Rest is a blessing that blue-collar sinners rarely know.

  Brom found himself at The Grey Anchor Cafe, watching the cold rain hit the window. It sounded like popcorn, the fat droplets exploding against the glass. After the day he'd had at work, this was a real treat for him, the innards of the old dive diner unchanged since his childhood. The same black and white tile floor with the same black and grey faux leather of the booths, the flickering overhead lights reflecting off those old salt shakers. Mica table tops and stainless steel cutlery that was pulled from the apron pocket of a waitress who kept glancing nervously at the space above Brom's head.

  "I can turn the information back on if it bothers you that much."

  She flinched, waving the little pad she wrote her orders on. "Oh, no, sir. It's okay!" Her voice sounded as cheap and insincere as a water-damaged greeting card.

  "Already had trouble, right?" Brom offered her a tired smile. "I get it. Cameras aren't working, and people have super-powers."

  She nodded, pony-tail bouncing, and gestured with her pen. "Oh no, it's not that. It's not the people with powers that are the problem, it's mostly teenagers. And monsters. Did you see that thing that was in the harbor?"

  "Who didn't? At least it won't be causing us any more problems. Dungeon was cleared." Brom was more than confident that Yacht Sothoth wasn't going to be anyone's problem anymore. Except for maybe some marine habitats, as he cleared out old shipwrecks.

  The waitress, Carly Lv 2, brightened at the reminder. "Yeah, yeah, it was. So, sorry, what can we get you tonight?"

  Ah, right, the reason he'd come. Food. "Can I get the Irish Scramble with rye toast and a cup of black spice tea? This place seems to still have access to stuff I can't buy at the store." The menu seemed almost unchanged, actually, with only a few scattered items missing. Like the System had trimmed it for size and not content. While Brom would have preferred to cook for himself, some things he just couldn't get the supplies for.

  Carly finished writing, reading the order back to him, her previous tension removed by the normalcy of the interaction. She was just a waitress, clocked in because the quest system was making her. Brom was just a tired swing shift worker, looking to eat his corned beef hash and hashbrowns. Breakfast for dinner. But breakfast was the best thing the Grey Anchor made. "So that's the Irish Scramble with rye and the spiced black tea. I'll be right back with the tea."

  It was so quiet without cars going past the Cafe. He wasn't alone in here, an NPC was eating a bowl of soup at the counter, wearing the face of an older man Brom hadn't known before and never would now. A young couple had a booth back by the kitchen, friends of the staff, it looked like, since they were chatting casually with whoever was in the kitchen. It was a picture-perfect quiet moment.

  And the universe couldn't be having that now, could it?

  Almost like they'd been summoned by some unseen directive, a group of four pushed open the door, and the loud sounds of their conversation spilled over into the previous calm. They didn't look overly remarkable at first glance, ratty sneakers and hoodies for bands or brands that didn't resonate with Brom.

  "- and her face! Her face was priceless!" The one in the middle was gesturing animatedly to the rest, their laughter the response to whatever tale he was telling them. "Man, some people didn't take the Tutorial to heart, yanno?" With that, he flopped into the booth, the other three taking up the remaining places.

  "Yeah, how can people be so dumb? They were given weapons and powers, and they're like, not going to use them?" The biggest of the four laughed too loud, pushing his hood back to reveal acne and a blonde buzzcut.

  Brom caught sight of Carly, who was giving the new table a wide berth, bringing him his tea. Her hands were shaking a little as she set it down, and he smiled at her reassuringly. He wanted to say something, but it wasn't his place. Honestly, some people were just socially clueless, and those people had just been empowered. Maybe, despite the vibe they were giving off, these guys didn't mean any harm. They were just excited and expressive.

  He stirred cream into his tea slowly, watching Carly draw up her courage and go get the menus to deliver to the four-top. His attention slid back to the scene beyond the window, or it tried to. With the darkness outside, it only turned the glass into a mirror that showed what was going on inside the cafe. He watched Carly put down the menus, the glasses of water. He saw the big guy with the acne reach out too quick and one of the glasses splashed.

  Instantly, the leader was on his feet, arms stretched out and looking at his soaked front. "Oh my god, are you stupid? I'm soaked now!"

  Brom pinched the bridge of his nose and stared into his steaming mug of tea. He didn't want to get involved. No sir, he didn't want to get involved. He was chanting that phrase like a mantra in his head, listening as the argument escalated. Even the NPC looked up, soup dripping from his beard, watching it all unfold. Just a few days ago, a scene like this would have been rare to the point of being Hollywood drama. Only the most unstable person in the worst establishment would have been this easily provoked and unreasonable.

  The world had changed.

  So had Brom.

  He stood, casually crossing the diner, ceramic cup of tea in hand. With Leader in the middle of whatever nonsense he was saying, Brom reached out and grabbed him by the hoodie hood. None too gently, he yanked the scrawny man right off of his feet, dragging him toward the door and ignoring his thrashing and panicked squeals. Neatly holding the ceramic with two fingers, he pulled the diner door open with the other two and chucked the flailing man outside. He took another sip of tea, then gestured with his mug to the other three. "Alright, out. Nobody here is going to entertain your shit."

  [Reminder: PvP is not permitted in safe zones!]

  Acne was, predictably, the first to reach him. Brom had pegged him as a short-tempered sort of guy, and he wasn't proven wrong. Brom got a fistful of his hoodie and spun him, using the big man's own momentum to toss him out into the street. Acne impacted Leader who'd only just gotten to his feet, sending both of them sprawling. Brom continued to lean against the door, holding it open, his grey gaze fixed firmly on the remaining two. "Last call chuckle-fucks, out."

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  Surprisingly, the last two chose discretion and slunk outside to help their friends up. Brom shut the door gently but firmly behind them and stood there for a moment, finishing the last of the tea that was in his mug. The four stared back at him from the other side of the glass.

  "Carly, you should call the police. I can't spend my night here, and they look like they're willing to wait me out."

  He didn't understand it himself, but he couldn't say this was new. Brom had always had a habit of interjecting himself in situations like this. Usually, it didn't pan out well for him. So he couldn't help the warm satisfaction that spread through his chest this time as he watched those four, locking eyes with Leader. He knew the expression that man was wearing. The helpless one where just a moment before things had been going so well. People like those merry four out there were only going to become more and more common as people shed the rules of the old society before they ran into the rules of the new society.

  Honestly, what were they trying to accomplish inside city limits anyway? It was a safe zone. No PVP. No skill uses. Nothing. Possibly they could smash up the cafe, but what good would that do? For all anyone knew, the buildings would instantly repair themselves. Money? Could they even rob this place? Were there gold coins in the register? Brom wasn't going to check. He just stood there in the doorway until those four slunk off, only then returning to his seat.

  The cops showed up ten minutes later, both of them clearly tense. Brom couldn't imagine the pressure these guys were under. Both of them had their information viewable, their names above their heads. 'Evan Lv 3' and 'Barry Lv 3'. It seemed the officers had been doing some levelling, probably forced to hunt sirens on the beach. It suddenly dawned on him that sending Yacht Sothoth to clear the sirens out might have set back the easy hunting spot.

  Brom's palms always got sweaty when he had to talk to the cops, his anxiety shooting up even if he was perfectly innocent. There was just something about being questioned, like, when was it going to turn around and bite him in the ass. These guys were pretty easy, talking to the NPC first, which didn't go over well. Then Carly, who pointed him out. Brom was on his third cup of tea when the two of them approached him, their eyes going to the space above his head and then back to his face.

  "Hello, sir, I'm Guard Rodgers, and that's Guard Millar with the Cold Bay Guard. Can we just get a quick statement from you?" 'Evan' aka Guard Rodgers was smiling politely, his posture clearly relaxed since there was no active anything happening.

  "Oh, and can you just unhide your information for a moment? It helps us verify the data. No body cams anymore, so we have to use this gizmo." Barry, or Guard Millar as he'd been introduced, held up a stone on a string that had been hanging from his belt.

  This is why Brom shouldn't have gotten involved. There were several other people here that he didn't want to be flashing things off to. What was the point of selecting 'Hide All' if people were going to keep asking for you to show some of it? "I've got my ID, would that work instead? I'm not comfortable flashing everything in public." And there was, as of yet, no law against it.

  The postures became slightly less friendly as the two officers shared a glance, but Brom waited patiently. He wasn't just going to fish in his coat and have them misunderstand something. It was nothing against them, they didn't have bad intentions, the world had just gone insane. They weren't worried about guns, they were probably worried about weird magical devices or who knew what else.

  "We understand, sir. An ID would be fine too."

  Given permission, Brom fished his wallet out and pulled his driver's license, now a wholly useless piece of plastic. Guard Millar picked it up, scanned the little pendant thing over it, and then blanched. "Brom Jones... the guy that closed the dungeon, that Brom Jones?"

  Brom was not a common name. Usually, it was the short form of Abraham, but, much like a person could be named Rich without being short for Richard, Brom was just Brom. Honestly, he was lucky it was 'just' Brom. Before having a change of heart on the day he was born, the plan had been to name him Grayson. A boat named Bromwell had changed the plan.

  The guards staring at him didn't need the deep lore though. He sighed and smiled at them. "Pretty sure I'm the only Brom in Cold Bay, so, yeah, that Brom Jones. Evening sirs."

  Suddenly, things were a whole lot different. This guy was the hometown hero. The one who'd stopped the massive monster that had been destroying property down the waterfront and who'd cleared the dungeon in the harbor. The Sheriff wanted to talk to him. The Chief wanted to meet with him. The Mayor wanted to shake his hand. The Superintendent of the school district wanted him to give speeches at the schools. Everyone in the city bureaucracy wanted to talk to this man, and here were Guards Rodgers and Millar, running into him over an incident in the local diner.

  The attitude change was an instant sort of thing. It wasn't that the officers became fawning, that would have been uncomfortable for everyone around. It was just an instant vanishing of tension. The smiles relaxed, and a little more politeness moved into their voices. Where there could have been hang-ups in the process, everything smoothed over. It helped that Brom hadn't actually done much, he'd overstepped a little, but what he'd done wasn't entirely uncommon in Cold Bay, just usually it was relegated to the bars where troublemakers would get pitched out by those around them. A quick statement to take, a few pleasantries exchanged, then they went and got statements from the couple, from the kitchen staff.

  On his way out the door, Guard Rodgers swung back by Brom's table. "We couldn't persuade you to stop by the station, could we? Not about this... the Captain just wants to talk to you."

  Brom opened his mouth, the refusal on the tip of his tongue. He didn't want to get involved with things in the greater community at large that would keep him possibly in the public eye. The System, however, seemed to think that getting involved with law enforcement was a content ticket because the notification lit up in his vision.

  [Quest: Justice Never Sleeps]

  - Visit Captain Roy Quint.

  Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck the System. Fuck everything. "Yeah. I can stop by now if he's available."