July 20 2010

  Sunday 7.30 am

  Waking up inside a Terran Supply Depot wasn’t the weirdest thing I’d ever done for the past few days, but realising I hadn’t touched a phone in three days, and hadn't slept in a real bed for a while, that was the closest thing to torture: poor sleep quality and the lack of social interaction with actual people. I have no friends here, and no phone to access one.

  I am essentially living like a damn hermit, holing myself up like I was in a pcBang except the PC bangs in Asia were actually quite comfortable, you can order takeout and bubble tea and have cute, pretty girls send you your meals and in some places? You could even rent a place to game and sleep.

  My previous gaming studio was like that, late-night scrims, training with the region's top ranking pros, scrimming against regional Grandmasters in their homegrown, getting drunk silly, playing Shit the fridge, cho tai tee and digital mahjong if you shit the crapper.

  Those were the days-

  I sat up on my bedroll, the metal floor humming faintly beneath me as the depot’s ventilation system cycled another burst of recycled air because outside air smells like piss and rust, so the blowing cool air at my face, like air conditioning, is very comfortable. It's just..after three days holing up in here, my back started to ache. I miss sleeping in a proper bed.

  A few blinking status lights painted the dim interior, and I looked towards the panel screen for the SCV maintenance with resource allocation numbers and turret calibration data… Everything seems fine, all green. All good.

  Meanwhile, I might have grown a little agitated.

  Three days, man, three whole fucking days.

  No phone, no internet, just talking to SCV1 like I'm talking to some goddamn Wall. Look, SCV1 is great, the lovable mech idiot is twice or thrice my size and occasionally acts like a puppy, but it's not really a proper interaction, okay? The tyke aint a full A.I so the interaction is quite limited, besides..I dont wanna offend the cutie. I assure you it's not for scrolling memes, alright? It’s not really t-the memes. Don't believe me?

  Okay, maybe a little for memes, just a tiny tad bit, Cat pics. cute doggie pics, the internet got those in spades! But I also need it for information. For connection. For something familiar in a world where Kaiju and super superpowered guns and capes were real. How can a modern man such as I live with no social feed?

  No Parahuman Online?, no cat memes, not even any inclination to see some Cape short videos like the infamous Collateral Barbie texting while flying and crashing into a building near the docks or maybe check out some of Uber and Leet videos and see what the hype is all about, I'm a curious Asian, okay?

  . I really wanna see that. I do. Since coming here, I still haven't seen it. How can I have an authentic Brockton Bay experience if I haven't seen that? It was one of her first debut clips.

  And the internet clipped that shit, so I gotta!

  and thus it was immortalised.

  On the internet.

  For everyone to watch and see!

  Thus, the tale of Jason Lin continues as I…shall eventually get online, one way or another, plus, there's a reason I need to get outta here, get a proper social life. The food isnt cutting it. Other than living off bad-tasting MREs to keep me company. After yesterday's dinner, I dont think I ever wanna try that again. The taste of nostalgia cannot replace real food. I hunger for Lamian.. cheese tacos, and a good ol' sloppy joe like a true American! Anything is better than MRE.

  “Okay, this is no way to live my life”, I muttered, rubbing my face. That's what I did in essence, anyway. “Today's Agenda? Try to get myself a phone and food. Yep..definitely these two things.”

  The depot lights brightened automatically as I stood.

  Wow! Cool. I didn't know it could do that. I guess I didn't really notice it since I was dead tired from before I moved on. What time is it? I dont even have a friggin watch to check the time, if only I had a phone...

  Sigh…another reason I need a phone. Or a watch. I could probably just make a holopad, isnt it? But there wouldn't be a SIM card to access a valid ISP and telco in this world; besides, I know it won't be compatible. Runs on different computer languages, too.

  Another great reason to get a phone!

  I looked towards the side and forgot to tidy up the stuff. Just a working H1 Flash Welder and Laser Cutter. If I ever decided to start a company or go legit, some of the stuff that I can offer is this. Made a bunch of grav bombs too, a flash bomb and even one of those Micro spy the size of a dragonfly.

  Kept it in a tiny box in my pocket in case I ever need to use one. I even started building a proper Helmet reinforced with Neosteel, but couldn't get it to plate even more armour until I unlocked the tech to produce Tungsten Neosteel or one of those Mercenary plating using Carbon Mono Neosteel that Warpigs and Mira Marauders equip. I just dont have the fabricator until I build myself a proper engineering bay. In the meantime, it does have the essential just…not towards Op sec stuff. Eventually, I could even miniaturise this into a Visor, but for now, this is enough.

  The SCV’s mechanical voice chimed through the intercom. “Resource quota for day: 64% complete. Estimated completion: 1 day, 7 hours,” chirped SCV1 outside.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, throwing on my hoodie. “Add one more mission objective: find me a phone before I start talking to the walls. Ugh, never mind, scratch that..just build one more Supply Depot if you can find the time to scrounge up enough Butane gas”

  “Roger that, boss!” SCV 1 beeped and went to build another supply depot if it could find enough butane around. Once the Command Centre is complete, I'm just gonna bum rush building more SCV so I can build more stuff and hopefully clean up the whole trainyard before proceeding towards the Docks Graveyard. There's more metal there to farm after all.

  I stepped out into the morning light, the scent of salt and rust filling the air. The depot door sealed behind me with a hiss as I stepped out and was assaulted by the horrid smell of rust and sea.

  I dont think I'll ever get used to the smell. Might wanna consider moving elsewhere. Or wear a mask. I could probably fashion up a rebreather or something like one of those fancy ghost operatives wore.

  "Okay, Jason,” I said to myself, adjusting my hood. “Step one: find a tech shop. Step two: buy a phone." Easy enough to follow, right? Or maybe I should add Step three: pretend you’re not a possibly extradimensional former gamer building StarCraft infrastructure in a world with capes. hah! Like that will ever be me. Nope. What kind of Terran Commander looks like some kind of hobo?

  This kind!

  The SCV beeped from a distance, like it was mocking me.

  I grinned despite myself. “Yeah, yeah, keep collecting those metal, buddy.”

  I started down the cracked street, hands in pockets, hoodie drawn up against the coastal wind. My body still ached from hauling scrap and sleeping on metal. Thankfully, it's only temporary. If the Command Centre didn't have proper beds, I might need to acquire one for the sake of my back so he wouldn't develop long-term back pain.

  Now, I had to figure out where in Brockton Bay a guy could get a cheap burner phone without raising suspicion, especially when all I had were a few crumpled bills from a goddess with questionable betting practices. I sure as hell ain't getting a phone under a hundo.

  So buying a new one is out of the question for now.

  “ I need more bucks,” I muttered. “In a city like this, that’s not enough for a phone. Maybe for some food, and probably hygiene stuff, but not a phone”

  I could nab it from someone or nab money from thugs. The thought made me chuckle. So second-hand phone it is! The Asian market probably had some second-hand phones on sale or something. I could probably get a cheap breakfast and a used phone there.

  Still, as I made my way toward the city’s edge near the ABB territory at the Asian Market. I couldn’t help but notice something else coming my way: drones in the sky.

  Tiny, faint shapes against the morning clouds.

  I stopped for a moment, narrowing my eyes. They hovered a little too long, scanning areas near the docks, moving in slow, sweeping arcs heading towards the trainyard.

  “PRT maybe?” I said quietly. “Or ABB…?”

  Either way, I didn’t like it. Damn, butterflies are starting to flap their wings. I don’t do heroes. I don’t do villains. I don’t even on a good day do “vigilante.” Labels are for people who have free time. Me? I'm just trying to survive. Today’s survival priority: a phone. If the PRT or whatever find me out, I’ll handle it.

  I zipped my other hoodie up over the neosteel plating like it was concealing a bad fashion choice instead of actual armour. The Dreamhack hoodie is on a permanent hiatus until …geez. Until never, I guess. I'm gonna have to keep that hoodie on lock until my public persona and cape persona don't matter, I guess.

  The P220 sat snug in an inside pocket, muzzle down, safety on. It wasn’t the Gauss rifle, that shit is a tad bit overkill, P220 might just be an average gun, but it packed enough authority to scare a drunk without making me into a headline. That was the point.

  Keep everything low-tech and dont show off.

  Or at least try to, God knows I need to lay low. Goddess, I mean. I wasn't really religious. But a goddess? really? Where does that put Christianity or Judaism, or even Islam on the map? Buddha? Hinduism? Zeus and friggin Sun Wukong of all things dude...what the hell?

  Ya know what? I ain't even gonna question it.

  I'll just treat living here as my afterlife, and this is just the result of Karma.

  Getting yeeeyah yeeted in the world of Worm.

  For real, I ain't even mad.

  Just disappointed.

  Here I am, upside down, near the Northern area of the docks. ABB territory. Red light district at night. Asian marketplace in the morning.Looking for a second-hand phone like a broke ass asian in need of alms and handout. What would my parents in heaven think? Haha!

  Haiya..this failure.

  Well, I’m here now.

  ABB territory smelled like hot oil and sweet bread this early morning, maybe because there was a Korean Bakery playing K-pop music out here that kinda hit me on the left side with things, warm, sweet, and just cruel enough to remind me that Terran rations taste like sadness mixed with industrial lubricant.

  It's...surprisingly good. Sweet and hearty.

  Something good? Not this early in the morning. Not in my mornings! hell no...but this is odd, the “something good” turned out to be a single Korean kid behind the counter, rolling and kneading dough like his life depended on it

  Hmm... I stared at the Korean kid kneading dough, working hard and noticed a long line of Grandma's aunties and mostly teenage asian girls swooning over the poor kid as he looked dead ass tired trying to make bread while he noticed the boy's parents giggling inside, working on the oven.

  Poor kid. This early in the morning, and he's already selling bread. Literally, figuratively. tsk tsk...One girl actually audibly sighed when he punched the dough. What the hell is this? K-pop Bakery Idol?

  I walked the alleys slowly, head down, looking for the usual: three dudes loitering outside a closed bodega, a couple of kids swapping cigarettes, someone puking in a stairwell. Early morning scrounging is the best time to take things from people who aren’t paying attention.

  The boy caught me watching for a second, from one asian to another asian with a different mother, we just stared, just long enough to shoot me a look that said, “Help me.” Not verbally, just the silent telepathic plea of every overworked man everywhere. According to the bro code, I should help umu-

  I almost saluted him out of respect. I was gonna take the Q too, but damn, that's a long ass line. Those chocolate breads look scrumptious, though, and the sausage buns. Koreans do make the fanciest bread stuff around here, huh? Never seen the other bakers get this much attention.

  Or maybe it's just the Korean kid.

  Tall, got that K-pop Idol smile, and handsome to boot. Wonder where he gets that haircut? Oh, hey, if I squint my eye a little, he looks like Sun Jin Woo from Solo Levelling.

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  How about that? Eyyo king, did you get isekaied to worm too?

  Haha!

  I doubt that’s the case.

  Honestly, if the ABB didn’t recruit him, some K-drama producer would if those guys ever existed in Brockton Bay. I can imagine a series like this existing in Earth Aleph.. “The Bread and the Bakery,” maybe. Or “Hangul Flour My Heart: Knead Me Gently.” I’d watch it, if only to see if he ever escaped the female MC.hehehe-

  “Hang in there, kid,” I muttered under my breath as I walked off. “You’re feeding half the neighbourhood and breaking hearts at the same time. That’s hero work.” Yep..sucks to be you. Not me. I'm single as fuck, looking like a hobo, and let it stay that way.

  I snickered. I could practically feel the malice from the back of my head, probably from the bakery kid.

  Anyong hae…not much problem bro-mida~

  Behind me, another round of giggles erupted as the boy slammed the dough on the counter like he was trying to kill it. Poor guy. Yeah, truly, not my problem. You do you hubae. Aja aja hwaitin! Your older Sunbae got shit to do. Bro code is for those who can afford to do it, not me, nu-uh. I'm going bargain hunting for a phone.

  I could have - is that kid still staring at me from the bakery?

  Weird. I feel a sort of kinship with the dude.

  In any case!

  I found my mark at a busted-up corner deli further away from the Bakery, a cluster of guys slumped on crates, one passed out against a brick wall, another draped across a motorbike, laughing at something on a phone screen. Their jackets had the red-and-green trim ABB, unmistakable. Breakfast of champions, if your champions are fond of chaos and instant noodles and cheap convenience store bread. At least there's a tech store here, it's just…why does it gotta be swarmed by ABB?

  I sidled along the row of dumpsters like a ghost who still remembered how to be awkward in public. Heart rate up, but steady. Years of tournament pressure teach you two useful things: how to focus under stress, and how to judge timing. This was a timing problem.

  Before I could hit my target...

  Karma had other plans for me-

  I heard someone shout,

  “Ah! Is you again!”

  I turned half-ready to bolt bail bail!! They have a thinker and knew I was gonna rob 'em! I-I was just gonna get a SIM card! Honest! I wasn't gonna beat their ass and steal their phone!!

  Maybe…I mean, the thought did appear.

  Because let’s be honest, in Brockton Bay, getting recognised wasn’t exactly comforting, but instead, I saw a short, round-faced woman in an apron waving at me. Took me a second, but I recognised her. Lao Zhang’s Noodles.

  The place where I’d eaten that glorious bowl of lamian two days ago. First-ever noodle I ate since coming here.

  Oh, hey, it's just Aunt Laozhang.

  Beside her was her husband, tall, wiry, with that permanent expression of tired amusement that only comes from decades of marriage and noodle-slapping. Yeah..bro is whipped.

  Her husband was staring at me, judgingly, with his eyes squinting when they could squint no more "Lengzhai..what are you trying to do?"

  “Uh,” I said, awkwardly scratching the back of my head. “Morning?”

  “You! Come, come!” the lady said, grabbing my wrist before I could protest. “Last time you ate, you never came back! My husband thinks you ABB! I say, ‘No, no, ABB no use chopstick so well!’”

  The husband snorted. “I still say maybe ABB. He wears a hoodie. Always hoodie.” What's wrong with a hoodie?. At least I didn't wear the Dreamhack hoodie.

  “I wear hoodies because it’s cold,” I muttered, being pulled into the shop like a wayward son. Nah, man, I wore a hoodie because it's comfy, and it does make me look like a hobo. Hobos get ignored around here.

  Inside, the place smelled like heaven, just like last time.

  Ahh--Laozhang Noodles. My favourite place in the Bay.

  It's probably the Chinese in me that likes the smell of Szechuan chilli oil, garlic, and broth simmering in a massive pot. Reminds me of my parents' cooking, heck, it even reminds me of my wife's cooking from my last life. My stomach, traitorous and loud, growled immediately.

  The lady grinned like she’d just won a prize. “See? You hungry! I make breakfast! You eat!”

  Food is food, I ain't complaining.

  Before I could even think, I was shoved onto a stool, and a steaming bowl of noodles was placed in front of me. Thick, hand-pulled noodles with beef and scallions. Actual food. I almost teared up. Eating that MRE was so bad, I almost cried. Almost, it's just a tear.

  Oh dear lord, sweet mother of Jesus, this is the life. Just eat noodles and live my hermit life. Why does it gotta be this world though? Sigh..But halfway through my bowl, she leaned across the counter, eyes gleaming. “You strong, yes? Can knead dough?”

  “Uh… kinda?” Where is this going?

  She slapped my shoulder like she’d just knighted me. “Good! Lunch rush is coming. My nephew goes to school. You help make noodles! We pay you, okay?”

  I blinked. “Wait, uhh...what?”

  After eating, and a few moments later. I'm the newest hire for Lao Zhang Fresh Lamian Noodle. I looked down at the apron ‘Lao Zhang’s Fresh Noodles: Best in the Bay’ and sighed. So this was happening. Hmm..I didn't peg myself to find a part-time job, but here I am, I guess.

  Within minutes, I was behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, trying to copy Uncle Laozhang’s rhythm as he slapped and stretched dough like it owed him money. The wife shouted encouragement over the boiling pots, customers started lining up, and somehow I became part of the kitchen chaos. But there’s still time. It wasn't rush hour just yet, just breakfast. And this part of the town dont really take such a hearty and full breakfast in the morning.

  “You,” she said, pointing her ladle like a divine weapon. “Need a haircut.”

  Her husband chuckled. “Too long. Looks like a homeless lengchai.”

  “Hey,” I protested, wiping sweat from my neck. “This was a style back in my world...uh, I mean… back in college.”

  Madam Lao Zhang wasn’t buying it. “No excuse. You eat my noodle, you work in my shop, you must look handsome. No customer wants ugly noodle man.”

  Before I could argue, she grabbed my arm and said something rapid-fire in Cantonese to her husband, who just waved me off with a smirk and went back to him while her husband grumbled something and went back to cleaning.

  “Wait...where are we going?” I asked as she towed me down the street like a soldier being dragged to the front lines, not that it mattered, I was here to find a cheap breakfast and phone! Why am I being recruited and then getting told I need a haircut?!

  Which I really do, I know..but come on! Wait a sec...where the heck am I? I didn't know the North side was this windy and complicated. Lots of small little roads, kinda reminds me of Hong Kong.

  “Haircut!” she barked. “I know hor good place! Very cheap. Very fast. Very stylish!”

  That sounded good, I supposed. The stylish part was a little doubtful. How could a Noodle auntie know about fashion, yeah? right up until I saw the sign.

  “Golden Dragon Styles.” The neon lights flickered in the afternoon light of the asian market district. The inside smelled like hair dye, cigarette smoke, and cheap shampoo. Oh, I really meant it too.

  It's ABB crews everywhere. This place? ABB territory, no question. Three guys with tattoos curling up their necks were lounging by the counter, and one was literally sweeping up hair while wearing a red and green headband. For someone who's not into gangs, why are you bringing me here, Auntie?! These people are the ABB!!

  Madam Zhang walked right past them like she owned the place. “This ah? My nephew’s friend's salon! They give you a discount!”

  The ABB crew looked up. One of them blinked at me, then at her. “Auntie Zhang! You bring boyfriend ah?”

  She whacked him with her purse so fast I thought she was trained by the Terran Ghost program. “This boy helps at my noodle shop! You cut hair nicely, or I'll tell your mother you bullied Xiaoli yesterday! She still can't walk properly haiya!”

  All three of them straightened immediately. “Yes, Auntie!”

  I sat down in the cracked salon chair, trying not to make eye contact with the guy holding scissors shaped like they belonged in a slasher film.

  “So, uh… just a trim?” I said.

  The barber squinted. “Nah, bro. You've got that potential. We give you an Asian drama lead haircut. Besides.. I dont treat you right? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

  “Uhh..okay. But who’s Xiaoli?” crap..I shouldn’t have asked.

  The guy just glared at me straight, “Boy, shut yo ass up and just get the haircut”

  Before I could say anything, clippers buzzed to life. A little snip and buzz some ointment? I didn't know they used ointment for your scal,p and a few more close shaves with a really sharp knife near my neck. Ten minutes later, I was watching in the mirror as my reflection morphed from asian hobo to next generation debut Idol. Okay, gotta admit, ABB barber got chops.

  When it was done, the barber spun the chair dramatically. “Boom!. Handsome liao! now? You are now Auntie Zhang-approved! How is it, Auntie? Am I off the hook now?”

  She nodded in satisfaction. “Good! Now he looks like someone who can sell noodles and break hearts,” and slaps the guy's back till he coughs out.

  I touched my hair clean, styled, maybe a little too sharp. Hell naw? Who is this? This can't be me. I'm an asian fuckboi, Sun Jingwoo got nothing on this style, horeeey shit, I look damn fine. Wang Yibo? Jackson Wang? Xu Kai? move away, bruh. We got a new cape Idol in the scene. “...I actually like it.”

  The ABB barber grinned. “First cut’s free. Next one, you pay. Or you bring Auntie’s dumplings. That works too. You better make 'em like they do or else...”

  “Deal,” I said, shaking his hand before Madam Zhang could drag me out again. Somewhere someone muttered, “Dammn…where did auntie Zhang find this handsome hobo? From the streets?”

  As we walked back to the shop, she beamed. “See? I tell you. Handsome boy! Good noodle, good hair, maybe find a nice girl now!”

  Yeah, no shit. There are moments in life when you realise the universe has a sick, cosmic sense of humour. For me, that moment came at exactly 12:43 p.m., when I looked up from the noodle counter and saw the line.

  I was gonna get breakfast, get a phone. Go home. build a gun or two. I thought I had plans.

  Nah, Karma had other plans.

  A line of aunties, giggling office ladies, and way too many asian teenage girls. All waiting. All smiling. All holding their phones like paparazzi at a red carpet event or something, except it's a noodle shop. LaoZhang Noodle Shop. And at the centre of it all, right outside the shop window, stood him.

  The bread boy.

  That smug, flour-dusted hero from the bakery across the street. The same kid I’d pitied earlier today, while he was surrounded by adoring fangirls. He was leaning against a lamppost, sipping a soda, watching me now with the biggest grin I’d ever seen. That mother bread fucker...he better not-!

  “Payback’s a bitch, huh?” he mouthed through the window.

  I swear, I saw actual joy in his eyes. He’s enjoying this, isnt he? Hubae…pity your Sunbae pls. Dont be like this. Dont be me! Help?

  The dude just grinned and laughed while a girl nearby,his hanger-on, gave him a sip of bobatea while he watched on and enjoyed my suffering-

  Niama chao hai, whatever happened to the bro code?!

  “Jason! Faster! Pull noodle like you mean it! Customers watching!” right..I'm working right now.

  I was trying. What does an ex-coach and ex-pro gamer for an esports team know about making hand noodles? none. I do fried rice like any respectable asian could do, or instant noodles. Not actual Chinese cuisine with thousands of years of history behind it.

  My honour depends on it!

  My asian creed and honour!!

  I got a crash course in Noodle pulling, trying to emulate the Owner as I copied him; every slap of dough against the counter caused another round of giggles from the waiting crowd. One girl actually squealed. Another whispered to her friend, “He’s like omg! those Chinese dramas! Noodle Heart!”

  What the fuck is a Noodle Heart?!! Earth Bet got some weird ass show I'm not familiar with. I wanted to melt into the floor. Or get hit by an Endbringer. Either seemed preferable.

  The worst part? My newly fashionable Asian drama lead haircut, from the ABB salon, made things ten times worse. The sweat on my forehead glistened under the shop lights. Every noodle pull looked like some dramatic slow-motion cooking montage from a romance series.

  “Smile more!” Madam Zhang ordered. “You look like you're angry at noodle!”

  “I am angry at the noodle!” I hissed back. “And at life!”

  Her husband just laughed, slapping the counter as he stirred broth. “Now you understand the true noodle path! It's the bitterness of everyday life, toiling and toiling..good good, you're learning well Lengzhai”

  Outside, the bread boy actually pulled out his phone and recorded me. That motherfucker!!

  “Stop laughing!” I mouthed at him through the glass.

  He raised his bobatea in salute, then waved dramatically before disappearing into the crowd of giggling girls. One of them even pressed her breast on his arm deliberately, Dammm...did I just meet a real life Harem MC? kid got game and rizz..I'm not jelly, who's jelly? not me nu-uh.

  Ah fuck that guy! Shibal Saekiya! That Korean prick!

  My first job in this world, and I'm getting oogled in public like Noodle Idol is a reality TV show or something.

  Baker asshole, even if he got buns for days. It's no wonder I caught girls leering. Bro got the whole package, good boys go to heaven they say..bad boys bring heaven to you, and that one? That one got the whole Bakery package.

  Fuck that guy.

  By the time the lunch rush ended, my dignity had been diced finer than scallions. Madam Zhang patted my back, beaming. “Good! You make good noodles! Very popular now. People come for noodles and for you. Business double! Almost triple!”

  “Yay...houyeng ah..” I said weakly, slumping against the counter. “Glad I could sacrifice my soul for capitalism.”

  But… it wasn’t bad. There was laughter, yelling, and the rhythmic sound of noodles slapping against the counter like the percussion of some culinary battlefield. It's not something I'm used to, but it's not bad.

  “Good! You got a strong arm!” Old Zhang laughed. “You noodle man now! Now you know suffer! Good liao!”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, “just what every ex-pro gamer dreams of: a bronze-tier noodle maker.”

  Damn..this shit needs stamina, or another bowl of noodles. A single bowl of noodles in the morning isnt enough to power me through four hours of lunch rush. How do these old farts keep doing it day by day? My respect for them just went up a whole bar full. Restaurant stuff is hard work.

  I need to work out. My biceps are sore, and my back hurts even more. I need aspirin, Panadol…pain killer…help.

  **********************

  A/N

  Not really following the main story, just more padding and time away from all the waiting and stuff. I uhh…still working out the kinks of the main story, thinking on how to proceed and stuff.