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Monday, September 26th, 2253 - 9:47 pm

Market Street - The Mystical Menagerie

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"And done!" Jeremiah let out a triumphant breath, arms stretched overhead as he surveyed his work.

It had taken hours of sweat and stubbornness, but at last, every purchase from the System Store sat exactly where he wanted. Before any of that could happen, though, he'd had to face down the mess left behind.

Splinters had littered the floor, scraps of faded cloth drifted like tumbleweeds in the corners, and the odd chair leg or rusted bracket — too battered even for the QTM — clung to the edges of the room. For a while, the Mystical Menagerie looked more like a demolition site than a future shop.

At least he hadn't been alone. Jeremiah glanced across the polished floor to where his trio of high-tech autobrooms buzzed through the last of their rounds. Uno and Dos swept up stubborn dust, their enchanted bristles flickering with runes. At the same time, Tres glided behind, polishing the hardwood until it shone. The autobrooms had been a splurge — he'd almost cut them from the list when trying to save marks — but now, watching them dart and pivot with cheerful purpose, Jeremiah knew he'd made the right call.

Far more than simple brooms, these magitech wonders dusted shelves, mopped corners, wiped down windows, and even dumped out the bins — without so much as a sigh of complaint. He'd caught their onboard AI straightening toppled books, and once, delicately retrieving a stray treat Billy had flung out of his bowl. Naming them Uno, Dos, and Tres had started as a joke, but the brooms not only responded, they each seemed to develop quirks of their own. Uno hummed as it worked. Dos twirled before tackling a particularly dirty patch. Tres, the "old soul," preferred to finish every task with a meticulous final sweep.

Like with the QTM, the actual placing of items hadn't taken nearly as long as the cleaning. Despite Jeremiah having started over three times to rearrange things and try different configurations. It was simply a matter of selecting the item from his purchase catalog, placing their hologram where he wanted the item, and in a flash of light, it would appear fully assembled. The System even let him 'recall' items to the catalog, letting him move the item without having to do it the hard way.

Jeremiah appreciated that, because his new grooming table looked extremely heavy, and called for so much space, he had to section off the entire southeastern corner of the shop to fit it.

The System did claim there was a small fee for using the feature after the first twenty-four hours after purchasing any particular item. But that was just more motivation to make sure he set things up how he liked the first time.

Jeremiah stepped back, letting his gaze roam slowly across the transformed space.

Where once battered furniture and forgotten clutter had dominated, the Mystical Menagerie now breathed with a subtle magic and deliberate care. Bright moonlight spilled through the tall front windows, warming polished pine shelving that stretched in neat rows along the northeast wall — each shelf modular, sturdy, and set at varying heights to hold everything from glossy pet care guides to enchanted habitat modules. Here and there, small floating shelves hovered, each cradling an air plant or sturdy teapot, adding a whimsical note above the practical displays.

In the northwestern café corner, cozy armchairs in deep forest green gathered around small, circular tables — each table topped with a simple but elegant wooden surface and supported by black iron legs. The chairs invited customers to linger, read, or simply sip a cup of something warm.

Against the café's northeastern wall, a robust glass pastry display gleamed atop a matching wooden counter, ready to tempt with fresh-baked goods. Nearby, a set of ceramic mugs glazed in earthy blues and greens caught the natural light that filtered in from the shop's enclosed courtyard. The display was empty for now, but Jeremiah already knew exactly where to order a supply.

Along the north side, a pair of modular wooden bookshelves divided the space, doubling as resting nooks for small creatures or quiet retreats for customers who craved a bit of solitude.

The air carried the faint scent of the enchanted air freshener stone mounted above the door—a crisp, clean aroma with hints of citrus and spring grass. While the hardwood floors were polished to a soft shine by Tres's meticulous care. Soft, golden light radiated from modern, adjustable floor lamps positioned near each reading nook, their glow gentle on the eyes, perfect for curling up with a book or simply watching the world drift by.

The center of the shop was open and inviting, save for the front counter. It sat in the corner where both the north and east sections of the shop met, directly opposite the entrance. Made from heavy, polished wood, it looked sturdy and capable of handling a beating if needed, and from there he could easily observe either side of the Mystical Menagerie. Behind it, the large central window looked out into the courtyard, where you could see the giant tree at its center. On top of the front counter sat his fancy new register.

Near the front counter, the Quantum Teller Machine stood — sleek, crystalline, and quietly humming, its presence both reassuring and subtly powerful.

A simple chalkboard menu hung above the window, its surface wiped clean and waiting for Jeremiah's first hand-written announcement.

And then there was the southeastern store corner. Three rows of solid-looking shelves dominated the space. While they were bare now, Jeremiah could already imagine them filled with various tools, toys, and goods for every type of discerning beast caretaker.

The MindMark display tags were already in place, ready to whisper prices to curious minds in whatever language they preferred. On the northern side of the store corner, Jeremiah had set up smaller display areas for more expensive or specialized items. While the wall facing the courtyard was lined with the various beast enclosers he had bought. Most of them were basic stackable crates that could be easily cleaned and modified to their occupants' preferences. Jeremiah hoped to eventually figure out a way to open the crates from the courtyard side of the wall to let the more active creatures get some exercise from time to time.

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Sarah's shelter had a similar setup before, and it had been rather popular with both animals and workers.

The entire southeastern corner of the store was the domain of the Gentlebond's Morphic Grooming Table. It gleamed with promise, surrounded by an array of premium brushes, enchanted shampoos, and storage bins tucked neatly within arm's reach. The station's design was both high-tech and inviting, its softly glowing runes promising safety and comfort for even the most nervous beast.

It wasn't the biggest or flashiest shop in Nexus. But as Jeremiah took it all in, he felt a quiet pride settle deep in his chest.

Are you watching, Sarah? He quietly asked the void.

Jeremiah grinned as Uno and Dos zipped past, chasing a dust bunny into the corner. At that moment, with his shop ready and the promise of the future bright in the morning sun, he knew this was only the beginning.

But, for tonight at least, it was time to head home. Jeremiah lifted Billy's bowl, collected his things, and headed for the door.

Jeremiah paused at the shop's threshold, keys in hand, and looked back at the gleaming, freshly arranged Mystical Menagerie one last time. The moonlight caught the rows of polished shelves and the sleek lines of the QTM, bathing everything in a gentle, silvery glow.

He turned to where the autobrooms were lined up by the counter, their bristles twitching with faint, anticipatory energy.

"Alright, you three," Jeremiah called, fighting a tired grin, "store's in your hands tonight. Try not to unionize while I'm gone."

Uno's rune-lit bristles snapped to attention. Dos did a little twirl, ending in a sharp, mechanical salute. Even Tres, slow and dignified, angled forward with a deep, measured bow. Jeremiah snorted and shook his head. Billy waved at the three autobrooms from inside his bowl.

He flicked off the main lights, leaving only the enchanted lamps on night glow, and slipped out the front door. The lock clicked shut behind him, a reassuring thunk of safety. For a moment, he lingered on the step, breathing in the crisp air, the faint scent of citrus and spring grass drifting after him as the air freshener stone did its work.

He drew his coat tighter around his shoulders and set out for home.

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By now, night had settled completely over Market Street, draping the world in a shifting patchwork of shadow and pale streetlamp glow. The daytime bustle had faded to memory; storefronts sat dark, their enchanted signs reduced to faint, flickering embers. Only the deep pulse of distant music and the occasional flicker of movement at the end of the block reminded Jeremiah that Nexus never truly slept.

His footsteps echoed softly on the worn stone as he threaded his way through the narrow alleys and backstreets of the Crossroads. Every step felt a little heavier than the last — or maybe that was just Billy's bowl, hanging from his aching hand. Bone-tired and running mostly on stubbornness, Jeremiah focused on the path ahead, counting off blocks to his building like a mantra.

As he ducked beneath a low archway and the last halo of streetlight faded behind him, a prickling unease crept up the back of his neck.

He slowed, listening. For a breath, there was only the soft rhythm of his own boots and the faint whisper of wind scraping along rusted gutter pipes.

Then — a sound, just at the edge of hearing. The scrape of feet on stone.

Jeremiah's spine went taut. At first, he tried to convince himself it was just nerves after a long, exhausting day. The Outskirts had never been safe, especially at night, but he'd let his excitement about the shop dull his caution. Now, he regretted staying out so late.

He forced himself to keep moving, resisting the urge to glance back, his posture deliberately loose. But every instinct screamed that something was wrong. The footsteps behind him weren't heavy with desperation or quick, like someone trying to overtake him. They moved softly, each step unhurried and precise — almost as if they were studying him.

Jeremiah's fingers twitched toward the pocket where he kept the switchblade Mero had given him. Jeremiah would have preferred not to use the dangerous thing, but it was the only weapon he had. Another mistake. He kept his stride steady, forcing himself not to look back, even as his heartbeat hammered in his ears. He listened — truly listened — tuning out the wind and the distant city noise.

Yet the longer he focused, the more something felt… wrong.

There was no shuffle of clothing, no hurried breath, not even the telltale clink of a weapon. Just the faint, rhythmic thump of footsteps, and an occasional click echoing off the close-set walls. If Jeremiah didn't know any better, it sounded almost like… claws. Definitely something that did not belong to any mugger or street tough.

He inhaled shallowly, veering down a narrower alleyway that snaked behind a line of shuttered stalls. Here, the dark pressed in closer, the air tinged with the scent of old brick and wet stone. The footsteps followed, always the same careful distance behind. Not charging. Not breaking off. Just tracking him, relentless as a shadow.

Jeremiah's gaze flicked to the shifting gloom, searching for any sign of what stalked him. For a moment, he glimpsed movement — low and swift, a ripple of too many limbs skittering just out of the lamplight's reach.

A cold shiver ran the length of his spine. Whatever was out there wasn't after his wallet. It was studying him — testing his nerves.

He forced his expression to remain neutral, refusing to betray the fear prickling beneath his skin. Tightening his grip on his bag, Jeremiah slipped his free hand into his coat, fingertips brushing the familiar contours of his knife. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his pace steady, steps never faltering.

He ducked into a narrow side alley he recognized.

Then, without warning, he broke into a sprint.

As soon as he did, his pursuer gave chase, a low, feline growl rumbling through the night.

Jeremiah rounded another corner and spotted what he was looking for: the collapsed wall of a building, its rubble forming a blind pocket in the shadows. Mani had pointed it out the other day, warning him about the spot — a favorite haunt for those who preyed on the unwary.

He slid into the blind spot, set Billy's bowl carefully on the ground, and spun back toward the corner, eyes fixed and unblinking.

Barely a breath passed before a knee-high shadow darted around the bend.

Now!

Jeremiah lashed out with a swift kick, catching the shadow squarely in its center. His leg met rough fur and the prickle of something sharp, and the creature let out a yowl — a sound that brought to mind the angry bobcat he'd once treated during his clinicals. A heartbeat later, the thing went flying, tumbling through the air before crashing into a heap of rusted garbage cans.

He yanked the switchblade from his pocket and snapped it open, faesteel gleaming eerie under the alley's faint light.

Across the alley, the pile of cans rattled. The shadow pulled itself upright, and two luminous green eyes pinned him in place — burning with anger so sharp it felt like a physical blow. The creature let out a low, hissing growl.

Almost without thinking, Jeremiah triggered a [System Scan].

A glowing screen slid into view. His blood ran cold.

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Tangled Lynx

Grade: G - 7

Mental - (G): 1.5

Physical - (G): 3.5

Supernatural - (G): 1

Rarity: Uncommon

Pedigree: ★★★

Ecology: Forest Stalker. Green Shadow. Silent Death. The Tangled Lynx has been called many things through the ages, but one thing has always remained true; these silent killers are seldom seen before it's too late. Few creatures put hunters of old quiet on edge like the Tangled Lynx.

Its Physical abilities may lean more toward speed and stealth than strength or durability, but its above-average intelligence for a Beast, coupled with a slight affinity for plant magic, allows it to regularly ambush and kill creatures many times its own power. Keep your eyes locked on this creature; if you lose sight of it in the forest tangle, you may never leave its woody domain.

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