Typhos walked aimlessly down the street, the dim street lights illuminating his path. It wasn't the first time he had been kicked out of a residence. In fact, it was a common occurrence in his life. People just didn't like to put up with the person who did nothing but drink booze and cause disturbances. He had managed to stay at this place for about 2 weeks, making it the longest in the past year, possibly because of his relationship with the superintendent. Pushing open the doors to the convenience store, Typhos as once again greet by the chubby man behind the counter.

"You're back early today," he said cheerfully before noticing the briefcase, "Shit...got kicked out again I presume?"

"Yeah," Typhos sighed as he placed two 10 Vin bills on the counter, "just the usual please."

"Got somewhere to go this time? You've been kicked out of nearly every apartment on Wilheim."

"I'll figure something out. Maybe live next street over, it's still not that long of a walk." Typhos said, turning for the door with bottles in hand.

"Ya do what ya gotta do, Typhos. Just...don't get yourself killed, you're my best customer." The man shouted after him as he left the store.

The tingle of the shop's doorbells echoed behind him as he once again walked aimlessly down Wilheim. A hum filled the air as a landbound speeder flew past him on the street. The vehicle was open topped and ran completely on electricity. A single windshield in front protected the driver, redirecting the wind over or around them. There was no visible engine. All vehicles had become completely electric over 500 years ago, along with most other things that required power. He could still remember clearly the day when true electricity was discovered. Over time, the amount of people who could use mana had plummeted, and society had been forced to turn to an alternative method of power. One such source was electricity. A scientist, who's name he never cared to remember, had begun testing electric spells, attempting to see what electricity was. Of course, he had made little progress, seeing as mana generated lightning was fundamentally different than actual electricity. However, he had eventually made a breakthrough and introduced normal electricity to the world.

As the speeder disappeared into the distance, Typhos opened one of the bottles, taking a long drink as he walked. He really didn't know where he would go this time. The shop owner was right, he had exhausted all his options on Wilheim street. If he hadn't already been kicked out of an apartment, the owner had heard the rumors and would refuse him. He only got into the last one because he was apparently good at fucking. Finishing the first bottle and wishing for the millionth time he could get drunk, Typhos turned down an alley. He stopped near its entrance and put his back to the wall, slowly sliding down to a sitting position. He placed his briefcase on his lap, his fingers fumbling with the latches. When he finally unlocked it, he opened it slowly, reverently.

The briefcase was nearly empty, housing only three things. The first two were a pair of diamond rings. They sat side by side, always together. The other was a picture, framed in pure gold. Typhos gently brushed the picture, his memories flooding back to him.

"How was your day...."

"What would you like for dinner...."

"It's going to be okay..."

"I love you..."

Typhos screamed as he lashed out, the unfinished bottle in his hand shattering against the wall. His hand was cut in several places and he was soaked in rum, but he ignored it all. A single tear meandered its way down his cheek before dripping onto the picture. Closing his eyes, Typhos closed the briefcase gently, locked it up, and sat it beside him. His hand fumbled blindly for the second bottle, his desperate fingers grasping it. Raising it to his lips, he drank long and fast, downing nearly half the bottle in one go. The bottle dropped to his side as he gasped for air, his chest heaving. After recovering he took another drink, finishing the bottle a few minutes later.

His rum now gone, Typhos's thoughts once again turned to his living situation. If he really wanted to he could abandon the bar and move to the commons, but he knew he wouldn't. Even if he spent an unholy amount of money on booze, he had lived a very long time. What little he had saved every year had added up, amounting to a sum most could only dream of having. However, he refused to use it. Perhaps living in the slums was his own way of punishing himself for his past, punishing himself for the terrible acts he had committed. Most likely he would simply move down to the next street. It wouldn't be the first time he had moved, nor would it be the last.

Struggling to his feet, Typhos glanced down at his hand and cursed. The cuts were pretty nasty this time, ,and he knew if he didn't wrap it he could be in trouble. Taking off his leather jacket and dropping it to the ground, he peeled off his shirt and bound it tightly around his hand. The wounds from last night were already long healed, leaving him only with fresh cuts. That was something not in his Statistical Manipulation could fix, his sleep healing. Putting the jacket back on, Typhos once again began walking down Wilheim. He had a purpose this time - the bank at the end of the street.

Several minutes of walking later, he arrived at his destination. The bank was open 24 hours a day, a convenience Typhos had used several times withdraw money for his booze. The clerk began moving the moment he entered the bank, retrieving an amount of 100 Vin from the bank vault. He slid the bills under the counter and smiled at Typhos.

"This puts your account balance at 9,400 Vin, Typhos. You got 94 nights left of drinking before you're broke."

"Thanks for the update Sid, I'll be counting." Typhos replied as he grabbed the cash. As he exited the bank, he glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands read 6:00, telling Typhos all he needed to know.

Back on the street, Typhos set out on his way to Xavier's Bar. Whenever he got kicked out of an apartment he would always head to Xavier's and throw back a few drinks to celebrate. He knew Xavier wouldn't fire him for drinking up a storm at his bar, he was simply helping business. Of course, he would still clock in for his 6-12 shift in the evening. He never worked the morning shift, mostly because on the nights he didn't dream he would sleep straight through until past noon. Pushing through the double doors, Typhos entered the empty bar. As he made his way to a stool by the bar, a voice shouted from the employee room.

"Fuck off we're closed. Come back when we open!"

"Oh fuck you too, Jasmine! I know we open at 6, get out here and pour me something!"

In response, a grumbling, auburn haired girl exited the break room, sauntering behind the bar. She grabbed a random bottle from the speed rail and poured it into a glass, sliding it toward Typhos as she leaned on the bar.

"So, I'm guessing you being here means you got kicked out of another apartment?" She inquired.

"Yup, destroyed half a wall this time. Super decided that she had had enough of the night disturbances and repair bills."

"Well, maybe if you actually came out and told people what's wrong the night episodes might fade?" She replied as she poured herself a glass.

"Oh please, Jasmine, don't preach to me. If I wanted or needed to share my issues I would have done so already." He replied, exasperated.

"No, you wouldn't have. That's not who you are, Typhos. You push people away, afraid to get close to them. Sometimes I wonder why you even let me be your friend."

"Well," he said, draining the glass before continuing, "I've found it helps to confide in someone. Keeping to many secrets makes me lose control more often, bottles something up inside."

"Hmm, I'm not sure if I'm glad you chose me or not. Now, I know losing a family is hard, but you need to do something with your life, Typhos. You are the best bartender I have ever seen. You can create and mix drinks faster than anyone I have ever seen, and if you cleaned up a bit you would be quite handsome. Move to the commons, work in a real bar, get a real life, Typhos. You can't let the past destroy your future."

Typhos chuckled lightly before he responded, "I don't need to move anywhere. I've got a life here, Jasmine. I drink, I have sex, I work a bar. I consider that a life."

"You drink alone and fuck random hookers off the street. You work a rundown shithole that can barely be considered a bar. That isn't a life, Typhos, that is a mess."

The conversation was interrupted by the doors of the bar banging open. A group of four men, regulars who worked the night shift at a restaurant down the street, entered the room. They all meandered up to the bar, sitting beside Typhos. Jasmine gave Typhos one last look before turning her attention to the other patrons. Grabbing the bottle of rum, Typhos poured himself another glass. Then another. Then another. He didn't know how many drinks it took, but eventually his vision began to get blurry. He smiled happily, pouring himself another drink. Another unknown amount of drinks later, Typhos finally blacked out, his head falling against the bar.

----------------------

“I didn't dream.”

That was Typhos's first thought as he opened his eyes. He looked around him and recognized the break room. Jasmine must have dragged him here after he passed out on her bar. Shaking his head, Typhos looked at the clock: 5:30. Putting a hand to his head, he slowly massaged his temples, clearing his head. He wasn't hung over. He couldn't get hungover. The effects of the alcohol had all been purged from his system in the past 10-11 hours. Standing up, Typhos stretched before heading to the employee lockers. Xavier's Bar had a dress code for both it's waitresses and its bartenders. Each had a uniform that they wore everyday at work. With a total of 4 employees, Typhos guessed it wasn't hard to get matching outfits. Opening his locker, he grabbed his uniform and made his way to the dressing room.

Half an hour later, Typhos was on the job. He had relieved an exhausted Jasmine nad taken his position behind the bar. The poor girl worked the bar 12 hours a day in order to pay her rent. Of course, Typhos could have helped her pay, but she had vehemently refused his offer, saying something about being a burden and not wanting to rely on others. Typhos could understand her position, so he had left it alone.

The night was going perfectly fine until about 11 PM. The doors suddenly blasted open, banging loudly against the walls as they swung back fully on their hinges. A group of 5 men and 1 woman entered, staggering up to the bar. It was clear to Typhos that they were already drunk, but he served them drinks anyway. It wasn't really his place to interfere with people unless they broke Xavier's policy. A few minutes of riotous drinking later, the woman began shouting at one of the men.

"Keep your hands off of me, Dylan, I'm not gonna fuck you!" She complained loudly.

The man, who Typhos guessed was Dylan, ignored her, sliding closer to her, wrapping a hand around her before groping her breast. She yelled at him and tried to push him away, but he only got closer. Typhos sighed and approached the group. Usually issues like this were resolved with a few words about Xavier's policy and a bar from coming to Xavier's. Tonight, however, Typhos would not be so lucky.

"Hey!" he said as he approached, "keep the hands of the lady. Xavier doesn't allow that here, and it shouldn't be done anywhere. Keep it up and I'll be forced to throw you out and bar you from coming. Xavier's only allows one mistake, Dylan."

The man turned to him and sneered. He released the girl, instead opting to jump over the bar, proving he had at least some level of stats. He landed right beside Typhos. He stepped closer, his repugnant odor wafting into Typhos's nose. Dylan was a big man, standing at over 2 meters and 115 kilograms. He pushed his chest at Typhos, sneering down at him.

"Or what, little man? YOU are going to throw me the fuck out? You?"

"That is correct, Xavier's policy."

"Hah! Let's see you damn try." He said, as he stepped back, throwing a punch at Typhos. Typhos didn't move, allowing the punch to land squarely on his face. When the punch made contact, a memory suddenly rose in Typhos's mind.

"Don't touch her....no....NOOOO....STOP I'LL DO ANYTHING....STOP....PLEASE..."

The crunching sound of breaking bone resounded in the bar, and Dylan screamed. His pulled his hand back, examining the bent and dislocated fingers. Typhos couldn't help but feel a strange sense of regret. He had almost hoped this man could hurt him, perhaps kill him, if he was in his repressed state. He had been looking for a way to die for a long time, but had never found one. Focusing his thoughts, Typhos reached out, grabbing the bewildered Dylan by the color. He hoisted him into the air with little issue, and threw him across the room like a ragdoll. One of the doors was yanked off its hinges as Dylan slammed into them. Typhos placed one hand on the bar and vaulted it, landing lightly on the other side. He stalked forward, shoving chairs out of his way. He stood over Dylan, looking down at him. Bending over, he picked him up once again by his collar, holding him in the air in front of him.

"Don't. Come. Back. And don't lay a hand on that woman again." He said coldly, before his free hand lashed out, connected with Dylan' chest. He released his grip on his collar as the punch connected, and Dylan was blasted backwards. He flew 5 meters before landing with a thud in the street. Turning around, Typhos found himself confronted by the four other men. Typhos tilted his head slightly, his voice cold.

"Get out. I don't want to see any of you again."

The men scurried past him, leaving as much space as possible between them. Typhos made his way over to the bar once again, this time entering through the turnstile. He grabbed a glass and a premium bottle, pouring a glass and sliding it across the table to the girl.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Ye-yeah...I got to go." She said, ignoring the drink as she scrambled for the door.

About 30 minutes later, the sound of sirens echoed. Of course, this was nearly a nightly occurrence in the slums, but this time was different. Typhos cleaned the final glass of the night, having shut down the bar early, and changed into his leather jacket. Exiting the break room, he made his way to the front of the store. He picked up the door and placed it against the wall. Stepping outside, he allowed the police officers to tie his hands behind his back, speaking as they did so.

"Typhos Dillian, you are under arrest for the murder of Dylan Astros."