Though the seats at the DMV office would typically be packed tightly with people waiting to be called up to the counter, no one seemed to be interested in sitting next to Clef. It might have been because he looked quite suspicious wearing a duster hat and coat in the middle of summer. It might have been because he smelled a little(a lot) like sulfur and smoke. It might have been because his unusually jagged teeth resembled those of a shark. It might have even been because that eye tattoo on the back of his neck looked like it had blinked.
Ultimately, it didn't matter to him. His status as an island in the sea of human bodies and chairs only meant he would be able to put his feet on the seat opposite him. Had he not been scolded three times prior, he'd probably be having a smoke as well.
Ding.
"Number 67, Line B. Number 67, Line B."
Finally, it was his turn. Clef stood up and approached the small window he had been assigned.
"Good day, commoner."
"Hi. How can I help you?"
"I'm here to get a driver's license like the little people do."
"Name?"
"Alto Clef, aka Agent Ukulele, aka Adam ben Yahweh, aka Lucifer, First of the Fallen, aka That Bastard, etc."
The woman sighed, rubbing her temples.
"So Alto Clef?"
"Yes."
"Like the music thing?"
"Yes, like the music thing."
"Okay. First, we'll need to take your picture, sir. Please stand against the blue background to your right."
Clef complied and moved towards the blue cloth, but raised a hand as the woman prepared to take a photo.
"Well, that's just it, you see. I can't have my picture taken."
"Say cheese!"
Click.
The camera shutter went off.
"You'll see what I mean now."
"Hmm, sorry sir we gotta take your photo again. Looks like a spider got in the way of the camera just as I clicked it. Let me just make sure the lens is clear. Please stand by the blue background with your back straight and look at the camera again."
"How to explain it… I am what you would call an anomaly."
The government employee blinked, completely non-plussed. She sighed and leaned forward on the counter.
"Anomaly. Like those S-C-P Foundation folks that came out of the woodwork last year?"
"Yeah. Exactly like that."
"Well. Then how did you take your driver's license photo before?"
"I didn't."
"You didn't?"
"I didn't."
"So you drove around without a license?"
"Not often, but in the rare occurrence I left Site-19 I did, yes."
"That's a crime, sir. I am legally required to report it and yourself to my supervisors."
"I believe I am above such petty regulations thanks to my employer."
"Then why are you trying to get a driver's license in the first place?"
"Because I plan on driving around now that I'm allowed to leave that stuffy old site."
"And yet you're above the law thanks to your employer."
"Yes. I am Doctor Alto Clef, Level-5 Researcher, and Containment Specialist."
Clef reached to his waist, pulling forward his Class-5 Clearance ID. Much like the image she had just taken of him, his face had been replaced with a small brown spider. He held it up to the woman with a smug and jagged smile on his face.
"And I'm Mercy Kirby, DMV clerk," she responded, pointing to the badge on her chest.
Clef's smile faded. He'd met a lot of people like this while working for the Foundation, but none of them possessed the level of cold disinterest in him, and his position of perceived power, that this woman had. She stared back at him with unfeeling eyes and a slight frown, as if being in his presence was an exercise in frustration. His blood ran cold at the sight of her reaching for the phone on her desk, her mind already made up.
"I, uh…"
Words failed him.
"I hope you see why this is stupid and why I will have to report you."
There was little he could think to say to this woman who had come to metaphorically tower over him. Clef struggled to produce further speech in his shocked trance. His bluster turned to fear as she pressed buttons on the dial. What would happen to him should he be stopped by whoever she was calling? What if he was taken to jail? Alto Clef couldn't go to jail!
"… well, you see-"
The clerk looked up at him, the phone in her hand. "Yes?"
But Clef had already dispensed the smoke bomb, obscuring vision in the area. Through the chaos, Clef could be heard tripping over chairs and muttering something about a fucking third eye that can't see for shit.

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