De_Termination//

by WindigogoGadget

Open Your World

Aiden stared at the jam jar in silence.

What was he going to do now?

Petty thievery, Battery, Assault. Granted that last part was happening- happened in a dream and he had no idea if that would count against him or not. Still, pissing off a princess was probably a fast route to prison.

He'd thought of the place of medieval, but really that was inaccurate. They had refrigeration, plumbing, electrical lighting, and magical lights too. Even primitive radio. Certain things were modern while others were weirdly behind. He'd seen modern speakers and studio lights alongside things like the gramophone and vinyl records, everything was just completely backwards. Though, it did give him some hope that he could continue his previous exploits of hacking. Anything that needed to be programmed would always have a vulnerability, it didn't matter the advertising or the packaging, if it lit up and connected to anything in any way, it could be hacked.

'Well. So much for selling food.' At least he had some. He tried to chug the jar, but it didn't quite work out. It was too thick and didn't slide around at all. Begrudgingly, he got into it with his snout and started licking at the insides. He was hungry. Under typical circumstances he probably would've thrown up from how sweet the blend was, reminding him that he didn't taste it before selling it, but he couldn't afford to waste it. It probably would've tasted better if he had bread to go with it.

With something that was either going to make his headache infinitely worse or way better, he got to thinking now that his stomach wasn't trying to kill him before his head did. Aiden Pearce was going to get arrested. That much was a fact.

Between breaking and entering, an arguable attempted regicide and a self-defense case likely to be considered assault, there were quite a few reasons for him to be thrown in jail. In hindsight, he had taken his chances for a possibly quiet and serene life and shot them twenty-two times in the stomach, then given it the mobster treatment with concrete shoes.

And he didn't quite care either.

Peace wasn't really for him. There were moments of peace, the quiet. The brief moment where he could enjoy something simple. Baking, only once. A strawberry milkshake that some AI made fun of him for. Time with his family, his niece, his nephew, his sister.

...He'd promised a long time ago to not look back, and now what was he doing? Looking back at everything now that it had no way of reaching him ever again.

Aiden sighed and flexed his paws, feeling the way the muscles rippled and twitched in the new body. It was fresh, uninjured, and unharmed by the stains of time. Then he stared at his jacket, his trench coat that was left in a slumped heap in a corner of the room. Nothing beneficial about it except pockets, memories, and an air of intimidation.

And for the time being, he was going to try bury everything that came with it. He was going to open his world, and reintroduce himself to it with a new look. He focused properly, taking in the dust that would still fall lazily from his ceiling and the way the jam had thoroughly stained his muzzle. The same way it stained the fur that clung to his skin, he thought, the same way it could stain the stolen sack.

His fur wasn't orange, though it was the typical coloration for foxes. He was gray, white highlights on his tail and muzzle. Orange wouldn't take to dying very well, he'd need lots of it. But gray? It could take on as much color as he wanted, all he needed was patience.

Patience, jam, water, and a stolen bit of needle and thread. With a royal purple cowl fashioned from a stolen apple sack and the remnants of his forgotten leaf hood salvaged and repurposed into wraps for his torso, he would reintroduce to the world a new... Person.

With a purple colored expression only vaguely resembling trepidation, Aiden Pearce walked out of his hideout dressed in prettied up peels and scraps, and headed for the only place where a limited amount of bits could anyone anything decent.

Sugarcube Corner.

Comments

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