Michael flipped over the last page of the stack of papers.

He was sitting on the terrace of one of the most desired restaurants in the city of Al-fah-bin.  Not the best restaurant, but one of the best. More because of it's view. You could see most of the city from up here with it's block like buildings. None of them were over four stories tall by law. nothing could be taller than the palace of the king.

"Fuckin' nobels."

The city was built with an Arabian aesthetic. It clearly was influenced by a most strange story. It had elves and dwarves and more than a few furry races. The way things were set up were to have it center around a single character, most likely a woman who would find herself the center of attention and sexual desire. Given the way slaves were treated in the city, it was obvious this story was beyond R. It was full on NC-17. From a moralistic point of view, this place was horrific by Michael's standards. However, he was certain the main character would love every minute of it.

"I'm sure it will attract some self-centered twat." He muttered to himself. He flipped through the stack of papers at random, "How the hell did you wind up in this world?" He was looking through the stack of papers he managed to buy from a book seller he found through disreputable means. Those are always the best book sellers, "A world that became frozen due to some sort of calamity that befell it's primary. The center of civilization moved to Hawaii. How very strange."

What was strangest of all was how accurate the information was about memetic creatures. He started rereading the part about Jennifer, "Were you real? Was the Quonset manager a memetic life-form, or an after image? Or maybe you started out a transmigrator like me." He heard someone clear his throat. It was one of the slave slash serving girls. She looked around nervously, most likely she didn't want to hear what he was saying. It never was good to overhear what nobles spoke about.

Michael smiled and forgot the body he was occupying was someone important, "Sorry, my dear. Forgot you were there." He glanced into the distance and noticed a bit of a commotion was forming at a plaza, "Huh. Took them long enough." He turned back to the girl, "Come closer." The girl approached, her head down. he reached up, grabbed the collar around her neck, and casually ripped it open. She stared at him with wide eyes and utter terror.

He put a finger on her lips, "They are coming to kill me and everyone who is in the building. You are already dead and those condemned to death have nothing to lose by breaking the law." He held out a hand and smoothed away the tattoo under her eye like it was nothing more than water, "I'll been waiting for them. I think this body's brother is coming to finish the job. I don't really have a problem with his brother, but I did borrow his body, so I think I should repay him by killing that assassinating bastard." The girl remained frozen in fear as Michael reached up and fluffed her hair, causing it to shimmer and take on a golden shimmer.

Finally, as if dotting the I's, he gently tapped her on her eyebrows, causing her eyes to shift to a pale blue, "I want you to do something for me." He  grabbed a satchel and scooped up the papers into the bag. He cinched it closed the offered it to her, "This bag has a great deal of valuables in it. Go start a new life somewhere far from this city. Don't contact anyone else you once knew, it won't be safe. After they are done sifting through the rubble, they're going to want to find your body." She took the satchel with trembling arms, "What do you want me to do?"

He raised a finger, "I want you to keep an ear out for rumors of people from other worlds. Specifically from any world called Earth. Ask them how the cherry blossoms are blooming this time of year in Tokyo. If they act like they know what Tokyo is, tell them they aren't alone. Tell them some of us are trying to make our way back. Then give them the papers in this bag, and help them as best you can. That's what I ask for saving your life." He paused then snapped his fingers. Her clothing rippled and morphed until it formed a humble hijab. It would be quite easy for her to blend into a crowd. He then thought for a second before he reached around his neck to pull out a jeweled pendant. He looked at the jewel . It was a symbol of authority. Possessing it showed he was royalty in this desert nation. He paused to look at his wizened and warped hands. He thought about how old they were and the callous built up upon them. How many battles had this old man fought, only to be betrayed by the one he trusted most?

"Poorly written, hackney pulp trash."

The girl blinked, "What?" He looked up, "Never mind." He then handed over the pendent, "If anyone finally corners you, just hand them that and tell them your father gave it to you. I know it's not true, but if you ever get in a pickle, pretending to be the daughter of royalty might get you out of trouble." He thought for a second, "Oh. Right." He reached up to grab the back of her neck and poured a great deal of his mana into the girl. It wouldn't help her now, but over time she would assimilate it, "That should be enough." She staggered from the sensation, but recovered quickly.

She stared at him, "Wh-why?"

He shrugged, "Because I am a transmigrator. I jump from world to world, trying to find my way home. I'm done with this place and I'm moving on. That means I am about to die. I can't take it with me, so..." He gestured to her, "Least I can do is help someone on my way out." He looked back out over the city. The troops were getting organized, "They'll be here soon. I suggest you go. Walk right out the front, turn left and don't look back. Head for the docks. I suggest you take a boat heading north." He smiled softly, "Hurry. They'll be here soon."

The girl looked at the bag in her hands, then up at the strange man. She almost changed her mind and cried out for the guards, but decided otherwise. She turned and headed back inside, down the stairs, and very shortly Michael could see her rush out the front doors and turn left, as instructed. He watched until she was finally was out of sight, just in time to avoid a patrol as they blocked off the side alleyway. Michael settled back and thought for a second. He reached out to pick up a bell and ring it.

Another servant arrived. He seemed puzzled the slave girl wasn't present. Micheal looked up and smiled, "I sent her on an errand. She'll be back soon. While I'm waiting, I realized I have just enough time for another dish of that stuff you recommended." He winked, "I'll have one more" The man bowed and backed out of the room while Michael picked up a glass of wine and sipped, "How many more times until I can finally see my homeland with my own two eyes?"

Michael watched the guards come down the main road straight for where he was sitting. An old man who was surprisingly spry for his apparent age was leading the way. Michael suddenly felt inspired. He reached down and opened the long box under his chair, then pulled out a rifle that had taken him several weeks to have created, "You know what?" He stood up, shouldering the weapon as he walked to the railing. Aiming down the sights, he knelt as he lined up the shot.

"I was never big on procrastination."