The last job was rough. Probably the roughest ever. If not for the specific set of skills all us contractors had, we wouldn't have survived, and I definitely wouldn't be out of the hospital just yet. However, thanks to a few choice regrouping after we all discharged ourselves, none of us walked away with anything more than a bruised brain.

Phillip developed a knack for healing people up with laughter, which apparently does wonders, and my Firebird bone was a reliable as ever. Any hospital staff who cared enough to keep tabs on us were probably pretty shocked at our speedy recovery, but that was the least of our worries at this point. All I cared about was making it a lot harder for this kind of eventuality to kick my butt the same way it did this time.

A perfect solution came to me after about a week, in the form of a parcel. Presumably from the cheery mailman, but I can't be sure. It was a small metal device, that sunk straight into my shoulder as soon as it made physical contact. Making any kind of contact proved to be quite hard after it sank in, however, as a wave of silver started snaking over my skin immediately afterwards. Almost like it was getting a feel for my form.

Whatever the case, I think I just scored myself the coolest set of armour ever.

After my last job, I couldn't stop thinking about was Neil's incredible stomach cavity. He mentioned in passing that it wasn't a normal gift, but instead a physical augmentation from someone else. With little else to do at home I messaged him and asked for more details. He was incredibly amenable, and offered me the number of one Nathan Hong, the man capable of augmenting one's body this way.

I tentatively reached out to Nathan, who was understandably skeptical and mistrustful at first. Once I explained how I got the number and what my goal was, he loosened up and agreed to meet me at a truck stop south of Whistler. We met up, and despite his reserved attitude, it was obvious he was at least worthy of my trust. His eyes were exceptionally tired; it's obvious he's seen the other side in this line of work.

We drove back to my place, and started negotiating. I learned that his augmentations didn't just stop with granting minor powers; he can graft parts of creatures to your body as well, and even grant supernatural abilities related to those creatures. As such, he was very interested in my Phoenix feather, and we managed to work out a magnificent deal.

I offered up three of my pens and the tail feather to Nathan, who in turn offered one of Neil's own necklaces, and opened a hole in my side to hide my arm. During the augmentation, we talked about all sorts of things, and I learned quite a bit about what's in store for me in my career as a contractor.

Nathan somehow disappeared from my house while using the washroom. Despite this unorthodox exit, I think I've made a new friend in this man. I hope I see him again.

I've been thinking about my powers a lot recently. During those months when I was living one-handed, I thought my life was over. And when I my arm back, I felt like I had been reborn. I decided I want to share that incredible, surreal feeling with other people, starting with my local community.

The first thing I did was hop online and look through all those depressing gofundme's. I sorted for the ignored ones that I could fix myself, but even through I found plenty, it turns out not a lot of people are open to simply meeting a stranger after a promise of healing. I'm sure I fully scared off one poor old woman, and alienated four others.

I decided to change tactics, and joined a physiotherapy office. There, I could personally meet people suffering from horrible lingering injuries, and that might make a personal meeting easier to achieve. My first 'client' was a young student named Thomas Fredrick, who I (non-creepily) followed home and confronted directly. I need to stress that I didn't crash into the same car twice in two weeks trying to follow him home, because that would be absurd.

When I met up with him personally, I healed his arm on the condition that he could reveal exactly how it was healed, or who healed it. I'm not fully ready to reveal this information to the public just yet. When we had finished, I asked him if he could refer my number to anyone who couldn't recover from their injuries the same way he couldn't, and also whether he could tell me about any local supernatural occurrences. He was happy to oblige on both accounts.

I left our meeting with knowledge of a Vampiric Plague that had spread to East Hastings Street in Vancouver, a series of Supernatural Assaults in Winnipeg, and a Sea monster ravaging a coastal Italian town. I also have a steady stream of referrals from a good source.

I can keep doing good in this community for a long time, I'm sure.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it. There now exists video evidence of my supernature.

Granted, it's shaky, and the authorities have not been able to pin it onto me one way or another. However, the risk imparted to me my this evidence is great, and greater still is that to my family. Henceforth, until I am absolutely certain that no harm may come of it, I resign from my second life of adventure.

I take these coming months as opportunities to get ahead on my writing, maybe venture north, domestically, and write about the Territories.

I will also strive to find an appropriate stash for the 1.1 million in gold I just acquired. I will not be liquidating it for a good long while, as that would draw undue attention to myself.

I have a good life. A comfortable life. I would do well to remember that, and not throw it away for the sake of some costly thrills and good stories.

A weird thing happened a few days after my last job.

I was working down in my garage, replacing my stock of pens. Just as I had finished the third one, I got an email from Offr.com. I almost deleted it, but a few words caught my eye. The email seemed to imply that with the combined value of my newly created pens, and the 1.1 million in gold I had stashed away, I had 'unlocked' a new selection of items to peruse.

Supernatural artifacts, it would seem.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Offr.com would offer such a selection; their quick rise in popularity had always struck me as unusual, and now I had a better understanding of why exactly that was.

What I was surprised to see, however, were some of my fellow contractors selling their goods there. I guess I must have been late to the party.

I spent quite a few days trying to understand the specific requirements for an exchange of supernatural goods, but I'm just about ready to begin purchasing some very useful equipment.

The last month of my life was rough, and I finally fixed it.

There's no possible way to explain just how mentally turnt I was after my last job. I could hardly function as a normal human being, and resolved to hole myself up in my house as best I could. Even grocery shopping was an ordeal, not that I let myself get out if I could avoid it. With this in mind, one could imagine my relief when I was presented with a supernatural solution to my problems: The Dogtor's Gardens of Mediation and Healing.

The process was simple; you spend a day meditating with a group of troubled peers, and you get your jam un-jellied, mental-wise. Seems simple, right?

And the weirdest part? It was. It was so simple, I couldn't believe it.

There was this one guy in a hoodie, who I can't imagine was anything more than another troubled soul who didn't like how other people were getting cured of their woes. Certainly, just another upset supernatural-adjacent troublemaker.

Aside from this one thing at the very start, where I had to expose myself as the super-powered sidekick of the legendary Mark Colins, thus decidedly ending any hope I could have possibly had of achieving a normal life, things went great!

Christ, I'm going to have to make some calls.

I don't know how, and I don't know why, but my arm has a mind of its own.

Just last week, a few days after I got back from the job down in the States, I started noticing things. A split-second before I intend to reach for my coffee, my hand is moving. My closet was straightened up in the morning, before I woke up with the intention of cleaning. It's like living with a writing software's auto-complete script on all the time. There's no outward change in the arm itself, so I can only conclude that it's been conscious all this time.

I get the feeling it's been letting me control it ever since I got it, learning through my actions what arms usually do. If that's the case, it'll be fantastic at using a keyboard.

I decided to put this theory to the test; I called that number I got from Mark Collins a while back, and spoke to Bu Fang. We traded items for favours, and my suspicions were confirmed. Just the same way I was augmented, my arm was too. Unless there's something about Bu Fang's cooking that allows inanimate objects to eat it, I've got a living arm on my hands.

I'm not averse to this new quirk, to be honest. It's like having an extra set of instincts working with me; there's no conflict to speak of.

Still, I wonder what that last reward did to the arm. I feel a lot more connected with it now...