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Apparently, he was falling.

Did that mean that some sort of pitfall trap had activated the instant he opened that door? No, he wasn't falling down a deep trench, in which would be booby-trapped with sharp wooden stakes. All in all, he didn't even fall that far, and instead, found himself landing rather softly on the pavement. Heck, it was soft enough of a landing that he even felt as if he bounced slightly off the ground. Odd. He felt lighter too, as if he suddenly lost a few pounds of weight, all without any liposuction. As he recovered from what felt like a twenty-centimetre drop, however, Gabe realized that things weren't as normal as they should have been.

After all, now he was outside, surrounded by buildings composed of the strangest materials: household appliances. Stacked up by the stories, dishwashers, refrigerators, kitchen sinks, car engines, and a whole array of valves dominated the landscape, making the young man briefly question whether or not he was hallucinating. Maybe his next-door neighbour was an aficionado of drugs, and had somehow mixed up a cocktail of mind-altering substances that was so potent that even taking a whiff of the scentless gas was enough to send people into a vivid land of delusions.

Oh, but then there was Bookman once more, appearing in front of him in human (if he could be considered such) flesh, floating just ever-so slightly off the ground. Fun. So that whole 'sent-to-another-world-in-order-to-fight-people' idea wasn't that far off the mark, now was it. Grasping the hand that was offered to him and pulling himself up, Gabe noticed just how easy it was to exert his strength. Another odd thing was that his arm was...well, different from what his arm looked like previously. Now, he was wearing a purple collared shirt, with a black vest and a whole ton of unnecessary metal parts attached.

Shrugging in response to the amused grin of his partner, or perhaps his future mentor, or perhaps even just a random guide to this new world, Gabe felt his hair next...and had the oddest sensation of grasping at a brick wall. It was as if his hair had suddenly hardened to the same strength as concrete, and, as he felt around a little more, it was clear that he was possessed by some anime-esque hairstyle. The hardness made sense then. Gravity-defying, water-resistant hair could be quite easily obtained by mixing hair gel with cement or superglue, after all. What a pity. Seems like, in this world, he'll have to employ the services of a barber skilled not with razors or scissors, but with chainsaws.

He took out his cellphone next, which must have magically or psychically teleported into his pocket, and found that he had a new home as well, a cubic building that was just a few meters off, a road of junk and trash leading up to it. It also seemed like, according to the new additions to the Key Shop application, that he was in a place called the 'Violent Junkyard'.

That suited him just fine.

Fiddling with his cellphone for quite a bit longer, as he scanned the more RPG-esque elements of the app, Gabe was just about to get into what his skills were, when Bookman interrupted him with something about not looking [i]them[/i] in the eye.

What was them?

Ah, that was them.

While he was distracted with all the shiny new features on his jailbroken Iphone, the duo was surrounded by a pack of metal scaly things, with beartraps as mouths. Tilting his head to the side, the young man tried to figure out where exactly their eyes were...until one of them leapt at them, snapping with its rusty jaws, only to get smacked away by one of Bookman's books.

It was nice to see that the name that he chose was fitting.

As he retreated alongside his struggling Key-Guide, he wondered briefly whether they were beset by such irrational beasts because he had such a low Luck-level. Then, he went on another tangent and wondered whether, being of metal, they also ATE metal. As Bookman threw books, occasionally floating around for no obvious reason, Gabe casually tore off one of those metal spike-thingies that were attached by a chain to his shoulder pad, before tossing it towards the pack.

[b]“Fetcherinos, doggies.”[/b]

He didn't really want to fight them, because, after all, it wasn't like he could shatter metal with his fists, right?