After a particularly intense mental episode, Wren slowly opened his eyes to discover that wonderful feeling of weightlessness wasn't relief but literal 'Don't go into the light, Carol-Ann' abyss bobbing with no floaties.

“Did I have an aneurysm?” Wren muttered.

“Stow the existential freak out and pay very close attention to what I'm about to tell you. We don't have much time and the 'entities' that are responsible for you being here would likely send you packing to oblivion or the afterlife for convenience's sake if they found out I'm puppet operating your SYSTEM account. Be mad about that on your own time,” wheezed a rusty, rarely used sounding voice.

His current situation not being held into account, the spitfire info dump of the slightly creepy voice was keeping his mental gears grinding too hard to form any kind of interjection. Not one to step in front of moving trains, Wren decided to pour what functioning bits of his mental power he could muster on retaining Rusty's words.

“There are three missions in reception. Until the first mission is over, don't speak unless spoken to in a language you understand and don't ask the Sponsor anything, ever. The second mission will be a trial by fire, kill the fugly kinda thing. Put as many people between you and it as possible until it dies or at least ten other participants do. The third mission is just a point buy tutorial so if you are still breathing you're gold.”

Rusy took a labored, ragged breath and continued, “ Call me Hiidan, by the way. And just so you are aware, there are many components missing from your interface. I should have that patched up to a functional level by the time you reach your host world. After reading over your rap sheet I took the liberty of laying out a highlighted yellow brick road to the best class fit for you based off of power versus what you can use without accidentally killing yourself along with some customization that sync well with it...”

Verbally limping like a winded track runner at home stretch, Hiidan managed to squeeze out, “but don't buy the grayed out sprites or options between the highlighted ones, they'll ax the hidden class and and give you the more mundane version instead. More options are still loading. And last but not least I gave you Second Cha-”

The rest of whatever it was Hiidan was going to say was swept away by a torrential pull that started somewhere deep inside Wren, in a place he didn't even know existed, towards a galaxy whirlpool of light, color and sound. After getting the stale air knocked out of his lungs and taking in a mouthful of fresh but oddly sterile air he came to the sudden realization that, wherever he was before, he had been slowly suffocating. His slow and steady breathing, however, were doing nothing for his rapidly rising heart-rate.

“Welcome, chosen. I am your sponsor Quetzlcoatl, you may call me Quetz if it pleases you. You honored few have-”

Wren started half listening to the floating rainbow snake's empty platitudes and desperately pushed down the gibbering mad chuckles trying to push their way past his throat so that he could try to assess his environment and the people therein. He noticed that aside from a couple of basically functioning human beings, the rest appeared to be a pot-luck collection of the destitute, depraved and full out, Third-World-Country starving.

Honored few indeed, but who am I to Judge?

Alright, so let's untangle the mess from earlier...I agreed to some kind of alien abduction then I was temporarily abducted from the first aliens by another one who is hacking their shit!? The hacker has screwed me over in the process but spilling the beans won't help because my original abductors will just kill me off. The worst part is that there is some kind of user interface that I can use to help me but because a hacker has messed with mine, it isn't even fully functional. Just great!

So for the first mission, Hiidan said I shouldn't talk to people I can't understand. So that means people I can understand is okay? Fine there's gotta be some English speakers here somewhere. Safety in numbers and all that, especially since my wonderful hacker friend didn't even tell me what the first mission is!

Keeping a wary eye and ear trained on the hypnotically weaving monster, just in case it decided to breathe fire or go anaconda on someone, Wren attempted to find someone he could remotely identify with when he noticed that there was a frizzy headed, Orphan Annie type nobly trying to help an ivy-league, tall, dark and injured guy up onto his good foot. Both of them looking even more horribly out of place here than himself. What ended up drawing him to them, despite not wanting to stand out, was the unmistakable sound of whispered English.

Sidling up to them, using the excuse of aiding the young man, Wren managed to inch them to the edge of the crowd with the excuse of avoiding trampling feet.

“Thanks, Sir. Do you happen to know what's going on?” asked the girl, in a thick Irish accent.

“Probably about as much as you. And please, call me Wren. I know I probably look ancient to you since I'm at the ripe old age of Thrityse...er...two but please spare my feelings.” Wren dramatically clutched his chest with his free hand while plastering an exaggeratedly pained expression on his face, managing to illicit a small giggle from the worried looking girl.

In a disgustingly admirable attempt at normalcy belied by the faint trembling and cold sweats the young man says, “ The name's Troy, old sport. You don't see any way I can get a bit of water do you?”

Who the hell says old sport? Is this the Great Gatsby!? That being said there's gotta be someone around here with some water. If I'm going to throw my lot in with this group the last thing I need is for this young man to pass out. He's hard enough to move awake.

The three of them scan the crowd before Wren notices a slightly disgruntled looking older lady with a Western Europe, rural village kind of vibe, minus the stained and tattered cargo Shorts, with two water bottles poking out the top of a pocket.

Bingo. I might not want to risk trying to talk to her just in case she doesn't speak English but I got a few bucks and I'm pretty sure most of the world knows the U.S. Dollar. Maybe I can do a fast switch.

Shifting Troy's weight over to the girl, Wren dug a five dollar bill out of his wallet and walked over to the woman. As soon as he got her attention he handed the five bucks over to her. Slightly stunned at the intrusion and still not willing to miss anything the flying monster is saying, she doesn't even register that she's a water bottle short till Wren is nearly back to his two new acquaintances. “And there ya go. No promises on the quality.”

Basking in the glow of gratitude, Wren turned back to Quetz as the first mission details are being given. “-will be fairly straightforward. Simply discover the one among you that does not belong. Point at them and declare them to be the 'Spy' and if you are correct you will earn some points you can use later to improve yourselves. Failure to make a choice within the time limit will result in elimination.”

As his mouth went dry, Wren snatched the water bottle out of Troy's hand and took a deep swig, vaguely registering the sulfur aftertaste of well water, before handing it back.

Well fuck. Are they already on to me!?

Apparently it was his turn to break out in a cold sweat.