(I don't own this series)

It didn't take long for me to realize things sometimes exploded when I got angry ever since I woke up in an alley an hour ago in a man's body. I hadn't managed to get a good look at my reflection yet, but I wasn't too much taller thanI used to be and I was pretty certain I was a dude; I was confused and lost, a quick google search in a local library revealing that none of my accounts were existent, which meant all my works were gone. The friends I emailed knew nothing of anybody that went by my name and nobody lived in my house.

The people in the library hadn't taken too kindly to a ramshackle man in ripped up clothing who looked like he had just fell off a tree and landed in a thorn bush, the glares burned into me and so I left.

I felt like I was in a daze, only coming out of it when I saw a guy throwing rocks over a fence, grinning every time his efforts were rewarded with a pained yelp. Rage exploded within me and the tires of a passing car popped, sending the car skidding off the road and slamming into the guy, stoppping just short of hitting the fence. Shocked, I continued on quickly before I could be noticed. Experimentally, I tapped into that same feeling as I stared intently at a rock. It exploded.

Angry = explosions.

Worried and feeling guilty, I hurried on my way, glancing around to see if anybody had saw me.

Somebody passed by me as I walked down the sidewalk, an uncomfortable feeling spreading through me as they did so. I glanced over my shoulder, heart sinking with fear as I saw golden feathers. A further examination revealed that I had three large golden wings; nobody else had anything like it but they didn't seem to notice, but I still felt afraid that a big black van would roll up with Feds to kidnap me and take me off to some lab.

Swallowing the lump in my throat I went through my pockets, relieved to find a wallet. It had a bit of money in it that might help me with this problem, but I didn't find any ID.

I could see a Salvation Army ahead and made my way towards it, putting the wallet in a front pocket. This was the only money I had so I was going to take zero chances of having it stolen.

Weird looks was the only welcome I got when I walked in and anxiety ate away at me; I wanted nothing more than to leave and hide under a rock, feeling especially scared about my wings.

I made my way to the clothes, ignoring the fact that they were watching me carefully to make sure I wasn't shoplifting.

I grabbed a couple of belts and a large white black trenchcoat and made my way to the checkout. The person behind the counter seemed unimpressed as I made my purchase; I had chosen the darker colored trench coat since I would probably be wearing it a lot. I left and hid out in an alley; it hurt to bind my wings and at first the belts went right through them. It took concentration, but once I had them tangible they stayed tangible, for the belts at least. They quickly began to hurt, but I grit my teeth and pulled on the trench coat. They trailed out from beneath, the tips of golden feathers on the primaries peeking out already beginning to get dirty from the ground. The way I had bound them made it so I didn't look hunch backed, but I think it worsened the pain.

I'll get used to it.

Next problem was food, where would I get that? And sleep? And work, since I would be needing more money. I could probably just use gas station restrooms or keep clean in the changing rooms of public pools if I could find one. A big enough box with more boxes wouldn't be awesome but would work as a bed. Get hand me down clothes from one of those good will donation things like the one behind the dollar store at home.

I'm gonna be okay.

"You're gonna be okay," I whispered the pep talk to myself.

That done, I buttoned up the trenchcoat and exited the alleyway; I still had time before it got dark and I would look suspicious.. well, more suspicious than a raggedy man in a trench coat can look, I guess.

By dark I had found a box. It was big enough to sit in and if I curled up with my wings sticking out I could practically fit. It felt wonderful to have them unbound and if I had them sticking out of the box tangibly instead of having them being intangible through the side of the box it kept me warm. The belts dug into my side, but I was kind of scared somebody might take them if I left them outside the box. Of course, I was also scared of somebody sneaking up on me and mugging me or worse, so I didn't feel too tired. I still managed to fall asleep though, which I was happy about I guess.

I slept restlessly, but I wasn't as sore as I figured I would be from sleeping in a box. My wings ached, probably from being bound most of yesterday, so I dread to think how they're going to feel after they will have been bound all of today. Once they were bound and under my coat, I was off, leaving my box behind.

Despite crippling anxiety and social awkwardness coupled with an alarmingly small amount of self confidence, I found it in me to go into every store and diner I passed, asking if they required any help.

Every single one of them turned me away, though I didn't blame them.

I was just about ready to give up and jump off a cliff by the time I reached a place eight miles from my starting point, a dark looking place called Bottom Up. There didn't seem to be too many customers in the bar and I was really sure I didn't want to have anything to do with it, but I was beyond desperate and so I walked right up to the bar and asked.

The bartender gave me a weird look and it irritated me that he was looking down his nose at me, but I merely gave my best puppy eyes.

"When can you work?" he finally asked, taking in my attire and how desperate I seemed.

"Now, if you want, whenever you need me," I promised, since there wasn't really anything I could currently do with free time.

"Name?"

Uh-oh. Maybe I can make something up? My mind instantly went to a fictional character, but that wouldn't work since it might sound suspicious if he knew them. Maybe use a name from one of my books or make one up? What? Gotta answer fast, first thing in mind-

"Jarvis Stark," I said, giving a warm smile.

He nodded, so I guess this was acceptable.

And just like that I had a job.

In the month I've been working here I have quickly learned that this was not a friendly working environment. The few coworkers I had were complete jerks with big egos, fueling it by picking on the homeless person in their midst as if just because I didn't have a house and a car and all that I was less human than they were. So what if I lived in a box, did that make me less human than them? Though they quickly figured that to be hilarious when they found that out after following me one day. I was swiftly given the nickname Butler over my split-second name choice.

None were as cruel as the owner's son, who always seemed to take things a step further; nobody was going to speak against him and risk losing their job, though, so I had to deal with it. While the others never went further than calling me Butler, Walter seemed to have decided I was easy pickings. He didn't work here himself, but that didn't stop him from throwing back a couple beers and setting to work making sure my day was horrible. He was pretty weird, since he had tattooed his eyes or gotten some sort of weird contacts that made his eyes completely black, but nobody ever commented so I didn't either.

"Heya, shortie," Walter giggled, (yes, a full grown man and he giggled) whacking me in the back of the head as he walked into the bar.

I narrowed my eyes and the table I was cleaning creaked as the force with which I was cleaning it with increased. I grit my teeth, forcing down the anger since I knew that I would have to clean up anything that explodes or breaks.

I finished cleaning the table, satisfied with it. My wings still ached from being bound most of the time, but I have since realized nobody else seems to see them. I don't know how to use them, which stinks since I have always wanted to fly, but I still used the belts to keep them out of the way. The feathers were all out of order, but I didn't know how to fix that so I let it be even though it was uncomfortable. My trench coat had increasingly come in handy now that winter is setting in, and it was hidden so that it couldn't be taken. Here I have to wear my work clothes, a black t-shirt and black pants with a belt like thing that contained straws and utensils around my waist. It was kind of nice being a dude, since I didn't have to worry about waking up to a cardboard Japanese flag and I didn't get harassed by guys as much as I've seen female workers get. I always tried to stop that when I see it happening, though usually the harrasser's shot glass or cup explodes; sometimes it's a girl harassing a guy, too, or sometimes a girl harassing a girl or a boy harassing a boy. I wish everybody could just... you know, not be creeps?

I was glad that I had gotten through much of my day without running into Walter, which labeled this as a good day in my book.

Turns out he meant to make up for lost time.

"Oops," he grinned as he spilled a shot onto the table I had just cleaned, "oh no, guess you have to clean it again, Butler."

"Why don't you just leave him alone?"

I was so surprised that I looked over at the speaker and Walter did too; George was a regular, a trucker who stopped by in time for last call every time he came through town and he didn't cower from Walter's pitch black glare.

"Butler doesn't mind, do you, Butler?" Walter beamed, clapping me on the back. His hand went right through my wings, making me shiver uncomfortably.

It also didn't help that I was afraid of him; if Walter ever tried anything, like beating me up, I wouldn't be able to stop him. The law would probably take his side, I would be jailed or they would find out there's something different with me and send me off to be dissected or something; my gut coiled at the idea of them figuring out I wasn't even in the system as well as being homeless.

Nobody had spoken up for me before, probably cause I tended not to say much. I cannot even begin to explain how strange it is to hear somebody else's voice come out when you speak and I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

"I'm pretty sure he has a name," George frowned before the sixty five year old turned a warmer version of his gaze on me, "you got a name, kid?"

"Jarvis," I said quietly, averting my gaze.

"That's a good name," he nodded, "a real good one for a good man, so you leave him alone, Walter. What has he ever done to you?"

"I bet he doesn't even pay taxes," Walter said sharply, "he's homeless and I bet he never even went to school. Not to mention he's practically mute, so I don't know why you care about some bum!"

Bum? Ouch.

"It's okay," I said, setting back to work on the table, "I can clean it again. I don't mind."

"No," George said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the table, "he made the mess, he can clean it up. Your shift is over anyways, isn't it, Jarvis? You should head off now," he shoved fifty bucks into my hand, "it's cold out there, kid, so you make sure you got some warm clothes and a blanket, alright?"

"I don't need it, really," I said, feeling moved to tears over his kindness.

"I don't need it as much as you do," he insisted.

My hand curled around the fifty dollar bill and I gave him a small smile, "I... I don't know what to say... thank you, sir, it's been a long time since anyone's been so kind to me."

I never saw him again except in the paper.

I think Walter had something to do with it.

I should have insisted on cleaning that table; if I hadn't left, then maybe George would still be around. He showed me such kindness...

Winter was long and harsh, but thanks to George's kindness I had warm clothes to get me through. I continued to keep my wings unbound only at night, enclosing myself in the three of them to make me warmer. Food tasted weird but I could taste sugary things, like candy, so most of my diet consisted of sugar. Coolest part was that I didn't seem to gain any weight from this diet, which meant I ate even more of it. I missed other foods, but at least I had sweets and junk food.

I don't think I've ever been happier when winter completed its transition into spring and took away with it all the smush and brought along warmer weather. I no longer had to depend on a soggy box and could more easily get to the pool to shower in the changing rooms without landing flat on my rear on ice every couple steps.

People kept on disappearing, which made me a little scared for not only myself but other people. Mostly other people because they couldn't make things explode.

I have even gotten myself a bank account, which was a horrible process indeed, saving up my money. The rest I wasted mostly on junk food; I think my sweet tooth had only gotten worse when I had woken up in this body, but being that it was the only thing I could technically taste I savored every single piece in case I woke up one day and couldn't taste that either.

I found that I really liked this body's hair, since it stayed in a certain hairstyle. At first I had thought maybe it was hair gel in it, but it seemed that it was naturally that way or maybe the same power that made things explode kept it that way. I looked a lot like Richard Spreight jr., which was cool, though nobody ever commented on it.

Yep, things were looking up for little, old me.