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[break][break]E-Rank Mission[break][break]
Gleeford looked shadily back and forth, confirming that no one he knew was in the area. He wouldn't dare be caught doing the deplorable thing that was about to transpire. He would experience endless shame and ridicule if his companions witnessed him. He was about to do... manual labor.

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"Agahhhh!" Gripping the sides of his head, and twisting in a dramatic fashion, Gleeford recoiled in apparent agony. He had just thought about all the labor he would have to do. Granted, it was scummy labor. In fact, it was pretty grim. But it was labor nonetheless. Backbreaking, sweaty, grunty normal person work. It made him a little queasy to consider it. Glancing to the side, he took notice of the blue prompt. It was a mission.

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"Phew, it's just a load of wood, come on bub. You got this... It'll just take a bit of time." Slapping his cheeks, Gleeford gripped the handle of a raggedy old shovel that was leaning against a stone pillar. Just to the left was an archaic metal gate, indicating the age of the structure. Weirdly, in contrast to the towering buildings in the vicinity, this plot was relatively tame. Behind this gate was a plot of flat land, a few trees, and a series... of headstones. This was a graveyard tucked quaintly between the skyscrapers. It had a calm regal feel that was very peculiar as the surrounding structures were wild and reclaimed by fauna.

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"Hnnnk." With a grunt, Gleeford delivered a vertical swing with the shovel. He brought the head down on a rusted padlock that adorned the gate. This place was clearly untended as the grass was waist height, and the gate had completely rusted over. With a wrist shocking clang, the lock crumbled into bits, and fell to the ground. Kicking forward, the gate... hardly budged. It was too old and weathered to be abruptly knocked open. Instead, it groaned slowly as it rotated inward at a snails pace. This did not bode well for his 'brief' workload.

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There was no way in hell that Gleeford was going to do a hard day's work. At least, not willingly. He had seen the numerous groups skulking about collecting junk, but had never paid it any heed. Now that he knew there was some lame townie looking to buy the scrap? He couldn't wait to deprive one of these losers of their blood sweat and tears. They were just supposed to bring back scrap, and it wasn't specific how they had to come about it. That left plenty of room for very willful interpretation.

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"Eh? Her?" Gleeford squinted his eyes at the target. She was quite tall, which may have been imposing, but he couldn't see any weapon. That didn't mean it was a safe target, but that was definitely a check mark in the right direction. Unfortunately, he couldn't see any of her group. That left him uneasy. It wouldn't do to jump a target right as their peers returned. That would not end well, especially if they ended up being stronger than him. Gleeford had learned a lot from his conversation with Rojin. He had to be careful because you never know what kind of fucked up abilities someone will whip out.

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"Seems like a good sized haul for us. It's not so much they'll risk their life for it, but it's enough to meet our quota. Keep an eye out, and pretend to be working. Over there, that fence is all tangled and stuck in those bushes. Let's just pretend to be dragging that scrap out, and when we see a chance, we can pounce." Gleeford was rubbing his palms together as he spoke. The hooligan had no qualms acting cartoonishly evil. Plus, it wasn't exactly warm. The palm rubbing was fun and practical, as the friction helped ward off the brisk air.

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"You may have a knack for this. You instantly found someone who was almost as much of a chump as you. Must be loser instinct." Gleeford would give the runt a slap on the back, before turning and heading towards the mangled fence. It was obvious why the fence had been left there. It would be a ton of work to actually dislodge it, and because it was so thin, there wasn't actually that much metal. Good thing they were just pretending in order to ambush their target.

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"Pffft, of course they'd be useful! I'm a charmer, a swindler, a regular gang expert. As in, I've been in all kinds of organizations full of useful people. Just got'ta finesse them, keep them working hard and all that. I can get tons of useful people, I even know a few from when I first woke up." Reaching up, Gleeford would brush his nose and don a cocky grin. His smile deepened further when he heard Rojin 'joke' about taking him out and whatnot.

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"Uhuh, destroy me, kekeke. You're a pretty funny guy. They sound annoying though. They're already snooping on me? I aven't even done anything yet, and they're already on their toes? That's a weird level of hypervigilance. Honestly, that kind'a makes me mad. That's like... Oppressive regime kind'a shit. Mmmm...." Gleeford would start to scowl and peer over his shoulder behind them. He didn't see anything particularly out of the ordinary. No obvious people watching them, at the very least. That made him more on edge though. If someone was sneaking in the shadows keeping tabs on random strangers, that was unnerving. His mood clearly soured, Gleeford hushed up while listening to the brief anecdote about parties and the system in general.

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This bit was interesting. He vaguely knew the abilities and features of the small group he had done the tutorial with. They weren't explicitly explained to him, but he got the gist of it through their actions. None of it seemed to manipulate the system, so the old man's opinion seemed fairly accurate. The system probably did try to defend against tampering. That didn't mean it was impossible, but it meant his short term plans may not play out. He'd still see if he could figure any methods out, but it wasn't a focus.

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"Hot dang, people got classified as monsters? The system can do that? Don't monsters give rewards and drop..." Gleeford's dour mood was alleviated as his brain juices began to flow. He couldn't access people's inventories or mess with their parties. At least, not for now. But if he could trick people into situations where the system turned them into monsters, what then? Would they drop loot? Their loot? His ability would apply to them as well, if they were 'monsters'.

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"You think it's possible to get the system to like, change people? Or, get people to do something that makes the system reclassify them. That might just be the method to get at their stuff. That's hell'a smart. Was that what you were trying to convey to me?" Gleeford looked towards the old man in bewilderment. If this was the old man's plan, Gleeford's recently acquired respect for the guy would deepen.

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"What in the heck? Why you whispering this creepy shit to me? I was just makin friendly, kid, and now you're moaning about meteors and obby... lisks. Whatever the heck that is." Grinding his fist in the youth's head, Gleeford would give the lad a hefty noogie. He wasn't pushing that hard, and was mostly aiming to dishevel the hair in a humorous manner. This was cut short.

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"..." What had transpired caused Gleeford to go wide eyed. He seemed completely off guard, his mouth agape. Taking a few steps forward, Gleeford gave a hefty shove as he released the sad sap he had been accosting. Another target had grabbed his attention, so the runt could be left alone for the moment. It took a moment of rummaging through his thoughts to put the series of events in order. The weird lady had done some silly shuffle with her umbrella out, and then nearly got smashed by a big lump attached to a drain pipe. Stepping forward, Gleeford would leer down at the fallen 'lump'.

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"Bahahahaha! What an idiot!" The moment he realized it was a person, Gleeford couldn't help himself. He leaned back while pointing at the young woman, chest heaving between laughs. His ill-natured sense of humor was on full display, and didn't pause as the girl backed up against the building in a defensive manner. Even when he didn't find it funny anymore, Gleeford continued to cackle to really rub salt into the wound. It wasn't in him to show any semblance of concern, and the opportunity to bully was too good to miss. This even took priority over his sense of self-preservation. The racket he was making was quite loud.

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"Wait." Whipping his head to the side in a dramatic fashion, Gleeford turned his attention towards the sophisticated woman who had done umbrella maneuvers. He was clearly puzzled, and showed a slight sign of agitation. She had clearly just spoken to him, but something was confusing about it.

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"How in'tha heck did I understand what you just said?" Gleeford puffed out his chest and approached the woman in a huff. He was not... a particularly educated man, and he definitely didn't know any French. How had he understood her greeting? He clearly heard a different language, but knew what it meant. That didn't seem right.

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Gleeford was getting a little winded, something he was ashamed to admit. It wasn't like he was physically unwell, or out of shape. He had constantly run from people and he ate on a broke diet. He was slim, and had decent cardio. But why was this old man hard to keep up with? The man was walking with a staff. Was it the talking? Could that be winding Gleeford? But he shouted quite frequently, and had the lung capacity to drone on for hours. Then he noticed something weird. He was power walking along side the old man. His feet weren't quite jogging, but he did have to press to keep pace. Meanwhile, the older fella didn't seem fussed at all. How fit.

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"I can one hundred percent gather people. I am super likable, practically..." Gleeford had to mull this over for a moment. He was going to say he has practically zero enemies. That is probably true at this point in time, considering an indeterminate amount of time had passed since the world became this way. Surely a lot of the rabble he associated with had died, or were half a continent away. With the world the way it was, their conflicts were likely the last of their worries as well. He would be technically correct in saying he didn't have any enemies.

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"Practically no enemies. Yep. Easy to believe seeing as I'm so suave. Just have that effect on folks, I suppose. Hell, I came to rob you and you haven't chased me off yet. That's at least a pseudo-testament to my likability." Gleeford was pumping out his chest despite his heavy breathing. It was honestly making it harder to catch his breath, but he wanted to show off his bravado.

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"You're right though. I need'ta make sure my lads are caught up. Properly trained and 'leveled' or whatever. That stuff seems important for the new blood I'll hire. I'm set, of course. No shot I attempted to rob you while low...." Bluff immediately called. The old fella's next spiel directly addressed Gleeford's level and accurately labeled as level one. He did take this bit seriously, but most handwaved it because something more interesting came up. The mentions of parties and the various utilities of them, and specifically the fact the window could be completely hidden, were very interesting.

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"Hold up. Hooooold up. Yeah, I gotta get stronger, yadda yadda. But did you say I can have secret chats with with people, annnd know where they are? That's likely, a better version of a phone. And anyone can do this? You can just form parties with people?" The gears in his head were turning as Gleeford imagined the plethora of ways this could be used for the wrong purposes. Eventually another thought popped into his head as they continued to walk.

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"You said, and I'm paraphrasing here, levels are super important and classes can do all kinds of weird stuff that I won't be able to predict? Do you think it's possible for me to like... Get a way to disrupt these parties? I don't know how any of this works, really, but a way to disrupt communications is always super valuable. And would solve a lot of these issues you're mentioning." Gleeford was mentally rubbing his hands in the most villainous of ways. He was already dead set on finding a way to betray people's security in their own parties. It seemed like a pretty smart way to utilize the functionality of the new world.

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"That's....." Gleeford, the impulsive and loud man that he was, couldn't find it in him to interrupt as he listened. The mention of being physically weak transitioned into a point that Gleeford honestly hadn't considered. He didn't know much about stats, and their implications on the current world. Hell, speed was a thing in the real world as well, but so were guns. Guns always made it easier to deal with the physical types, at least in his experience. But facing down someone quick in a hand to hand fight when he didn't have a particular advantage? There was no limit to his short-sightedness.

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"That's...." About to respond once more, Gleeford found himself confronting another sobering statement. The hairs on his neck were standing on end, and perspiration made his body run cold. The notion of a sniper or an unseen stranger made his skin crawl. This wasn't something he had ever dealt with. The thing about petty crimes is they often had petty responses. Beatings and jail time. His experiences never dictated a sniper, and an unseen threat? Wasn't even a possibility. It wasn't just short-sightedness anymore, it was ignorance.

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"That's..." Gleeford recoiled at the man's step. Perhaps it was age and the eloquence of his words, but this stranger was so imposing that Gleeford was struggling to catch his breath. If snipers and sneaks were scary, then what about the esoteric stuff the man was delving into now? You could reasonably prepare for an assassin, and take precautions. How do you confront the mystic and surreal? Luck? Gleeford was aware of the Mag stat, but that was just a tiny notation on his status window. What was magic? Sleight of hand? Gary Plotter? Somewhere in-between? This had turned from a mugging to a lesson in life.

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"That's.." As if to amp up the tension, the old man's countenance warped into that grin. Those eyes that looked through Gleeford made his blood stop. The way a brief conversation had Gleeford fearing for his life and acknowledging his faults was incredible. Few situations had ever made him feel like this, and it was never at the hands of a teacher. Almost always, what taught rough types like Gleeford such a deep lesson were the bloodied hands of an older, more grizzled criminal. This didn't bode well for his safety at the moment, at least, until he saw that status screen.

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"So fucking cool. Damn man, you had me sweatin. The way you monologued right into the depths of my soul, that's a hell of a talent. Like, what the hell, man? Where'd you come up with all that info, though? It seems like you know what you're talking about with all of them variables. Definitely have experience. Were you like a mob boss? Some old Yakuza or Triad type? A CEO of some nasty fortune 500 company? That'd be the worst of the lot." Gleeford no longer felt tense, his blind trust in a random number hampering his judgement.

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"Dang though, you have a stick and a bathrobe. Not about to rob that, kekeke... Instead, I want some of that info. You should hook me up with some of this new age lore, and maybe point out some loaded people I can try to tackle." The fool was grinning as if he was talking with a friend. All it took was feeling superior to instantly loosen him up. He actually liked the impression the old man gave off. If he was actually weak, he had the makings of a legendary swindler.

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