Lazy day, Lazy night

The day was lazy. The sun was blazing. And the humidity had reached an all-time high, clinging to your skin like subtle microscopic leeches. In this hell of a weather, a world-weary Jennka Cockehead wiped at her forehead and awaited the good news at last.

“Damn heat…”

Jennka (better known as Jenn among her peers, or peer really, because she had no friends) raised a hose to her mouth. She let it spit water. It was weird. Tasted like rubber. But it was water, and with a self-satisfied sigh, Jenn wiped at her lip, watching an old lady approach.

Salvation would come soon.

With a raise of the hand. With a subtle turn of the wrist. Jenn’s reward would come.

And come it did.

“Here's your ten dollars.”

She looked at the wad of cash, frowned, and raised a brow.

“Ten fuckin’ dollars?! For working my ass off in this heat for this long?!”

“Yeah, it's called capitalism. And you get paid according to what you output.”

Jenn let go of the hose. “That's bullshit. B to the S. I powerwashed your driveway. I watered your plants. I gave your damn lawn the equivalent of a Brazilian wax, and this is what I get?“

She shrugged. “Looks like a normal wax to me.”

“Yeah—cause your carpet is an overgrown snow jungle, and you wouldn't know shit about self-care!”

“Self-care?” said the old lady. “Big words from a degenerate such as yourself.”

“Oh yeah, what makes you say that?”

The old woman lifted a finger. A thin strand of bone pointed at Jenn’s phone. “I-I saw you! Looking at these deviant things while you were supposed to be working! T-that pornography!”

“That wasn't porn!”

“It was!”

“No! It was NSFW binaural ASMR, you uncultured fossil! And there's nothing wrong with listening to it. It's called having a young and healthy libido and it's what people with a ‘future’ have!” Jenn turned on her heel and started back towards her home. “And in case it wasn't obvious enough, I don't want your money!” She turned back. “And your old grandma diseases!”

Jenne went straight to her bicycle and began to cycle through the streets of New Yorkyo. The city, part of the world designated FF-8277261 (FF for Fanfiction and the following number as the chronological entry), was a strange sight indeed.

Created by an American teenager obsessed with anime, New Yorkyo was described as a fusion between New York and Tokyo. This involved the inexplicable presence of Art Deco architecture, a Statue of Liberty holding a katana, and people in Gothic Lolita wear patrolling the streets (something that was never the norm in either city, but was in the imagination of Jessica Thornton, who had wrote ‘Ninja Chronicles: Tales of Ayato Thornton: Daughter of Tadakatsu Ayato.’)

Despite, or maybe because of its many inaccuracies, New Yorkyo was considered a decent hotspot for tourism, with its many delicacies of Yakiburgers and Rocky Mountain Takoyakis, and its strange fusion of both cities' landscapes.

“Damn Grandma,” Jenn mumbled. “I've got another job waiting, you'll see. You need me more than I need you.”

Pedalling through a major park, Jenn arrived at her home. A shoddy, rundown RV. Its paint, which was once a fresh summer orange, now resembled the rust-streaked underside of a boat. There were strange holes all over its entrance, too, strange, bullet-sized holes. From time to time, the sagging hinges of the door would stop it from closing, and she would have to kick and lift it into a mock submission. This was, of course, before the next day, where the cycle would repeat itself once more, and the pain would continue.

Jenn picked up the newspaper at her door and entered, plopping on her leather sofa.

Soon enough, a can of beer was in one hand, and a remote was in the other. With a press, her small box of a TV turned on, and the scrolling began.

“Dreaming of your next cyberpunk adventure? Head down to Planet— “

She switched the channel.

“Love. Passion. Desire. If you find your life absent of these three things, try visiting La Passion. The world of the hit game ‘Stepping to my Step-Family’. Where—”

She switched again.

“In other words. Famous protagonist of ‘The Sword Saint Transference’, will be opening his world's borders, and hosting a tourna—”

She switched the channel. But this time, she switched back.

“Wouldn't you say such an event is a must go?” said a man on the screen. A handsome elf before an old, wooden desk.

“Of course,” replied the other newscaster. “Given the isolation of their world, and the popularity of its Origin. Participating in such an occasion is a once-in-a-decade experience.” She leaned in. “Rumour has it: The King of Indaria—The Sword Saint himself will be participating!”

The elf brushed back his hair. “Well, I'm not much of a fighter myself. But for those of a martial persuasion, I can't imagine a reason not to go. Can you?”

“I could be paying off my mortgage. Some of us work to feed our families.”

“What?”

The words went on and on. But Jenn zoned them out and stared in a state of absolute observation.

The Sword Saint Transference… She had heard about it before. Read it, even (five pages of it anyway).

Jenn clenched her fist, making little effort to hide her displeasure.

It was another isekai story. A proponent in an already saturated genre, that was further saturated by the all too common flood of stories with the same aesthetic.

In other words, it was mediocre. Boring. Devoid of the aesthetics she so adored.

And where Jenn was concerned, all who failed by her sense of aesthetics deserved to die.

Her path was decided. But how would she go by it?

Travel between worlds was expensive. And just a week ago, Jenn had spent half her savings to murder some dumbass.

So what would Jenn do?

She could take a loan, true. But the banks were well aware of her antics, and assaulting the last one who refused her didn't help.

Thinking was a difficult affair, and a thin bead of sweat formed on Jenn’s forehead. What to do. What to do.

WHAT TO DO?!

The last time Jenn had travelled on a shoestring budget, she had done so in the company of a Merchant Ship. Having hitched a ride and worked as a cargo agent for the better part of a month.

But that was long ago… Well, three months ago. But long enough to make her doubt her ability to do it again. And, what were the chances of a ship en route to the Kingdom of Indaria anyway?

She sighed and slumped into her sofa, taking another sip of her lukewarm beer.

All things considered, it was just your usual fantasy world. Belonging to one of the most popular IPs in recent memory. With a newly enacted edict of open borders and tourism. While advertising a martial tournament, nonetheless…

What profit could be made there?

Jenn jolted upright and scanned through her contact list at once. She scrolled down, read ‘pervert bear’, and clicked on his status.

‘Going to Indaria!’ it read. ‘Will be out of the world for a few days!’