The Origins of Grey Ryder

by K9Lupus

If I had to put words to the sensation, I wouldn’t know where to begin. There was just something so immensely soothing about learning I wasn’t the only version of myself in the universe. All of the moments where I missed the mark and fell short of reaching my goals and dreams suddenly weren’t deal-breakers; as a being of possibilities, I held the steadfast truth that options were always open to me if I so chose to pursue them. I came to understand that intention – powerful, directed will aimed at a single source long enough could create bends and ripples in the state of things.

After all, that's how I came to be.

The memories are pretty foggy, but as best I could put together, the Other Me ended up biting off way more than they could chew. They wanted power, control, hope – anything to believe in, and they were willing to do whatever they deemed necessary to get it. And the sad thing is they got all of that and more, but not in the way they expected to. You don't pass through a self-manifested rapture without becoming damaged along the way. They even took on the moniker for themself. Quite fitting if you ask me considering how uncontained, chaotic, and wild their powers had become.

After that, Rapture fell to a place called ‘Schism Earth’, an alternate version of a familiar realm. Their own powers of travel helped mask their arrival from any official means of detection, and they lurked within the hidden recesses of the world, biding their time as they aligned themselves to a new, sinister purpose.

When they finally gained the insight they had been in search of after all that time, there was a welling of resentment – more like a flood if I had to be honest. Its arrow aimed itself square at the heart of who the Other Me was. They were desperate. Abolishing any and all remnants of who they were before their dreadful transcendence was the only way forward they could see, and that willful act of self-rebellion became the portal through for me.

Once Other Me was past that point however, there was no going back to their old self. Not that I was wanted in any case. I was discarded—forgotten top to bottom without even a pity crumb of caring at my feet. Now tossed to the curb and abandoned by my creator, the sole option to reclaim any sense of sanity to my forced existence was to forge a start to my own separate story. My mind got to wondering where I might go and who, if anyone, I could trust. I thought long and hard about the potential of another me from a different fold of existence noticing an intruder stomping around on their turf. What would happen then? The mere consideration of my own existence being booted out by a force linked to myself, yet still distinctly outside my control was terrifying.

I decided the best course of action would be to live a life off the radar. If any Other Mes were on patrol or getting themselves cozy in the circumstances they’d built for themselves, I didn't want to give them a good enough reason to flick me away and step in. Time spent on Schism Earth offered much needed breathing room to gain my bearings. As a drifter with kind eyes and a louder stomach, I wandered all over the world, keeping a low profile as I sought out someplace I could potentially belong. Instead, I found northern England.

*******

Teesside was the perfect place for a roving traveler to call home. Its numerous oil refineries boasted sweeping, dark plumes flourishing into the sky in daily proclamation of the town’s rich, mercantile history. Steeped in the manufacturing of steel, coal, and other industrial and chemical goods, Teesside held glimmers of prosperity for those with the financial means or necessary grit to claim it. Somehow Teesside was simultaneously the center of the universe, while being anything but. It occupied the uncanny intersection between lively innovation and absolute gits caught up in a cultural arms race.

However, it wasn’t the old cobblestone pathways, nor the cheeky banter of passersby that sold me on the idea of having a home here. It only took one look at the River Tees flowing through worn bridge underpasses as it continued on its way to merge into the whole of the broad North Sea beyond to believe the water was capable of carrying any of my previously held worries downstream with it.

I reasoned a halfway decent life could be had here if I gave it the chance, and so, after some sleuthing, I was able to track down the landlord for my first apartment. It was a pretty good gig if I had to say so myself. Bloke only asked for the deposit to be paid. He even offset the first month’s rent if I could attend to the daily chores of the building while he tracked down a new caretaker who up and left suddenly on him complaining about ‘fixed wages’ or some other babble.

I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and soon after settling in, I was able to snatch a job for myself at an advertising agency. Menial office work didn’t bother me too much, and for a time it seemed everything was going my way. In retrospect, I should have known better. Life has an uncanny ability to correct itself back to the mean when you least expect it.

*******

It happened on a morning much like any other since I had moved to Teesside. After waking from a decent-enough night’s rest, I gave a groggy shuffle over to the closet to get dressed. I chuffed myself up for the day with a high-five against the mirror before making my way to work—same as usual. Same as always. However, as soon as I arrived, the pit of my gut lurched a sour heave. Something was off. My department supervisor, typically a micromanaging bugger never to miss an opportunity to hover over the rest of us, was absent. Some of the other workers there eyed me with forlorn, avoidant expressions. No one was talking, even to one another. I sat down at my desk, figuring to at least get started on what was needed today and not worry about anyone else.

Then a quaint face dolled up with an excessive amount of makeup appeared at the far end of the hall. She waved a clipboard above her, loaded to the margins with messy notes and smears of crossed-out red streaks.

“Hey, Zeydaan. Listen, can I grab you for a quick minute? Mr. Concord would like to have a word with you.”

I followed Patty, Mr. Concord’s assistant, over to his office where she promptly left me at the door. She scurried off with all the urgency needed to avoid catching any part of the blast radius of whatever was about to transpire. Not a good sign.

I opened the door. Mr. Concord was there, broad-shouldered and benign.

“Uh, hello?” I began. “Patty said you wanted me to come in and talk about an important matter. If it's in regards to the rescheduled meeting for the 9th, I can assure you it’s being taken care –”

“Sit down Zeydaan,” Mr. Concord said. His tone was firm and unquestionable in stark contrast to the smile plastered over his face.

“Yes, sir.” I sat promptly, hands resting within my lap. “What’s this about?”

Silence. Then a slide of paper across the desk in my direction.

“You've been working here at the agency for a good while now. And having you in the department has been a joy. Truly. Despite what you may believe based on our past meetings, I don’t have it out for you. Between you and me, you’re one of the few workers I can count on to not muck about when push comes to shove. That’s why I ask more of you than most.”

Outside of trying to parse Mr. Concord’s twisted logic used to justify burdening me with after-hour tasks, I noticed the uneasy feeling hadn’t left my gut. “Sir, I’m confused. Is this some sort of apology?”

“No, this isn’t. I wish it was that simple. I’ll get straight to the point. As you know, in any line of work, change is inevitable. I tried to speak to the committee on your retention, but It's with my deepest regrets that I inform you today that as a function of the restructuring of our company, your current position is being dissolved effective today. You'll be given a transition portfolio instructing you on best practices– ”

The rest of Mr. Concord's words faded into static oblivion. My shoulders slumped low in the chair, knees jostling as they threatened to tuck up protectively against my chest. It was all happening again. Despite my best efforts and willingness to believe the cards had been lining up for me this time, I now knew my good fortunes had only been meant to add to the spectacle of them finally tumbling over.

At some point, I fumbled my way back to my office. I could only gather up and sort the contents of my space with a devoid, mechanical caring. Well-meaning condolences from co-workers were brushed off. Even the sound of the Bing a Mix delivery person bringing around lunch orders for the office group–mine included–even when I had declined, couldn't bring me out of the stark reality that I was now starting again at zero. But this time I was now saddled with a lease that wouldn't be up for four months.

By mid-afternoon, the task was done. I bade farewell to the building and the people inside that had been both boon and bane to my days. With the rest of the afternoon now surprisingly open, I decided to simply kick it and take a ride on the coach. Touring the sites was never really up my alley, but getting to people-watch got me imagining what their lives might have been like to lead them to that exact moment. Somewhere along the way of me pulling my thoughts outside my own head, the reality I faced didn’t seem quite so bad.

The tour bus momentarily stopped its parade of Teesside to give its occupants an opportunity to take care of their business, conveniently dropping the lot of us off at the entranceway to the premiere company gift shop. After stepping off the bus, I flitted about looking at the various odds and ends, deciding nothing was worth my time, nor my now limited funds for that matter, to bring back home. The busman rallied us back to the coach with a bellow of a call. Leaving the shop, I noticed a group of people–more like a huddled mess–out of the corner of my eye, scoffing at the pomp and circumstance tourists from across the street.

“Ey- wolfie- Grey wolfie, you-”

On a typical day, I would have ignored them entirely without a second thought. But today was doubling down on being anything but ordinary. With a frantic wave of their hand, one of the vagrants flashed a shiny object above their head. My hands immediately clapped against my sides. Empty.

“My wallet!”

A low, dry cackle was heard, and the offender took off, their friends cheering as they vanished down the street into a nearby alley.

“Oh no you don’t! Not today!”

I gave chase, weaving my way across active lanes of traffic. Blaring horns did nothing to halt my progress. I made it to the other side of the road, intact and furious. Boos and scowls from the rest of the thief’s companions could be heard as I flung myself into the alley after the culprit.

I was prepared for the thief to be long gone by the time I had arrived. Instead, they looked down at me while hanging off the edge of a nearby fire escape with a smug, victorious smile.

"Ey up! Eyes up here, grey. Hope you canna catch!" The thief tossed the wallet like a frisbee, hurling it toward me. I caught it, noticing the contents actually appeared heavier than before.

“Be sure to check inside when you get the chance, grey-o. There’s some special kalays I’ve included there for ya.’” The thief hoisted themselves up and climbed the rest of the way along the fire escape, vanishing through a cracked-open window.

“Wait!”

I opened my wallet, seeing a few, curious white sticks with streaming blue markings poking out the top. The strange smell of manufactured compounds wove their way through the wrapped cigarettes. Something was off about these. No time to think more about it though. I turned around and made my way back through the alley the way I had entered, but saw everyone had vanished. Probably for the best. They had their fun, and now I could get my rest.

*******

Back home, I decided to reach out to help. Despite my residence here in Teesside for some time, there were exceedingly few people I could even think about trusting to contact. The idea had struck me as I had walked in the door, seeing the edge of my reflection following me in from the distant shelf. I had already figured out how to make it work living here.

I wrote a letter to the Other Me that existed in this universe requesting continued contact and assistance, and trusted that my intentions would manifest to reach them through our shared connection and abilities. Finishing the letter, I stashed it with my other outgoing mail for the next day and sat with the encroaching loneliness of my thoughts.

What if me reaching out to them didn’t work? What if everything goes to the dumpster and I can’t get back on my feet? Where do I go if I can’t make it work here? The swirling, agonizing thoughts overwhelmed me. And as if by instinct, my hand reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet. I tugged loose one of the cigarettes and grabbed the candle lighter from my drawer. Just one. It was an inelegant contraption, but it’d get the job done.

I took a long, slow drag of the heated relief. It’s taste in my mouth was much lighter and sweet than I would have ever thought from the smell of the packaging. Near instantly, my nerves softened and the previous pangs of worry became shallow pinpricks. I slumped back in my chair and savored the momentary reprieve. By the end of the night, all the cigarettes in my wallet were emptied and burned into shriveled butts, my lungs filled with their sweet, calming bliss lasting long through the night.

*******

The next day, I returned to the same bus stop where I had last seen the vagrants, and sure enough, they were all there enjoying a sport of mock baseball with a trash can lid as a catcher’s mitt and a discarded piece of fencing as the bat. The thief from the other day spotted me first.

“Oi! It’s the Grey pup! Fancy seein’ you here chap. Back for more?”

“Where'd you get this stuff?” I said, holding up one of the white and blue cigarette butts from the other evening.

“Oh, that old mess? It was just lying around. Ain't nothin' special. Now if you want to indulge in some really special glints, you can get yourself sorted over at Ol' Barley's. He'll set you up real good if you're looking to really enjoy this place more than some cruddy tour bus.”

“And you're sure this stuff is...kosher?”

The whole group laughed hard.

“Mate, it'll do exactly what you need it to. You're not feeling chicken to feel better like you want to on your own are you? Need mum's permission first?” one of the others said, producing a full pack of the odd cigarettes from their pocket.

Without giving it a thought, I snatched the box and the lighter in their hand. They stood shocked as a frenzied drag of my claw opened the box. A quick light became an even quicker drag on the freshly lit cigarette, followed by a second, choked-down puff. Immediately, the building anxieties and tension fell to the backburner. The world was good again. Then I remembered what I had just done and prepared myself for the pummeling of a lifetime. But no fist flew in my direction. Instead, I received a clap on the shoulder.

“I think you earned a peek at our stomping grounds, given you didn’t chicken out of the present I sent your way. Let’s up and move everybody!” the thief said. The lot of them cheered and made their way down the street with no single person leading the others, all held with equal regard.

*******

The gang's hideout lay nestled between two dilapidated construction sites. Mountains of concrete, steel, and wood rotted out through exposure littered the area. When the hopes of affordable housing was being put into the spot during construction, higher-ups determined it would be more lucrative to abandon the higher than expected estimates and leave the space vacant and liminal. The Gang had assembled a cozy space complete with some springy beds, shelving, and even a working double-pair of vending machines all hidden away from the view of the public eye. Most options on the vending machines were empty, but the “surprise” you could get if you tried your luck was one of The Gang’s favorite pastimes.

Mags gave me the rundown on the ins and outs of The Gang. Rejects, discards, ambitious dreamers – their labels were many. These human smoggie mates were a lively and eclectic bunch. They held common ground between one another through the shared dream of a life yet to be lived, and the mourning of a life believed lost and untenable through the constriction of society and had been together for the better part of a few years now.

Pretty much every way you can imagine life tossing you to the curb was here on display in their close-knit group. There were four in total outside myself now: Clive, Mike, Mags and Bert. All were an absolute riot, and while they wouldn’t have been my first pick for friends, they were sorely needed company as the challenges of life kept piling on up. I even ended up taking a shine to that ‘Grey’ nickname that they seemed eager to thrust my way.

*******

Waking up the next day, my mind was filled to the brim with the curious spectacle of The Gang and their existence on the outskirts. I had to stay focused though and try to get myself back on track. I smoked a twofer of cigs with breakfast; I was going to need all the calm available to me to help settle out my nerves.

I scoured through my belongings until I had found it; the metal razor given with undoubtedly good intentions at the seasonal gift exchange was finally going to get some use. I raked it down along the back of my skull, producing a severe buzzcut against the back of my scalp, being sure to leave a little on the sides around my ears. Having the mass of my old wolf fur trimmed down this way into an impromptu Chelsea cut I thought might help me look more appealing to the general public. I set out for the day with my new appearance, eager to make some strides in the job-hunting department.

*******

No luck. I tossed my folder containing bundled job applications across the floor and went for the fridge that was starting to look pretty lean for options. Days of accumulated rejection drained me like nothing else. I barely had the energy these days to slurp up some cup noodles between a quick puff before revving myself up to try again. The three-day notice on my apartment I had received didn’t help any. Made for a fantastic door-stop though.

*******

As the days went by, it became harder for me to refute what was taking place as a result of my extended indulgences courtesy of The Gang. My fur came away in clumps within my hands, molting away like a sad, misshapen bird in exchange for pasty white, bare skin beneath. The aspects which had lent me a wild character were only pulling back more as I dived deeper and deeper into the underbelly of my burgeoning, fully human existence. Even my tail had withered away into a barely functional stump.

What remained of my old fur, now far less coarse and wispy, had developed the nagging habit of filling in quickly, necessitating frequent trims again and again. I finally grew fed up with the whole arrangement and decided to take things the extra mile. If the fur, hair–whatever–was going to keep coming back I might as well celebrate the unique, new style coming to be. I scrounged together a vat of deep blue hair dye and smeared a clump onto my hands, kneading the pungent mixture across the top of my scalp. When I was done, the heavy dye added to my developing look of fierce rebellion.

I chuckled, flashing shortened, blunt fangs in the mirror in admiration once the dye had finished drying. Even with my muzzle having shortened to looking like some terrible Halloween cosplay, and my broad eyes having slumped down to the sides of my head, I had to admit…the look wasn’t half-bad! But it was still missing something.

In the back of my closet, I found a dusty and forgotten black beanie I had gotten during my travels. Sitting atop my head, it was a most fitting urban crown. Despite everything that had been going on, I still had good feelings about where the future was going. All of this unfolding was by my hand, and by my hand alone I would reap its full benefits.

*******

The Gang was huddled together outside the marketplace, tossing a pack of smokes back and forth. Between the casual, nonchalant gesture, they deliberated with practiced intensity. Intermittent bursts of laughter and affirming nods peppered the space between their hushed voices. Eventually, they came to an understood conclusion. One by one, they disappeared into the market, slightly offset from their predecessor and in different directions. Mags spotted me, and beckoned me over with a wave of her hand.

“What was all that about? Yous figuring out how to split the bill or something?” I asked.

“Sommat like you say,” Mags said before drawing me in close to her jacket.

“What do you say to you joining in on our little affair over here, eh, Grey? Then we treat you to sommat nice from what we bring out afterward? You do your part and you're rewarded. That is our way after all.”

“I mean, that sounds like a good time. So what exactly do you want me to do? Is there a shopping list?”

Mags’s eyes widened in disbelief. “List? only list is whatevs. And yeah, yeah. Good time. Now button it and stick close. And whatever you do, don't look at the others passin’ through.”

Mags and I entered the market. The assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables, consumer goods, and stacks of flashing electronics near the back captivated me. However, I had little time for sightseeing. Mags led me around to one of the side aisles, and from time to time I caught a glimpse of a dark jacket from one of the other Gang members moving weightlessly like living shadows toward their destinations. I remembered Mags’s warning and resisted giving them a wave each time I saw them, instead settling for a mild shrug of my shoulders of acknowledgement.

Bert looked to be talking to the store’s floor management staff members. As Mike passed by, Clive gave a discreet flick of his hand, thumb sticking up at his side. Mags with me doubled her pace, and the two of us tucked into the adjacent aisle. Then, in a motion that looked like she was simply reaching up to check the price on one of the handheld electronics on the shelves, Mag's hand folded away the item into the interior of their jacket, followed by another shortly after.

The third however, slid across the empty space created by the first two on its shelf toward me. I froze. Mags tilted their head, eyeing my own jacket lapel.

“Tuck it in. No big movements or nothing. Just to get it where it needs to go. We leave back the other way while Bert keeps 'em busy. God knows he runs his mouth for an hour or more if we need him to.”

“Wait, you're just taking these things?”

“Shh, shh, shh...What are you doing? No sense talking like that while we're here at the spot. I thought you was cool. Life's been hard on each of us right? Well this is how we help get that balance a little bit closer to being set right. It ain't gonna’ hurt the bottom line of these huge, money-grubbin' corpos none, and no one gets hurt for it either. Easy peasy. Now, tuck this up, and keep your head up, but don't smile too much. You gotta have that frustrated look like you were trying to find something and they ended up short here—again. Even better if you got a phone with you. You got a phone right?”

The barrage of information and its implications hit me at once. The Gang had taken me in as I was during my troubles, but this...this was pushing things a bit too far.

“Hey, listen, I just don't know. I've never done anything like this before. What if we–”

“We don't wonder about ifs in this little arrangement. We only figure out the hows. Now, I get it. You're a shy one. Need some warming up. Let me help.”

Mags grabbed the electronic personal assistant off of the shelf, practically tossed it against my chest, and turned to head back toward the entrance of the store. There was no further discussion to be had on this matter.

“Come on,” Mags muttered with frustrated rumblings beneath her breath. Sweat greased my palms. Fingers trembled. A knotted flutter got tangled up in my sides. Then my ears perked up as the loud crash of the small box in my hands hit the floor. In the other aisle, I could hear Bert desperately trying to keep the floor attendant's attention from what we were doing, and now Mags had a concerned, and even more so, disappointed expression on their face.

“Let's bounce,” was all she said. The Gang left the establishment as quickly and organized as they had entered, leaving the management staff none the wiser of what had transpired. The trailing ends of the last two members’ coats disappeared from view with hurried steps and a half-concealed hand flipping the staff off as we all made our getaway.

*******

The Gang met up later to collect and display their haul. Stacks of various knick-knacks, a few choice cuts of meat, and even a brand-new air fryer still in the box draped to one side of the pile settled in the center of the apartment table gave the whole arrangement the sense of some urban, unshapely throne. I thought they’d be gutted about what they had done. But on all of their faces, they brimmed with joyous pride. They roused each other with jabs and jives – congratulations for a job well done. Only I sat in the corner pondering over the day's affairs. Something clicked.

The Gang didn't let the worries and rules of others get them down, and here they were all the better off for it. They had made today a better day precisely because they had accomplished what they had set out to do without fear of failure, the utmost confidence in their abilities guiding them forward. Leaving the hideout later that evening, I thought maybe me being flexible with my own set of rules wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

*******

The next day I traveled to the far end of town, as far away from Mags and the others as I could get. Walking into the Lortnum & Jason department store, its bastion of old-timey, traditional British charm an alluring prospect even The Gang wouldn’t get themselves caught up with. A familiar guilt paralyzed me at the door. I was sure that someone was going to read my tentative intentions and intervene right away. A part of me wanted them to. At least then all the tension and anxiety would be over. But no one came.

The uniformed staff members were all content to carry out their duties, and outside of a cheerful “Hello, thank you for coming in today to shop with us miss” by an attendant, no one even so much as glanced in my direction.

I made my way past the elegant tea room stashed off to one side of the building, following the scent of freshly baked scones, scotch eggs, and other delectables wafting in from the food hall further beyond. It was foodie heaven; my stomach eagerly wished to attend to its ignored primal needs. I slapped my face back to my senses. There was still a job to be done.

I went ahead and slipped into one of the more secluded displays wreathed with all manner of refined teas, silverware, and other fineries. I selected my quarry: a quaint, rounded container of Rebel’s Ruse White Leaf Tea poking out from the others on the shelf. I allowed my hand to do the leading that my heart could not. Perhaps if I could get a better understanding of what it was The Gang felt when they did such acts, then I could let go of whatever held me back from being one of them.

In a flash, it was over. The container was nestled tight beneath my coat with none the wiser of the deed I had now committed and had condemned just the other day. I checked the cameras again, imagining Mags’s admonishment of such a rookie mistake. The nearest floor attendant was occupied taking care of a mum with a grumbly child two aisles over. I had to be sure what had just happened wasn’t a fluke. I reached out again, this time nabbing a small, sterling silver set of silverware. Just because it caught my fancy and I wanted it.

It folded in neatly above the jar of tea. I remember shaking and trembling like a leaf the better part of the way back out the store, but no one came to fault me for my supposed wrong. Then, once I was home and I realized I was safe, that was when I finally felt it. No matter how downcast or spat on others would regard me, as long as I had the means to keep reaching out for what I wanted, I would find this feeling of the world lining up a bit closer in my favor, by my will again. And it was oh, so good to make some kind of win for myself.

I ended up fixing myself up a cuppa with what I had nabbed, stirring the little bag with one of those fancy spoons. It gave me a right laugh. Enough fuel for the night to give tomorrow another try. It’s the little things that keep us going when you notice the shadows are bigger than the flames that cast them after all.

*******

The days blended together as life became a moment-to-moment struggle. Restaurant bathrooms (the ones who would allow me in) were an immense reprieve. I got really good at taking the most discreet baths to keep up my cleanliness as much as possible. Hand towels dried my body and kept the smell from getting too bad with none the wiser. Afterward, I’d make up some excuse of how there had been an urgent change in plans and needed to attend to matters elsewhere.

My green irises and long eyelashes which would have otherwise been viewed by some as alluring, now looked strangely juxtaposed over my other exhausted features. My eyes were unfocused with baggy valleys beneath them. My manner of dress grew rough, my cheap, slightly dirty attire showing increasing wear. I tried holding up in one of the shelters in town, but it wasn’t my style. Too crowded, too sad. At least here on the streets, I could rest without some ‘sleepy’ chap snoring while trying to have a go at a reach around at my bum.

*******

It's amazing how fast time goes by when you stop caring so much about it. My schedule was set by my own making; no more would I be subject to early-morning alarms and barrages of five-minute snoozes. Instead, I rolled from bed with blatant disregard for the floor below, assured that some amount of the left-out clothing would cushion my inevitable fall from sleepy grace. Waking, I hobbled together an ensemble from my heap: a cropped yellow sports vest lay underneath a grey hoodie with scuffed blue jeans and an old pair of black boots and fingerless gloves given to me by the attendant from my brief stint at the shelter.

But today was feeling like a good day, and so I decided to doll myself up with something a little extra, taking the time to paint my nails with some leftover tacky red nail polish watered down a bit to get just enough after shaking the bottle.

The streets were filled with the sound of my people; opportunity abounded on every corner. The old me wouldn't have noticed the world was so rife and able to be enjoyed to its fullest with so few materials. To make your way forward wasn't about the grind, or the money; it was the sharpness of your wit applied exactly when it was needed most.

I dropped by HQ and was surprised to find the building nearly empty. The barren space looked derelict and abandoned as if the whole group had been flushed out in a hurry. I knew the recent chase after getting caught up with those plumb dumb moochers trying to creep in on our turf had gotten pretty sour, but the thought of The Gang having something that even spooked them sent shivers down my spine.
“Heck’s going on here now?”

Clive appeared from around the corner of the double vending machines, his stout face etched with worry.

“Didn’t you hear Grey? The wrong kind of folks have been getting too chummy here lately so we hadda scram. Real shame too. I was gettin a liking to the place.”

“So wha’bout the Gang? What happens now?”

“Beats me. Figure it out like we always have. First thing's first though. Before we find a new place, we gonna to have to lay low for a while. S’pose you have any ideas for a new HQ?”

I mulled over Clive’s request. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men on the street below having a right go at it. The veins in their necks bulged as they yelled at each other, and I chuckled to myself thinking they must have been arguing about fixed wages at their job. Then it hit me. I grabbed Clive’s arm, urging them to follow.

“Actually...I might know the perfect spot.”

*******

“Slant it slow and gentle like you’re trying to flick a fly at Mags fer stealing ya pizza the second time,” Bert said.

“What the queen-fearing blazes are you yammering on about?” Mags answered, smacking Bert on the back of the head.

Their sneering as Clive fumbled with the lock was starting to grind on my nerves. “Ehhhhh....piece of junk,” he said, tossing down his lockpicking kit.

“Oh, just let me do it. It'll pop out if you give it one of these.” I turned and bumped his rump up against the side of the door, wiggling the mechanism just so until the knob rotated the last few centimeters to open.”

A few whistles sounded out. “A right shame. If only I had a few quid to spare, maybe we would have gotten a whole show before the festivities began?” Mags said with a sneer.

“Go shove a sock in it! Door’s open now, ain’t it?” I replied.

“Now it's pretty vacant since my stuff's mostly at the other place. Spot hasn’t been filled since I cut out..” I continued, the thought trailing off as everyone else was keen to start their agenda for the night.

No words could stop The Gang whose uncanny instinct toward being able to settle in pretty much anywhere in the city was on overdrive now as they scouted every nook and cranny.

“Let me call up a few blokes. They'll hook this place up good,” Bert said, meandering his way to the phone teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

Before I knew it, I soon found myself in the midst of a rocking pop-up party. The noise and company of several dozen attendants all crammed into the small apartment drowned out any reservations if the decision to come here had been a good one. One pair of folks I didn’t even recognize were making out in the hallway, bracing themselves on opposite walls, leaning forward into one another as if in some kind of awkward yoga pose.

“This is gettin’ a bit much..”

“Don't tell me you're running chicken right now after we went through all this effort setting up a good time for you? Come on, it's a time to celebrate. We got our noses out from under the pigs. Things are good now,” Mike said, jostling my shoulder and handing me his half-finished drink.

I took a swig of the beverage passed to me, a warm flush plunging into my stomach that slowly crept into my cheeks. A second drink found me caring even less about the rip-roarin’ antics of The Gang filling the walls with added ‘personality’ courtesy of some brought-over cans of spray paint and a few extra ‘accents’ from accidental bumps and dents embedding themselves in the hallway trim.

Eventually, the group’s voices had grown raw from their crescendo of self-initiated displays of chaos. The night reclaimed a tentative calm. My new friends laid passed out across furniture and against an impromptu bed crafted from the sloped-up broken frame of the table carefully balanced against the kitchen entrance. I couldn’t remember any other time in my life when so many other people had willingly chosen to be in my company. I smiled, then felt a heave as the takeout Chinese food ordered hit its final destination alongside the questionable jars of unlabeled sauces relegated to the back of the fridge. Bathroom. Now.

Despite the bubbling queasiness trembling up into my shoulders, there was a strange sense of peace that descended over me there in the late of the night: safe, secure, and warm with the flitterings of new memories drowning out the aches of the past.

There's really something to living a life like this isn’t there? I mused, picking up my pace to the toilet before any other unintended accessories decorated the floor for the night.

******

The next morning, I waded my way through a horde of slovenly and groaning bodies. The apartment had the simmering flame of a recently abandoned, debaucherous warzone. There was one small relief however. For as rowdy as the bunch had all been, they understood the merits of keeping themselves discreet here as a potential long-term solution, and so offered to help ‘tidy up the joint’.

Organizing them was worse than herding cats, and our efforts amounted to little more than stain removal and stashing the worst offenses back in the closet to be dealt with later, but eventually we got the state of the apartment back to looking halfway decent – at least from any passerby outside peeking through the window.

*******

Later that afternoon, I traveled across town that afternoon to the benefits office. Hiding out at the old apartment would only work for so long. I needed more time. My head still reeled with a pounding headache from the party the night before, but I managed alright. Trying to make the impossible decisions between housing and food the past week still weighed heavily on my thoughts, and at least this way I could give some voice to my aching stomach to make the most informed decision possible for my future. At least, that's what I hoped would happen.

I was greeted with all the flair afforded to individuals in such positions as I, namely a lack thereof, and, upon arriving at the benefits office, I was ushered into a well-furnished waiting room. My drab condition drew curious stares and judging glances from other folk there: workers and those filing alike. I could hear them. They thought they were being quiet, but I could still hear all of them whispering their little words about little ol’ me.

They pondered why a larger portion of the city budget couldn't be redirected to help those struggling instead of being forked over for new suede upholstery in buildings like this, or contemplated how much concentrated detergent would be needed to loosen out some of the smell of me just trying to survive. An attendant snapped me from my thought-filled tirade, beckoning me to join her so she may gather some preliminary information.

I answered her questions curtly without a wasted word. Talking too much gave the chance to slip where you didn’t even know a hole existed. After coming so far, I wouldn’t dare give an opportunity to be denied from some simple misspeak or a hesitantly given number. I was ready.

The attendant reviewed the forms and asked-for documentation I had submitted. A practiced, sad expression etched itself onto her brow, then blank, feigned regard as she handed the application back.
“I'm sorry, but based on the information you provided you don't qualify for benefits at this time, I recommend you–”

“What in the bloody blue blazes do you mean I don't qualify?! I answered bloody everything, even answered the extra stuff in the boxes too.” My finger jabbed hard against the desk like a frenzied woodpecker. “Tell me what it is about me that you're seeing doesn't qualify?”

“Well, firstly, I'll have you know it's nothing about you personally. When we take a look at your annual earnings that you shared–”

“Annual?! You cheeky git. I'm applying for benefits ‘cus I need help NOW. Yes, had a job earlier in the year. That was before crap hit the fan and I was out here fending for myself. Now I'll have you know I don't need you making things harder for me, Ms. WhateverTheyCallYou, else it's going to end up being harder for you too.”

The rage I felt was all-consuming. A break–just this once–was all I had hoped for. I would’ve been satisfied with a new starting line, but I couldn’t even get that far.

“That's going to be the end of the discussion on this matter and frankly anything else your pothole of a mouth is going to have spewing from it. Good day miss! Security! Please escort the lady from the premises. The determination stands. I encourage you to seek assistance elsewhere.” A most satisfied grin crept onto her lips as I was pulled away by the burly might of two guards.

I was sure to leave a firm imprint of my boot on the thick glass door before signing my impromptu artistic masterpiece in spit and scowls. Deciding that the first boot imprint needed a friend, I kicked the door a second time, now plunging forward into a raining splash of shattered glass around the entranceway as I lost my balance and tumbled forward into the building once more. The same attendant who had just refuted my claim appeared. She clung tightly to her purse, frozen and aghast at the whole spectacle before her. I seized the opportunity to get back up in her face.

“See. I don't do so good hearing no, so now you get to hear ALLLL about me right now.” I barely registered the return of the security guards, only remembering being hoisted off the ground as I left the establishment with a flurry of colorful language following me out to the encroaching glow of blue lights growing ever-nearer in the distance.

*******

I had counted the concrete bricks at least half-a-dozen times in the holding area I was being kept in when a man dressed sharp and sleek finally entered. He looked to be an older man – one of those ‘born of noble blood and ensuring the world knows it with my presence’ gents. The man discussed a few matters with the attending officer who oddly seemed quite tentative and submissive around him. I made out his name was Darius Jem – the name was somehow familiar in the back of my head, but from where I did not know. So much had happened these past few weeks, how was I supposed to keep everything straight? And exactly what kind of influence did this dude have with misplaced priorities as to have business with me?

He turned in my direction, and looked me over from where I sat on the holding cell floor.

“Yes, that’s them. That’s my child.” The cold, fierce stare aimed in my direction dared me to say otherwise.

I played mum, keeping my mouth shut with feigned gratitude leaking out of my eyes. It was enough for the officers to buy it.

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your day Mr. Jem. They’ll be out in just a moment after their belongings are returned.”

Darius left the holding area. Not long after, I was treated to the welcomed clink of barred doors opening for me.

“Lucky day for someone like you with an even luckier father. Come get your stuff and remember that a warning is only given the first time we meet.”

I left without protest. Back on the outside of the police station, Darius waited beside his luxury vehicle. What I would’ve given for a can of spray paint at that moment. He called me over to him, and I approached, keeping a respectable distance. Didn’t trust the guy as far as I could throw him.

"I don’t know who you are–or think you are–but I know for a fact you are not my child, as my Zeydaan is currently on the opposite side of the country. And while I also don't know what universe you managed to slither your way through to get here, I will be the first and last to let you know we already have one Zeydaan, and they are doing a far better job in this realm than you.”

From his pocket he pulled a crumpled, tawny-colored document. I recognized the scribbled handwriting as my own. Bummer. This bloke’s got tabs on the other Zeydaan.

“Your little letters stop here. And please understand it is only because my child has given such pity to you that no harm has befallen you–yet. Still, I won’t have you tarnishing our name with your raving tantrums. You’d do best to scram before you become scrambled. Am I abundantly clear on this matter?”

A challenge? Maybe the old me would have had the reason to not try and test fate here, but I had just gotten out of prison. How much worse could my day get?

“If you really think me looking different is going to stop or change anything, you've got another thing coming. Zeydaan, the Other Me, sees something in myself worth protecting that you clearly don’t understand. Maybe it’d pay to have a chat with them and figure out what’s what instead of broad-chesting yourself all over the square ay? Anywho, thanks for the bailout Pops! Catch yous around!”
Darius stood there, bewildered and aghast at the image of me, this vagrant troublemaker sprinting away with glee. His brow furrowed. The corners of his lips trembled. A car door slammed and the car as fancy and put together as its driver peeled off the street in the most wonderful tizzy to witness.

But my reclamation of freedom was still not complete. A delightfully nefarious capstone to the day’s events hatched in my mind as I saw a policeman tuck himself into a store for a quick bite to eat. His motorbike ran idle in front of the store, keys still in the ignition. Time for a quick bit of revenge, methinks.

Before my mind could blare the insanity of what I was about to do, I was already atop the motorbike and driving off in the direction back toward the unemployment office. Riding at full-throttle without a care in the world, the top of my beanie flapping like one of those advertisement tube men made everything that happened earlier that day worth it. If Mr. Jem wants me to establish my own identity so badly, then I’ll give it to him! I’m Grey Ryder now, and this life I live along the edge is the best place to be me.

I’d only have one chance. Rounding the corner, I aimed the motorbike at the rapidly approaching entrance of the unemployment office at the end of the T-intersection. I leapt off the bike into a heap of trash as it careened unpiloted toward its destination. A bumpy trumpeting signaled its unbridled ascent up the few stairs at the entrance of the office before it vanished in a spectacle of glass and frightened yells. My job done, I tumbled out of the garbage and dashed into a nearby alleyway, making myself cozy once more in the shadowed, cast-aside recesses that were now familiar and known to me. Home was only ever as far as I dreamed it to be, and bedding down that night – still free and alive and whole, I knew the only thing that could ever stand in my way again was me.

*******

As is often the case with many initially good things enjoyed in surplus, in the weeks that followed, the anti-magic narcotics I took showed their true colors. Any of the lingering powers and abilities I possessed only grew weaker and weaker with a disturbingly firm and unyielding character. It wasn't the kind of sensation one might experience with something like a cold, knowing that getting better was just on the other side of a few days' rest and a couple bowls of chicken noodle soup. If only it were that straightforward. This great internal erosion was grit and grind passing over a previously worn and tired existence, shaping a new one into mindless awakening. The scariest part was I barely minded the process.

I couldn’t see the horror of my magical DNA degrading, and with time, no distinction remained between who I used to be and any other ordinary human. The drugs were absolutely clever in how they humbled and numbed the senses and the sensibilities both, giving rise to prolonged periods of memory lapse alongside the development of my increasingly crass and rude demeanor. But I had everything I wanted. Now I was bold, empowered, and self-righteous. I finally began to fit in with the others without worrying about the tethers of the past.

I ended up finally meeting this universe’s local Zeydaan at one of the bridges overlooking the River Tees that had first drawn me here. They were kind enough – bright-eyed and bushy tailed, and actually excited to see me with a small carrier of homemade, hand-rolled sushi for the two of us to share. Maybe I was still blitzed out of my head, but when Zeydaan handed me a box, their form was in a kind of flux. Their shape oscillated in faint, harmonic waves between the wolf before me and a fairy-winged dragon shining yellow like the sun.

From that point on, it didn’t appear like they were simply a version of myself. I had been so self-centric to believe so before. They were a Zeydaan of their origin, or Isabella or sommat else –whatever, I’d figure it out when I came off my last puff– but undoubtedly my chum from down south, who after chatting a bit with, became clear they needed to grow a bit of a backbone.

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or scared out of my mind that my Other Me in this universe didn’t even recognize my former identity. While I hadn’t ever let it slip in my letters who I was, I had hoped on some level there would be this inherent connection between us that would allow them to welcome me formally into their world. Oh well, I guess. At least this way, rejection wouldn’t ever have to rear up its misshapen head to strike me back into the corner I crawled from.

The sushi was beyond delicious though. Would highly recommend it if you ever get the chance.

*******

While I’ve had my misgivings about anything to do with applying for benefits now, getting my name legally changed via deed poll at an assistance office was a much smoother process. Apparently, wanting to change your name doesn’t require as strict guidelines as trying to get funds you’re entitled to. Go figure. In only a few weeks’ time while The Gang helped shore up any loose ends and pitfalls for me, I had received the positively gaudy envelope at my post office box.

Holding the certificate in my hands was a real trip. Grey Ryder. There it was. Me. While everything up until that point in my new life was catalyzed by my actions, the validation of a document inked and printed had me well chuffed. I couldn’t imagine anything looking so simple, yet so perfect in my whole existence.

I went to bed that night thinking nothing in the world could stop me, and with the law now on my side (at least on the books), that was mostly true. I had created this life as Grey Ryder for myself by my own making, and any shreds of who I was before I met The Gang weren’t needed any more.

The morning after, the last fleeting memories of my previous life as Zeydaan had vanished completely. There were no hallmarks of my old life, no reminders or alarms set on my phone to indulge in anything which would have resembled my old life. Nights spent wandering, smoking, and cussing up an occasional storm at the local pub eventually turned up a job at a shoddy cannery with not so shoddy people.
Don’t get me wrong now. I mostly kept to myself there. No need to make acquaintances or connections with people beyond the fact we were all there for the paycheck anyway. Turns out the cannery produced many anti-magic products as a byproduct of their manufacturing process, so from time to time I enjoyed some hard-earned work ‘benefits’ while on the clock. After work, I’d hustle myself right back down to the pub to watch footie with The Gang while downing a cold pint of the good stuff.

From there I was able to lock down some permanent housing on the edge of town. I remember the first night at the new joint. The Gang was keen on throwing a party as raucous as our sneak-in inundation of my last place, but I managed to herd them in line for some indulgence in chicken parmo and chocolate cheesecake – a personal favorite I hadn’t enjoyed in far too long.

Surrounded by my new friends, their tomfoolery truly transforming the house into a home, I couldn't imagine life any better. Seeing their smiling faces, their troubles temporarily distanced from their hearts until they were ready to head back into the world, I was at ease. Through it all, I had done pretty alright for myself, and I couldn’t wait for the next set of adventures ahead.

My new life was simple and impulsive, daring and frightful – the most beautiful struggle I could envision and feel from head to toe. I didn’t take bollocks from anyone and made that clear to anyone who’d entertain thoughts otherwise. Life had become my oyster, my pearl, and the whole bloody ocean to sail as best I saw fit with The Gang’s cheers never wavering from my side all the while.

END

*******

Hello all! Happy Spring to each of you, and I hope that warm days have been bringing warmer opportunities into your lives.

I've been working on getting back on the content treadmill as of late, so without further ado I present this fun commission piece courtesy of featuring Zeydaan/Isabella and their origins into becoming Grey Ryder - a crass, bad-mouthed Smoggy hailing from Northern London. This piece offered me a ton of challenge and opportunity to grow I feel as I navigated exploration of Grey's descent into the underbelly of Teesside while reclaiming a new aspect of their identity and direction of life.

I sincerely and deeply appreciate Zeydaan's patience with getting this piece out to all of you as I was facing quite a bit myself on my end during the timeframe this piece was being developed. They were of fantastic assistance in translating dialogue I had blocked out into 'Smogginese'.

Would wholeheartedly welcome feedback on this piece as I believe it's pretty high up there in terms of overall length for other featured works I've shared here on my page.

Thank you all for being the fantastic individuals that you are. I hear your support and feel your encouraging winds driving me forward, and I look forward to sharing more with you in the days to come! :)

Thumbnail based on images created by

~Lupus

*******

Interested in getting a story commissioned by me? I am currently open! I'd love to get the chance to bring your ideas to life. My commission info can be found here:

K9 Lupus Commission Info

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Click here to check out my Patreon page!

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