Arthur Clark shivered in the frigid 5am air and frowned at the sight that awaited him. 

The door to the store he worked at, 2nd Hand Treasures, was swinging open and closed with a loud bang. What few people that were in the small plaza this early in the morning were staring at him with annoyed expressions. 

He wondered how long it’s been doing that. Someone broke into the store three years ago, though they stole nothing but a jacket. Ever since his boss, Derrick, started being fastidious about making sure he locked the store. 

About the only thing he was careful about, in Arthur’s opinion.

Before the door could slam again, he reached out and grabbed the handle. As he did, he noticed a sign tapping into the glass. With careful movements, he closed the door and gave it that extra shove, so it would stay in place. 

Derrick never listened when he told him it would be a problem once he’d seen the workman’s bill to get it fixed. 

Satisfied it wouldn’t fly open again, he looked at the note and sighed at the garish font.

Welcome customers!

Today we have a special deal for you!

In fact, it is: THE SPECIAL!

If you can solve this riddle, you can get a free TV!

What am I?

HINT: Tired, overworked, and jobless.

His first thought was that Derrick had finally made good on his threats and fired him. They’d been having that conversation since his second day of work, normally over something trivial. 

He’d complained to head office about it, but they never responded or even gave notice they’d received his messages. Not that their lack of response shocked him. Upper management was never the type to mingle with those lower down on the corporate totem pole. 

“Well, if that is how this is going to play out,” Arthur thought, as he turned around.

His mind was already envisioning burning the pea-green shirt that made up his uniform. He’d made it two steps when a powerful gust of wind started up. With haste, he grabbed his green baseball cap as it tried to fly away. 

The door behind him slammed open again. 

Arthur turned and stared at the door. Heads once again turned in his direction, their expression saying that if he didn’t do something soon, they’d start calling people. Which meant he had little chance of getting away scott-free. 

For a moment, he envisioned walking away to the nearest coffee shop and pretending he skipped work that day. Make the entire thing someone else’s problem. Now, at minimum, he’d have to find out if Derrick left the keys in his office so he could lock the door. 

Then he could go on a break, and he doubted anyone else would care. 

Arthur considered pulling the sign off the door, but then he saw the absurd amount of different tapes that Derrick used to put it up there. 

That wasn’t coming off without a pair of scissors and maybe a miniature flamethrower. 

Another sigh escaped his mouth before he stepped into the dark storefront, the door clicking as he pulled it closed behind him. 

***

His hand slapped blindly at the wall as he felt about for the light switch.

Two attempts later, and he found it, wincing as the lights flickered on overhead. Even with the fact that half of them didn’t work, they were each bright enough to make up for it. Another way Derrick found to be cheap. 

With the door now closed, he could smell the mildew and rot that permeated the store. Most of which came from the dilapidated shelving that cut the square room into several rows. 

Not that he noticed it much nowadays. Though that didn’t stop him from cracking a window when he could get away with it. As he moved towards the offices at the back of the store, his eyes ran over the various items they displayed. 

VCRs leaned against modern blenders. A set of shirts with designs no one in their right mind would buy hung on the sides, some showing signs of moth holes. He nodded as something small scurried atop a nearby shelf. 

The exterminator was another expense his boss didn’t want to hear about. 

Derrick claimed the complete lack of organization was all part of his system. He’d often boast about how the more a customer needed to search, the more likely they would be to impulse buy.

Arthur didn’t believe him, though the lack of customers meant they rarely tested the theory. More people popped in to ask for directions than to buy any of the second-hand stock that littered the store.

Pre-occupied with checking that nothing would drop onto him, he accidentally hip checked a display of Halloween decorations. He winced at the sound of a barrel of Halloween decorations crashing to the ground.

With a sigh, he stopped to pick up the plastic scythes and grinning skulls. All of which were faded and yellowed with age.

A frown formed on his face as he tried to remember the last time he’d put out anything for Halloween. Two years ago? No, three.

As he finished cleaning up the aisle, he wondered how any corporation thought these stores were a good idea.

They must make money from them somehow. He wondered if it was all a front for criminals. Thought what kind of crime they were committing was a mystery to him. Was he part of a money laundering scheme? A bunch of failed businesses as tax write-offs?

Arthur hoped for the former. At least that would be an interesting story.

Upon reaching the backroom, the envelope sitting on Derrick’s filthy desk caught his eye. It was clean. Which meant without a doubt it was new. Though, most interestingly, it bore his name in a messy scrawl.

He opened it and scanned the contents.

A scowl creased his face as he finished. With a huff, he tossed it back amidst the overflowing ashtray.

Before he even had the chance to deal with, and or celebrate, the fact management fired his annoying boss, a tone sounded out–the electronic bell that lived above the door.

The first customer of the day had arrived. 

It looked like he wouldn’t be able to escape on break after all. 

***

Arthur hurried out of the back room as he slipped into his customer service persona. 

The key was a relaxed smile he hoped they wouldn’t notice was as fake as the enthusiasm he’d be injecting into his voice. After he settled down into a posture he hoped conveyed interest, he doubled checked that the counter hid his book from prying eyes of customers. 

No point in getting tossed out after Derrick for a customer complaint. 

Rent wouldn’t wait.  

His eyes drifted down to the cover that Derrick had complained wasn’t work suitable. It was a fantasy story he enjoyed. Not a complicated plot. A run-of-the-mill guy got kidnapped by larger forces in the universe, gained powers, saved the world, and enjoyed himself.

Stupid? Yes.

Fun? Also, yes.

Arthur was looking forward to getting back to it. The love interest had arrived in a suitable dramatic fashion, and he was looking forward to watching the hero try to redeem himself against the draconic hoards of the mad wizard scientist. 

He could hear them off in the electronics section, or what passed for one.

The shelves hid the new arrival from view. No doubt they were picking out their free TV.

However, when the figure finally turned the corner to talk to the counter, it wasn’t one that he ever hoped to see. 

Tattoos covered the scowling face and most of their bald head. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a leather jacket with skull patches sewn into the side. A baseball bat painted with flames was slung over his shoulder.

Arthur knew them. Everyone did. Demonic Dan, the local gang leader.

Sure, it was a gang of street kids, and he’d given the name to himself. That didn’t mean people considered the younger man as anything but crazy and dangerous.

Arthur shrank back as the teen came to the counter.

“I want my TV,” Demonic Dan’s said, voice cracking on the last word.

“Sure.” Arthur gestured to the section he’d left. “Grab one.”

Demonic Dan blinked, his face turning momentarily confused, before returning to his trademark scowl.

“I have to answer the riddle first, right? You trying to cheat me?” His attempt at a growl coming out more like a gargle.

Arthur shook his head, raising his hands and pushing his chair backward. “Hey, ok. Cool. Go for it.”

Demonic Dan nodded, satisfied with the answer.

“Ok. Let me think,” he muttered as his eyes swept over the store. “Is it… me?”

Arthur paused, unsure how to respond. Every part of him wanted to say yes, to let the kid win. Thus, giving him what he wanted. However, that would require him to agree that Demonic Dan was tired, overworked, and jobless. Not identifiers he wanted to use for the teen.

“Well?” Demonic Dan tapped his foot. “Did I get it?”

There was no more time for thinking; it was now or never.

“Yes?”

Demonic Dan nodded, smiled, and turned towards the TV section. Arthur let out a sigh and returned to daydreaming about his book. This day was awful, but maybe it wouldn’t get worse.

“Actually, I want two TVs.”

He felt, though didn’t see, the bat that hit him in the side of his head.

***

Arthur awoke with a start.

He panted for breath as he stared out the large window in front of him. Behind it was what he could only describe as a money pit.

Though this one would put Scrooge McDuck to shame.

Mountains acted as walls to contain all the gold, jewels, treasure chests that spread out before him.

“Good, you’ve arrived.”

The voice that spoke was pleasant, though a tad rough, and drew his attention away from the riches. What he saw next took his breath away, and he could feel himself shivering. 

Behind the imposing desk was a creature he’d only heard legends about. As he gazed upon her, a primal part of his mind cowered from what he knew was a true predator. 

If she sensed his fear, she didn’t show it. Instead, she smiled, the sharp-toothed expression chilling on her draconic face. 

“I am the goddess, Epyrth. Mother of dragons. Domains of trade and treasure.” 

With each word, the white scaled wings behind her beat at the air. Each flap was powerful enough to force him to grab his hat so that it didn’t blow away.

His insides quavered as he forced himself to meet her gaze. Her sapphire eyes were like a still lake, giving nothing away. 

Did she expect him to speak? He wasn’t sure what to say, not the words would come.

There was a presence exuding from her. One that spoke of power, wealth, and utter control of everything she surveyed. 

Arthur stayed quiet and tried not to tremble as she smiled once again. Though a part of him still hoped for good news. Yes, he’d died. Sure, he was now being looked upon by a being he knew could snuff him out like a scared rabbit. 

However, he doubted his situation could get worse. 

With another smile, this one making the attempt at being welcoming, she spoke, and everything got worse. 

“Arthur Clark. Welcome to the company. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time with us.”

At those words, the pressure seemed to lift, but before he could say anything, she continued.

Her words came out quick, and clearly rehearsed. However, he could hear a twinge of excitement coming beneath the businesslike tone. 

“I have chosen you! As someone who died as little more than a faceless drone, I have given you another chance to show your true potential. To become the manager that you always could have been. You shall be reborn and set to work, contributing to the vast wealth you see out there.”

Before he could question her about the idea of being reborn, she pressed on.

“In doing so, you shall help a struggling world. You shall grow a business empire the likes of which they have never seen for hundreds of years. Leave now, Arthur, shopkeeper extraordinaire. Manager of his own fate. Savior of those discounted and forgotten. Bargainer of fortunes.”

She raised a clawed hand and flicked her wrist.

“Leave now, and may your probation period go well. I’ll be watching!”

As his vision faded to black, he heard her mumble under her breath.

“And don’t forget to pay my cut.”

Curses wormed into his brain, but he was gone before he could voice them.