-Gyeh.
I am Asher Graves, 22 years old. I work as an employee for an illustrious food service company with rave reviews, I prepare top-tier products for the masses at an industrial scale and conduct myself under great stress every day for the good of mankind and the betterment of humanity if I were to get into a grill off, I would not lose.
Arbys.
I work at Arby's.
I smell like roast beef and the tears of Dante after reaching the 9th circle of the underworld. For 3 years I have suffered in the service of man, and for what? 15% off slop sandwich.
Welcome to Arby's how wet do you want your beef today?
Gyeh.
I lied.
I no longer work at Arby's. I quit.
A man can only take so much meat and cheese until they are rotten to the core.
So what do I do now?
Nothing
I relish my uselessness. For now, I am but a worm of a man. Making my way through the dirt of life, wiggling and whirring. I love it.
The worm makes the man, man makes the worm -
as they say or something.
Or was it something else? Yeah, it was definitely worms.
For my likes? Not many. Fantasy stories, games, the occasional fruit cup for a baron like myself.
Well, that's my monologue for now-
The world around Asher spins, his black messy hair waves as he discards the last Arby's #1 Cashier hat in his collection of once many, he tears away the red work shirt leaving only a tank top and his skinny frame.
Die Arby's and Arby himself may he rest in peace in hell with all the other restauranter'
Asher snickers to himself as the clothing piles into a mound atop his apartment trashcan.
"I am victory."
He is now speaking to himself.
Asher sits down, his bottom sliding into a worn-down office chair, the yellow walls of the small apartment make his skin look even paler compared to the bright sun shining down on him.
He slides further, his legs sticking out, and his back now lays horizontally. The chair is no longer a chair. It is a bed. A technique pioneered during the Soviet Union's golden age, when peasants, unable to afford beds, were given stools to eat their stale paper on and collapse on when exhaustion took them.
His eyes slowly fade, weary and bloodshot from the fallout at the Michelin star establishment.
I should rest, I can get on indeed in the morning and look for something else.
Night comes swiftly, Asher snoozes lightly on his chair, and light amounts of spit dribble from his mouth.
Thunder booms around and rain pours down, in the not-so-far distance 2 figures stand.
Both are clad in purple and red robes respectively.
"Morgus, you have come to die!"
"Rowan your fate is sealed!"
The 2 figures stand off from each other and flash their staves to the stars, lightning gathers from the ongoing storm.
The red mage's staff trembles with brilliant radiance his whole body lights up in a brilliant aura of clashing lightning and flames, and the world around him seems to tremble and slow.
"Die MORGUS!" - He gasps and points his stave forward, "TESTICULAR TORSION!"
Morgus the purple mage grins slyly. "DEFLECTIOONNNN!"
The incoming purple bolt of magic flies off into the distance, and the wizards begin exchanging fireballs, magic bolts, and lightning strikes, both now thinking nothing of the first spell.
"YOWWWWWWWWW OH GOD OH GOD NO NO NO NO!"
Phantom screams echo throughout the lonely town.
The wizards stop and snap their heads towards the screams.
"Erm Rowan I think there was a miscalculation."
The purple mage twiddles his fingers as the whails of pain continue.
"Erm Morgus I think we fucked up."
Morgus lowers his staff.
"Uh yeah let's end this epic wizard duel for tonight."
Let's see how Ashers doing-
"MY FUCKING BALLS!"
"YAHHHHHHH!"
Only the screams of the eternally damned could rival those of Ashers, he clutches his little soldiers as he curls into a fetal position, raising his fist to the heavens and crying out.
Father why hast thou forsaken me!?
Asher's body grows weak and frail, his arms flutter to the ground weakly.
The pain is leaving.
The pain.
My eyes are so heavy, my balls, they are gone. Just as Nietzsche said - a man with no balls is a man without his balls and brother I'm hollow.
Asher grows cold, his body becoming numb and his bones feeling brittle by the moment, the world around him warbles and shifts, spinning and warping unnaturally. An abyss swallows the apartment like the teeth of a leviathan upon the coast of a Greek city-state. The walls and floors melted into a great nothingness.
A slow fog envelops the natural world, clouding all senses.
Depriv(c)ating and oppressive like your mother.
The fog.
Washes everything away.
Asher's eyes jolt open as he clutches his Peter Griffin and curls up, his back presses against something hard and cold, like your mother.
"Mr.Graves."
Uh is somebody there? Wait I should probably say it out loud.
"DON'T TOUCH MY BALLS!"
"Bro, ew."
A petite female voice once more sounds out, echoing, sounding almost- digital.
"Please, please don't touch my nuts!"
"Mr. Graves shape up and wake up."
I can't speak to girls what am I supposed to do there's a space demon or something but it's female I can't do anything.
"I'm not a space demon Mr. Graves."
"I didn't say anything."
- "Yeah you didn't" the voice curtly replies.
You're in my head?
"Yeah."
How what the fuck - and who shit my pants? Wait none of this makes sense.
The woman goes silent for a moment.
"You shit your pants. Anywho-"
DONT FUCKING DISREGARD THAT IT WASNT ME
"I am Cortana an AI made to help you and keep you safe."
Like from Halo - the mamter Cheef games?
"Yeah."
Let me get this straight. You're the "Sir Im finishing this big Mac" - Halo Cortana?
"Uh sure if that's important to you.
Are you still a fine shite?
"Disregarded and deleted from my storage."
Worth a shot. Wait how do I know you aren't some space goblin who has invaded my mind and is just playing games, how do I know you weren't the ones that eviscerated my flesh marbles.
Asher stands up and feels himself up, non-sexually, his nutters are intact and fine.
Woah my goblets are still there.
"Mr. Graves, I can't convince you of anything right now you just have to trust me, as our bond grows I may be able to appear to you and prove my identity but for now focus on survival, you are in a dangerous world."
Uh, Cortana my apartments not that dangerous-
Asher looks around for a moment.
Well fuck me with an Alaskan bull worm this isn't my apartment,
4 walls of pure titanium surround Asher, the slight cracks of rust run deep and to the ceiling, snowballing into a spiderweb of sub-cracks that are leaking water from every crevice like little drums in a band.
"Mr. Graves you are in a bad spot right now, I don't know if you are familiar with the world of Warframe but-"
No, please no. Just take my balls again. Take me back, please.
Asher falls to his knees and clasps his hands, praying and banging his head to the floor.
'Mr. Graves there is no going back, you were chosen for this!"
I want Arbys back.
"Mr. Graves open the door in front of you and be extremely quiet."
Asher gulps and stands up.
My clothes, what the hell.
Asher now realizes his old clothing is gone, he instead has a skintight black leotard made of some weird rubber, his arms and legs are the only padded sections the rest feel bare.
My shoings and gonggalons are just chilling out what the eightball!
"MR. GRAVES THE DOOR." Cortana screams, her digitized voice breaking up - "Ahem, open the door and lay low, just wait for more of my commands."
Okay, blue lady whatever you say.
Asher crouches and steps forward, the wet ground squelching underfoot, he feels the cold of a large metal latch, he grips it and lifts slowly, the metal creaks and retches with each inch.
"There is a grineer dregling guard, you are of equal strength to him, he is 12 paces from the door, use the darkness and eliminate him."
Eliminate? I cant kill something.
"You have to, to survive.
Jeez. I don't know about this.
Asher creeps out of the door, a dim light shines about 50 feet away, the only one around, the silhouette of a humanoid sitting shines on the black metal wall.
The humanoid hums and speaks to itself - "Hu dove meat, meat doven me kr gro gro gro"
It's speaking like backwards ass english what the hell fucking grineer mutant incest shithead bastard I'm going to kill you, puss-brained shitter.
"See you can kill him, keep that up, Mr. Graves."
Cortana, how the hell do I kill him he's built like the hillbilly from Deliverance.
"This is your part Mr. Graves, I cant control your physical body, only direct you."