A Day of Work Pt. 2

Senior POV

As I stand in the sorta kinda bus, I sigh knowing that the *fun* is about to start.

Why can't it just be evenly distributed?! Why can't I meet one gangster at a time and not 12? Thats cause life hates me, probably...

As the bus nears the stop and the female voice that holds the bare minimum of emotion notifies us to motion the 'driver' in case you want to get off, which I promptly do by pushing a button on the side of the car (Or bus, for people who don't know bus slang).

As the bus lurches to a stop in front of my apartment complex, I brace myself.

I got my imaginary pepper spray in my right hand, bribe money in the left hand, and hop out, almost prepared for the hostile world.

When I take a step outside, the humid- no steamy air of the apartment attacks my dry skin, and my nose.

Finding it harder to breathe in this cool and humid climate, whoever is using the humidifier, turn it the fuck off!

I make it to my apartment building without being asked for money or offered chicks or drugs.

However, I know for a fact that my humble abode is among some of the worst parts of this district, so... this is gonna be so fun.

As I slide open the door that used to be automatic until some kid broke it and the landowner is too lazy to ask a repairman to come, and for that reason, it'll be forever broke, like me.

Whether it was due to my power trip with Kylie, or when she threw me against the wall and a little too much brain gooze came out, or something else entirely, I decided to take the elevator, and no one EVER takes the elevator!

Nevertheless, I click the 'UP' button, and there is no way I can go back now, there are unspoken elevator rules after all, and chickening out after clicking the up button is one of those rules that if you break, they'll beat you up twice- No! Three times more than the normal amount.

As the door creaks open I see the last person I would like to see, even less than the sleazy drug man.

Now I don't really know his name but since he had a 6'6" stature, with muscles, a mean brick face, hatred for everything 'Not-American' (Definitions may very on his attitude), biceps that could probably tear shirts if he flexed, and scars that looked like lion scratches but everyone knows they're fake, from a botched horse hormone injection.

Anyways, according to my 100% accurate brain assumption machine, I assume his name is... Jeff the Extremist Hunk. Now I never call him this, cause I don't wanna die yet, but I already know that it's the correct answer.

"Hey man, get out of the alien slaying champ! Or I'll make you!" He threatens.

Oh! Did I ever tell you he thinks of himself as this kind of Doomslayer, or some kind of marine who shoots aliens, and nobody has the heart to tell him that cause one, there are no known alien species and if we did tell him, he'd start shooting people he called Lizard People. Two marines work as an invasion force, they don't go into space force, he watched too many millennial space movies like me and took them the wrong way, I guess.

A walk out of the elevator as Jeff the alien wehraboo to be shoved in by some faceless side character and the door shuts on me, leaving me alone with him, why didn't I just take the stairs?!

"What did I tell you, pal!?" His voice raising with every word, he's quite good at crescendo's somehow, maybe his father raised him to be a Castrato, he would've been famous...

"Sorry, man. I was on my way out when some doofus kicked me back in, however, I did slip some money from him, if you want some," I hand him one hours worth of wages, about 15 bucks.

He takes the money and looks satisfied...

... Until we passed level 50, then he mutters, "Nobody gives money to anyone unless they're an alien trying to influence me... hmmm..."

I quickly press the next level to get off on, or else I may not be getting outta here in one piece, or two to be honest.

As soon as the doors open on level 57, I speedwalk out, not waiting for him to do something extremely impulsive on my 'generosity'.

Hearing a heavy thump behind me, I know that Jeff is now concluding me to be a Lizard Man or something, and it's time to do some hardcore cardio, and I truly hope the Kylie knows how to do more than punch an unsuspecting man.

As I practically vault 15 floors, but I feel like the anaerobic respiration's affects are hitting me, then I hear thuds coming from underneath me and I quickly run to my room.

When I try to fish out my key, I can't find it, and I hear the stairway door creaking open, and I start pounding frantically on the door, not even wondering how he knows what level I live on.

When alas, the door creaks open to see a young Kylie in one of my long shirts, and... no pants?!??!

Well, I pray your kung fu master taught you well, since your round is coming at you ready to add a new hole to your collection!

"I'm sorry Kylie, can you help me with this? He's kinda not my ty-"

Kylie cracks her knuckles, can robots crack nuckles? DO THEY EVEN HAVE KNUCKLES?!?!?

Doesn't matter, "Good luck," I whisper, and go inside, getting my autocannon ready for the worst case scenario.