This is a story of the Becoming Monsters Universe by AiLoves, setting used with permission.
The idea for this story and these characters comes from Moonwing.
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Chapter 1: Take A Chance
The shoddy grocery store speakers cracked with static. "Cleanup, aisle three," announced a cheery voice.
Heath Martin, already on the way after hearing a glass jar shatter, shook his head as he crawled under the shelves. This was something he was uniquely suited for, being quite slight and flexible, and it often saved him significant amounts of time rather than trying to get to the ends of the often-crowded aisles. Especially towards the beginning of the summer tourist season. Especially now. The Change had struck three years before. That first year was a bust, too many people were too busy not dying to even pretend to enjoy themselves on the Vegas Strip. Second year, similarly, was stuck in recovery mode. Now, though? Year three? The crowds were back, with an absolute vengeance.
Delvers blowing off steam. Families feeling safe enough to travel. College students on break (especially from that new university at Yellowstone). A wide selection of other folks with more money than morals and even less sense than either. With them, the performers and salesmen to prey on their wallets, assorted other scum to prey on their bodies and sensibilities, and a thousand types of people who needed the City of Sin's infamous "look the other way" attitude about their pasts.
All of which, in turn, led to him running into a puddle of pickle juice as he emerged from under the shelves, a sheepish-looking humanoid with a couple of largish claws that the store wasn't designed to accommodate looking at him as he reformed himself. The yellow fluids stained his clear flesh the color of urine, which was not pleasant but was infinitely better than having this happen with actual piss. Heath Martin, Gooey as his friends called him, was a Slime. One as transparent as crystal, called a Glass Slime by the people trying to categorize such things. He wore a brown apron with a name tag on it as his concession to needing a uniform, along with a matching store baseball cap to give people an idea of where his head was when they weren't used to dealing with him, but a certain lack of differentiation made other clothes pointless.
His managers appreciated the fact that he could soak up spilled food without worry, and that he could carry a dustpan around to brush broken glass into. All that the people behind him would need to do is lightly mop up and the aisle was good to go. Some people online claimed that he wouldn't even need the dustpan once he got skilled enough, but after cutting himself and spilling clear goop everywhere a couple of times Heath decided against experimenting further for a while.
Dump the glass in the trash, take a moment to eject some dust bunnies that got soaked up with the pickles, have a metaphorical breather (since he no longer had lungs to do so more literally), and turn once more to the job of stocking shelves. Which, of course, is when the yelling started.
Being more curious than was at all safe had been a theme throughout Heath's life. When he took off running, it was towards the yelling instead of away from it. You know, like his manager, whom he passed on the way. Rounding the corner into produce, the source was obvious. Two men stood between the carrots and the garlic, lit with flickering magic that spilled into the visible spectrum. One, streaked with jagged white lines and smelling of ozone, seemed to have a seizure and explode into a giant ball of electricity. The aisle was wrecked immediately, a lash of lightning nearly struck the Glass Slime. He thankfully had another trick up his sleeve, a shield of Null power that soaked the Lightning up like his body had the pickle juice earlier.
Curiosity assuaged, Heath leapt over to aisle two as the alarms began to blare. Police didn't take long to respond. The store now mostly empty, Heath found his boss wanting him to clean it up. Alone, so that the rest of the store would stay staffed.
The apron and baseball cap made an extremely satisfying thunk hitting the trash can when he quit.
***
"You know why you're back here, Hush. Tell me why. It's not like you ever
stop
talking unless someone makes you." The Human woman behind the desk was in a dark business suit, a frown on her face and fingers steepled.
In rather direct contrast, the shapely woman standing in front of the desk was covered in dark red fur, had cat ears, and was wearing a skimpy maid costume. The kiss-shaped black marks around her body only emphasized points where lecherous onlookers could leer. "Probably that skeezeball from the beginning of lunch rush." There was an uncomfortable span of about five seconds. This, unfortunately, was about the limit of what Sienna "Hush" Usher could tolerate before continuing. "Seriously! We get creeps all day every day, kinda knew that coming in and I don't mind being ogled. I work in a Catgirl Maid Cafe on the Strip! Heck, been propositioned a time or two, heck of a compliment if you ask me, but you gotta take a few steps before reaching out and groping my butt! No matter how nice a butt it is, and I work hard for it."
The woman in the business suit sighed. Sienna worked hard, looked incredible, and brought lots of tips to the waitress pool. There were just two issues. Her mouth, and... "and how did you respond to this?"
"Oh! That. I just used what the Status gave me to discourage him from repeating himself! It worked, he didn't bug me at all for the rest of the time he was there."
"Sienna, you clawed him." Sienna's claws emerged from her surprisingly-dexterous paw-like hands, bright silver in contrast to the black fur there. Over half an inch of razor sharp terror apiece. "You clawed him across his right wrist, severing his tendons and arteries. The man will require extensive surgery and magical healing to be able to use his dominant hand again, and only the presence of a paramedic at the bar kept him from bleeding out."
"He shouldn't have groped a Nekomata!"
"You are missing the point. The cafe will survive the insurance payments. However, your continued employment with us has been severed as a part of the terms of the payment, due to your response being deemed disproportional. Your final paycheck is on the desk. It is up to the waitress pool whether they will share tips. Leave the uniform when you get changed."
The shocked silence lasted for six seconds this time, a feat that emphasized how badly Sienna's world just got shaken. Sobbing and with tears in her eyes, she took her meager pay for the last time.
***
Two kindred souls left their jobs to step into the noonday desert sun. Two people a few blocks away from each other, unknowingly echoing one another as they trudged home. Both found the fliers within moments of each other.
"Try the life of a Dungeon Delver risk-free*! Five gold per person per trip, you keep the experience and a share of the loot!"