I genuinely loved my job. I know I'm one of the few who can honestly say that, but it's true. I miss the gentle slide of shears through the fabric, a simple stitch that wraps a garment neatly around its wearer's frame, and the smile of a satisfied customer. I was great at what I did, but more importantly, it made me happy.

It did, at least, until Zambezi and their stupid AI put me out of business. A centuries-old craft made obsolete by biosensors and in-home 3D printers. Customers couldn't pass up an opportunity like that, and I couldn't particularly blame them. So I spent fifteen years of my life learning skills that a machine can replicate in half the time.

This feeling must have been how typewriter salesmen felt after the computer was invented.

I ended up having to sell my family's tailor shop. Generations of Stars worked out of that shop for more than a century, and I, Mersault Star, had to be the one to sell it. I made a pretty penny, mind you, but it still didn't feel great to lose.

I had everything I could need. A condo fully paid off and close to what little family I had left—enough money so that I could live my entire life comfortably and then some. Also, a couple of hobbies to help pass the time.

Arguably I had everything except a purpose; Zambezi took that from me.

I was deeper in my woes than usual and needed something to help cheer me up. Nothing worked better than a bacon egg and cheese sandwich from Alphonzo's, the bodega only two blocks down from my luxury condo. Vaulted ceilings and the six feet tall barn windows were great and all but the real reason I chose this as my home was between two whole-grain buns. As I exited my building, I held the door open for a delivery driver holding several boxes. After I saw the Zambezi logo, I suddenly got a sour taste in my mouth.

I would've still held the door even if I knew what company employed the driver. After all, they had to make a living. It wasn't entirely their fault they worked for a soulless megacorp.

The whirring of a small RC car caught my attention, and I saw a young girl of 8 or 9 looking in my direction. After a second, she waved, to which I waved back. It wasn't until walking past that I realized she wasn't looking at me but rather the Zambezi driver exiting my building. I couldn't blame the girl; she didn't know the Gestapo uniform he wore was killing the earth and its people. One day when her parents have their jobs stolen, she might get it. It's just a shame it'll take losing Christmas to make a child realize how the world works.

With the BEC of legend acquired, I left Alphonzo's in search of my favorite park bench tucked away in the corner of South Central Park. All and all, it was shaping up to be a perfect purposeless day.

The RC car drove into the crosswalk, hitting the corner of the curb, bouncing, then flipping onto its side. Tires spun in the air, shifting back and forth like a turtle stuck on its back. A second later, the girl entered the crosswalk aiming to retrieve her disabled vehicle.

The only issue was that the RC car wasn't the only vehicle trying to use the road. The Zambezi truck headed down the street, showing no signs of stopping. I didn't think, only moved. Diving across the crosswalk, I forced my palm against her chest, pushing her back onto the curb, and hit the pavement on my side, knocking whatever breath I had from my lungs. Curling my arms and legs into my chest, I attempted to slip between the truck tires. As the truck grew larger and larger, I knew it was in vain.

Zambezi now had literally taken everything from me.

Well, that was somewhat of a life, I guess. I wish I could've done what I loved more.

Career Unlocked: Textile Craftsman

I'd do anything to be able to just create for people again, whatever they want.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Instant Reproduction

By the end, my fittings were immaculate. I wouldn't need tape or any size guide; all I needed were my eyes.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Sensory Estimation

I'd even take cutting the scraps off of clothing like my mother had me do when I was first learning to sew.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Material Reclamation

More than anything, I wish I knew what changes were coming. Maybe I wouldn't have had to sell my family's shop if I had learned just a little bit more.

Unique Feat Unlocked: Information Broker

I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining through full trees overhead. Grass tickled my feet while I could feel the sun's heat beating down. A small rock dug into my lower back, and an occasional breeze shook my whole body. It seemed to cut right through my clothing. I looked down in shock to discover I wasn't wearing anything.

I quickly shot up and gathered in my surroundings. I remembered the girl, the RC car, the truck, and then… nothing. Did someone rob me after the accident and leave me stranded in Central Park after that truck hit me?

"Hello?" I timidly called out to the empty forest.

With silence as my only response, I reluctantly headed into the forest. I covered my shame as I passed through the park, a tailor completely naked? What a ludicrous concept.

"Papa, it's a bandit!" A voice called out from between some trees at a distance.

I saw a mother and father with a young boy standing between them. The man stuck his arm out between the boy and me.

"You some kinda pervert?" The woman asked.

"No, I was just-" I stopped, unsure of what actually happened. "I was mugged."

"That's rough, friend." The man replied. "I think we might have some rags we could spare."

Rags may have been an overstatement. Instead, they wrapped me in two thick canvas sheets, helping cover my sensitive bits. But now that I had something to protect myself, I began to notice their clothing was not any nicer. At first glance, I thought they might be homeless, just some vagrants living in the park. They didn't wear the typical oversized hoodie, sweatpants, or whatever they could get their hands on. Instead, they were draped in cotton fabric, wearing pants fasted only by a drawstring. I had seen these kinds of people once before pretending to fight with foam swords. Clearly, these people were LARP-ing.

After dressing me in what I assumed to be cloth remnants of their costumes, they offered me a drink to parch my thirst. On theme, the family provided me with a leather pouch filled with a bitter liquid that definitely wasn't water.

"This is delicious!" I lied ecstatically to my new nerdy friends. "Where did you get this?"

"Salinel," The man replied cautiously.

"Oh, is that a new store downtown?"

The parents exchanged a quizzical look before the boy took my hand and led me past a treeline. I humored him and followed his lead. Instead of a steel city skyline, stone stretched as far as the eye could see. Individual plumes of smoke sprouted from chimneys throughout the streets.

"I don't think I'm in Central Park," I told myself.

That is correct. A thought replied that wasn't my own.

That's when I noticed it. Unable to see it through the treeline before, a band of debris rotated around the sun.

"Definitely not Central Park."

I did the most respectful thing I could in this situation and waited to have my manic episode until after the family had left me looking out over the stone city.

"Where the hell am I?!" I screamed rhetorically at the city below.

Before you is the city of Salinel, a voice replied that wasn't my own.

I spun and dropped to the ground. I was clenching my fists in front of myself in a defensive gesture. It probably looked ridiculous as I'd never been in a fight before, but it was worth a shot. Thankfully, nothing was there to greet me as I turned.

"Who's there? Where are you?" I questioned the empty forest.

There was a pregnant pause for a moment. As if something was waiting for me to ask the right question.

"What are you?" I corrected hesitantly.

These thoughts occur as a result of your Unique Feat: Information Broker.

"Oh wow, I can't believe that worked. Uh, Broker... voice? What's a feat?"

Feats are boons, resources, or special abilities that the average person does not possess.

"Special ability... like magic?"

Yes, some feats do allow the use of the arcane.

"So I can use magic?!" I asked, maybe too expectantly.

No. Spell usage is based on career skills.

"Oh. Well, what's my career?"

Your career is Textile Craftsman.

So, I'm a tailor?

Correct.

"Do you know how I got here?"

Information unavailable.

"What do you know then?"

Information unavailable.

"Excellent. Will someone in that city know?"

Information unavailable. "Information unavailable"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I am starting to catch your drift. Hang tight, Broke; I'll let you know if I need any more vague answers."

The information broker didn't respond, but I'm sure he got my meaning.

I headed out of the forest closer to the city and found a trail the family presumably took to make their exit.

Long grass ran alongside the road as I noticed a yellow butterfly dancing gracefully above the greenery. I could appreciate the simplicity of this bug in these stressful times.

I reached out my hand in an attempt to call the creature over. To my surprise, it headed in my direction with little hesitation. As it fluttered about a foot away from my beckoning hand, the grass split suddenly, and a fanged maw snapped quickly around the insect.

"What the fuck?!"

The serpent hit the ground in the middle of the path, slithering across as it licked at its lips. It was longer than my forearm and twice as thick, so I gave it a wide berth. Before it moved into the other end of the path into the long grass on the farther side, it stopped in its tracks. It turned in my direction and opened its mouth as I paused, unsure if I was its next target. It stretched its mouth, but fire spewed from its jaws instead of a yawn. The snake burned from start to end like the most disturbing sparkler I've ever seen in my life. At its last little puff of smoke, the yellow butterfly emerged, continuing its pace towards me as if undisturbed by its serpentine attacker.

I pulled my hand back and hopped cautiously over the perfectly arranged snake ashes.

"Broke? Uh, what did I just watch happen?"

A six-stone viper attempted to consume a radiant firefly.

"Okay, thanks… if that bug landed on me, would I have also been burnt to a crisp? "

Unquestionably.

"Great. Hey Broke, do you take requests?"

Potentially.

"If something is about to kill me, will you let me know?"

Potentially.

The city of Salinel was unlike any other I've been to.

After exploring the city for a short while, I decided to check out my competition in this second chance I've acquired. I found a clothing shop on the outskirts of town and was intrigued to see what they had to offer. The clothing looked simple enough—cloth shirts and pants, rigid and haphazardly stitched together. I pulled lightly on a seam and watched as the stitches split, allowing light to pass through. I clicked my tongue in disappointment.

That was when I noticed a fine print that ran across the fabric. Only a couple of letters of a language I didn't know sat displayed across the shirt and pants I held in my hand. At first, I thought it was a logo or seal designed into the fabric. But, not only was this shop too plain for such luxuries, but it moved as I rotated the material in my hands. I focused on it for only a second and watched the letters change. I couldn't read what it said, but somehow, I could tell it was a question.

Being curious, I answered yes.

The shirt immediately eviscerated in my hands from phantom limbs. Every stitch pulled through cleanly and without tearing. The material itself was folded and then pressed into a clean pile. Leaving behind an armful of cloth with a neatly bundled ball of string on top.

"My clothes!" The clothier protested. "Why have you done this?"

"It was an accident," I replied, looking down to see what a foolish concept that was.

"You have to pay for that!"

"So the thing is..." I patted at the sides of the rags on my chest and waist.

"You have no money?"

"No, but I could work it off, maybe? I have a long history of tailoring… despite my appearance."

"You rip up my clothes, can't pay for it, and now you want a job?!"

"Maybe," I took a step towards the shop door catching the shop owner's distaste for my proposal.

"Help! Theif? Vandal? Help!" The clothier shouted out, unsure of how to label me.

I wasn't waiting for him to figure out what to call me. Instead, I headed into the street and watched as the clothier stumbled after me.

"Miscreant! Vagrant! You will pay for what you've destroyed."

"Relax! I said I'd fix it."

"Rapscallion! Ne'er do-well! Somebody help!"

"What are you, a thesaurus?"

He is not a thesaurus.

"Thank you, Broke. But you're not helping!"

Passerbys split around me as the shop owner yelled in my direction, all but one at least. Up ahead, a woman in a hide cuirass entered the cut created by the people actively dodging me. She looked towards the clothier, then towards me, and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Stop!" She demanded, pulling her sword just enough to reveal the blade from its sheath.

I stopped mid-stride turning between her and the clothier.

"Broke, what will they do to me if they catch me?"

Information unavailable.

I paused to think of a wording the Broker might prefer. "What is the most likely thing they would do to me if they catch me?"

Punishment for thievery and vandalism could be anything from bodily mutilation to slavery. That is unless you can pay a fine.

"Running it is then."

She had me cornered. Minutes of running felt like hours as I attempted to dash and scramble through unfamiliar stone streets. It all culminated in an out-of-shape tailor scrambling up a cast-iron fence. She pulled me off effortlessly while I hung, swinging my limbs like a newborn animal attempting to flee its handler.

She was strong; despite her appearance, I would have to ask Broke if that had something to do with skills. I'd have a lot of time to talk with either jail or slavery in my near future.

She carried me through the street like a spectacle. Merchants, children, and even some animals seemed to watch in glee as she held me helplessly aloft.

"Please!" I begged. "You don't understand this is all a mistake. I'm innocent!"

"Right." She replied unconvinced.

I'm sure my rags didn't help sell my case, and to make matters worse, I realized I was clutching the materials I disassembled in the clothier earlier, which led to a rather unsavory idea.

The way that I saw it, I had three options.

Option number one; spend the rest of my life in indentured servitude. Most likely serving as some child emperor's manual labor until my early death.

Option number two; disfigurement, likely my hands. That disability would make repursuing my passions as a tailor near impossible.

And finally, option number three; is the least honorable of all the options. But, seeing as there's no other way to free myself or outrun my surprisingly brawny captor, I'm left with no other options.

I swung my body just violently enough to grip her sword belt.

"Let go. Before I make you let go." She threatened.

I saw the strange sigils appear across the holster. And just like the last time accepted whatever command prompted me. I somehow effortlessly reconstructed a leather sheet and coarse string from my captor's belt. Her sword clanged against the ground while she dropped me in an attempt to catch it.

"What did you?" She started before locking eyes with me.

She dove for the sword attempting to reach it first, but I had different plans. Instead of the blade, I put my hands across her back as she lept to the ground. Then, following the same prompt as before, I removed her cuirass. Finally, I threw the newly acquired bundle of materials to free up my hands.

"I'm really sorry about this," I said, gripping onto her underclothes and accepting whatever the strange prompt asked one last time.

She got to her feet and gripped the sword. I stood back, dropping folded canvas to the ground between my feet and sticking my hands up with the palms facing her. I quickly averted my gaze.

"You... uh." I blushed. "Your uh, clothes."

"What about them?"

She looked down in shock as if suddenly aware of the newfound breeze. I scooped the pile of materials off the cobblestone and took off running in her moment of distraction, praying that her lack of attire would be enough to stop chasing me. But, as I turned to check behind me, I discovered it was not, in fact, enough.

I'm sure many people would desire to be chased by a woman wearing nothing but a pair of leather boots while brandishing a sword. However, I'm not one of those people. Well, maybe I would've been but definitely not after today.

She was gaining on me again faster than before. I'm not sure if it was her lighter attire or her intense rage, but whatever distance I had put between us with my distraction was almost entirely depleted. That was okay, though; I was near my target.

Even the city's outskirts would end soon. Despite her rage, I knew she wouldn't chase me deep into the forest completely naked. If she was willing to, that probably meant I upgraded my punishment from slavery to instant death. As I hit the city's edge, I spun to see how close she was in tow. She'd stopped following about a few buildings back, to my delight. My foot swung into the open air as I missed a step. Then instead of stumbling, my other foot swung out from beneath me.

Per your instructions, I'm letting you know this fall may kill you.