Mary really wished that the living, solid wall of darkness had better eating etiquette as another burp rang out, almost deafeningly from its… belly? Could you call the intestines of a living darkness belly? Well, whatever…

After a few tense seconds, Mary opened her eyes and looked at the entrance hall, which for a change, looked exactly as she remembered it. Ok, maybe the queues of applicants were a bit longer, but at least they were still stuck to the floor instead of running on the walls.

Bromman yawned and stretched. “Alright, let’s call it a day.” He scanned her with his dark brown eyes. “... or not. Did anyone come up with an idea of feeding you?”

Mary’s stomach rumbled in response before her brain managed to fully process his words.

Bromman smirked. “Tell me, had someone already managed to corrupt you with the soy-latte-vegan-bio-decaf philosophy, or will an actual food do for now?”

Mary was looking at the Prometheus incarnate, who had, just for her, defied gods themselves to bring her a piece of ambrosia in disguise of a cheap burger from one of the suspiciousliest looking fast foods she had ever seen. Granted, the dentist and notary just next to it might have contributed to her initial prejudice a bit too much. Now, in her freshly enlightened state, she only suspected that the place might have been a front for some really shady organisation smuggling goods out of Mount Olympus. Or, well, just the nearest place Bromman knew that would serve them at 2 am. Despite everything she’d already experienced, Mary was slightly leaning towards the former. Still...

“This is wonderful,” she said with her mouth half full. “Thank you,” she added quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” he answered. “It must have been a hard day, and you’re under my care now. I won’t have you running hungry, at least until I’d be sure you have enough fat to survive the experience.”

Mary should probably be offended at the remark, but at the moment, she would probably forgive the man if he had been a Hitler in disguise. She hoped he wasn’t one, though. She just hated when that happened.

After she finished her meal, Mary noticed that Bromman looked a bit tense. He sat a bit too close to the edge of his chair as if expecting something to happen. It would be rather unfortunate, since right now, she would have trouble lifting herself up from her chair, and running seemed to be a foreign concept, a relict from times immemorial. She started to survey the room for anything dangerous, but it seemed to be exactly what you’d expect to see in a cheap fast food - or a perfect front. Well, except the whizzing UFO, but that one was on her… kind of. Bromman noticed her sudden attentiveness and nodded in approval.

“Good, constant vigilance is a must for those like you and me. Don’t worry too much, though - it can be almost as counter-productive as worrying too little, even if most folks dive straight into the latter. Today you can rely on me, since you’re in no shape for anything other than sleeping. Speaking of which,” he sighed. “I assume that thinking you have no visible baggage only because someone already gave you a compressor would be a tad too optimistic?”

Mary felt her stomach drop ten kelvins colder, despite the food still radiating warmth from within. “Oh no. My bag… Do you have the cell number of Mr Adam? The man who took me from the orphanage to this…whatever it is?” Her SJW buzzed a little louder at that but didn’t call any penalty - apparently, he had some warning system if you were only suggesting inappropriate thoughts.

Bromman slowly shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. Key may know something, but I wouldn’t dare to call her at this hour.” He rose from his seat and motioned for her to follow. “Come, I have rented two rooms in a motel already. You need to grab some sleep. Or stay awake for long hours and question your life choices - the truly heroic way.”

Mary was lying in her bed, which was old but clean and comfy enough, all things considered. The motel looked just like the ‘restaurant’ they had been to - either a perfectly normal, if cheap, place. Either that or equally perfect organ trade/trafficking front. At this point, she decided that checking it via waking up in the morning was reasonable enough.

She was tired, but she couldn’t fall asleep. There were simply too many thoughts running through her head, constantly turning and causing a lot of accidents in the process. The one about starting sleeping at a reasonable hour was probably stuck somewhere in traffic, and would only reach the command centre just before dawn. She really had to get that guy a motor or whatever some time soon.

This was the weirdest, craziest, and longest day of her life. Well, her life so far. She had been kidnapped (in a way, and with her own signature on the agreement, but still), carried by a cerberus, swallowed (and spat back out) by some darkness that doubled as a fast way out of the crazyhouse and fed a delicious meal by a near-complete stranger. And even now that she was physically relaxed, her thoughts wandered to the baggage she lost. She still hoped to reclaim it, of course - but so far, in all her life, she hadn’t been separated from her stuff like this, little as it was. And though Mary lacked necessities like a change of clothing, what she missed most was an ugly, pink hairband.

She never wore the thing, but it was a gift from her grandmother. The only item Mary still had from the good, old times. She didn’t remember much, of course - she was just a child, then. But that thing served as a pleasant reminder that things hadn’t always been like that, and so they wouldn’t always be this way either.

She rolled over to the other side. And then, there was Mr Bromman Ward. She didn’t know what to make of him. On the one hand, he seemed to be on the less crazy side of things. On the other, she wondered if it wasn’t just a Stockholm syndrome kicking in. Before they went to separate rooms, he murmured something with his hand on a handle, ‘warding’ the doors.

“If something can reasonably be made safer, it isn’t safe enough,” he said. It was, as he put it, ‘the rule forty-seven’. He told Mary passwords to both hers and his doors and left her to herself. He didn’t mention the waking hour - maybe he’d let her get some real rest...

She was almost asleep when she felt a sting of a new feeling deep in her heart. One she did not expect at all.

She missed her orphanage. It was stupid, and she was being stupid. She wanted to get out of that place for years. Yet… despite not being a real home, she thought of it like that. Funny… when she saw Sister Katia, she’d have to tell her that it hadn’t taken a day for her to miss the once hated walls and Sister Angelica, even with her ridiculous rules, and... although, calling them ridiculous now, after everything she’d seen…

She’d definitely have a lot to tell her, she’d have quite a laugh... That is, if Mary’d ever seen her again...