Find Marcus The New World of SwapTech chapter 8 by deleted_user

Jonas stood near the main information booth, scanning the crowd for a face he only knew from Discord profile pictures.

Marcus. MarcusChen91. They'd been gaming together for three years. Raiding in Destiny, grinding in FFXIV, arguing about tier lists in Smash. They'd planned this convention trip for six months.

And now Jonas was a woman, barefoot, in yoga pants, trying to find a guy who'd never seen his real face.

This is going to be weird.

He pulled out his phone—thank god he'd grabbed it from the SwapPort locker before wandering off—and opened Discord. He typed:

JonasKeller: Hey, I'm at the con. Where are you?

Three dots appeared. Then:

MarcusChen91: Dude! I'm at the main stage area. Second row, wearing a red jacket. Come find me!

Jonas took a breath. Here we go.

He navigated through the crowd toward the main stage. The area was packed—people standing in rows, phones raised, watching a cosplay contest on stage. Jonas pushed through, muttering apologies, until he spotted the red jacket.

Marcus was exactly like his photos: Asian-American, mid-twenties, sharp jaw, glasses, a smile that seemed permanently affixed. He was watching the stage, phone in hand, and didn't notice Jonas approaching.

Jonas stopped next to him. "Hey."

Marcus glanced over—and did a double take. His eyes swept over Jonas—barefoot, yoga pants, tank top—and his expression shifted from confusion to something like cautious interest.

"Uh. Hi?"

"It's me. Jonas."

Marcus's brow furrowed. "Wait, what?"

"SwapPort mix-up. I got put in a female sleeve. I know I don't look like me." Jonas spread his arms. "But it's me. I swear."

Marcus stared at him for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed. "Okay, if you're really Jonas, what's the password for the group's FFXIV Discord server?"

Jonas almost laughed. "We don't have one. You keep suggesting we add a password bot but I keep vetoing it because it's annoying."

A beat. Then Marcus's face broke into a grin.

"Holy shit. It's really you."

"In the flesh. Unfortunately."

Marcus laughed, shaking his head. "Dude. Dude. You're a woman. You're a hot woman. This is insane."

Jonas felt his cheeks warm. "Thanks. I think."

"No, I mean—" Marcus gestured vaguely. "You're literally standing here in yoga pants looking like you walked out of a Lululemon ad, and you're telling me that's my boy Jonas under there?"

"That's your boy Jonas under here, yeah."

Marcus whistled low. "Okay. Okay, I need a minute to process this. But first—" He grabbed Jonas's arm and pulled him toward a quieter corner. "We're getting you some shoes. You look homeless."