Part 2
I had to recast Hideaway twice before the rain broke, and had actually ended up forcefully ejected by the third Casting due to having lost track of time leaning up against the wall, trying to rest.
I needed to start work on refining that Cantrip ASAP. Not only would enough development let me expand it, and put in some basic amenities (like chairs, or chair shapes anyway), if I refined it enough I could bind a few castings of it to an Item as an enchantment. That might be more stable.
Also it'd let me build a really cool looking magical item. Like… what shape should I even make it? A house key? Maybe a doorknob? Maybe a roll up carpet/poster 'door'? Nah, not that one, that'd be too bulky to carry around casually.
Speaking of refining Cantrips. While I waited out in the cold I'd done my best to make use of some other bits of magic to keep myself warm.
Firebolt. Normally a combat cantrip. It was unstable in the 'ranged' way. Most ranged cantrips seemed to be, which… made sense kind of? That part of them was less generally 'set' in what it was capable of so it could 'grow', be refined into something greater. However, the cost of this was that it also clearly made it less stable in that aspect.
Likewise, the cantrips that you'd want to refine their duration had issues holding together too long. Which both Hideaway and Mage Armor counted as unfortunately. Though they did remain 'stable' as long as I kept recasting it once its reduced duration ran dry. The instability seemed to only be a problem if I 'overtaxed' some part of the spell that was considered 'important'.
Which really. went a long way to explain why Prestidigitation was so unstable. That Cantrip was a swiss army knife of functions, able to do a bit of everything, and as an end result everything was important in it. Its multifaceted nature made holding it together… difficult
Still, just because a Cantrip wasn't stable didn't mean I couldn't use it. As long as they weren't unstable in their 'connection'. Even that might be usable with care. Prestidigitation seemed to be… 'healing' for lack of a better term. Maybe cooling off was a better way to put it? I didn't know if it'd recover fully, if it'd be safe to use again if it did. Hopefully I wouldn't need to cross that bridge until I got a second opinion.
But like I'd mentioned before, I had more immediate concerns.
For the moment I had to get out of this park.
I looked up at the gate I'd just spent my time hiding in. It was…. Not actually that formidable.
I mean sure, it was tall, there were some impressive gargoyles on the cement pillars, but it was just a gate? The fence was more problematic. Brick and steelwork more than ten feet tall. It could probably be climbed pretty easily by a parkour expert, but that was something I very much was not.
What I was however, was a mage! Kind of a shitty one, and just starting out, but I was definitely magic!
Okay so… what magic to use? Flight? Nope. I could not do that. There were cantrips that could theoretically let me fly, with work, if I pushed them in the right ways far enough, but nothing immediate.
Okay how about conjuring something to help? A platform, or rope, or something like that? I'd already conjured a raincoat out of Mage Armor, so I knew some spells that made things could be used for at least a short while.
Unfortunately, all the ones that would be useful for this were the less useful of options. I had cantrips that could conjure both useful items, and summon a spectral mount, but both were heavily unstable, both in connection and duration.
Well. There was one summoning spell that was entirely stable. But… yeah no. I wasn't trying that one in fucking Gotham. Not until I'd gotten a lot better at this magic thing anyway.
So what else did that leave me? Phase through the gate? I did have a Cloudshape Cantrip, but it had the same issues, also, at its most basic level I couldn't make all of me immaterial.
Okay how about teleportation?
Surprisingly, this was my best option. Two cantrips, Gate which was a complete non-option, every bit as unstable as Prestidigitation was, but there was also a more direct teleportation cantrip that only had issues with range. Big issues with range admittedly, but…
I eyed the large locked gate again, looking past it to the open, seemingly empty streets beyond.
"Okay," I exhaled. "I can do this. I will do this. It's just like the other stuff."
Except it was even more likely to leave me lodged halfway through a bunch of steel bars.
Hah. Okay, magic time.
I raised my hands, inhaling sharply as I began a low, complex chant. This one wasn't like Firebolt. It wasn't easy to cast and recast. In fact it was even more elaborate than my Hideaway cantrip was. At least at my current level. I needed to aim properly.
I pressed my hands together, twisting them towards the gate, or rather the space beyond it, threading fingers together first to forge the connection, linking space to space.
Shift to align parallels. Lock the origin and destination. Let the distance become close, become the same. Break apart the illusion of space to the revelation that everything is a whole. Definition is only a variable. A variable I can command. A variable I can change.
There is no space. As I split my hands apart, I am already beyond the gate. I just need to stop being where I began.
Clapping my hand back together in a single, loud, cracking sound as the world… Blinked.
And I stumbled, stumbling beyond the gate, because I did not factor in how fucking disorienting that fucking was. Air pressure. Fuck. Ow. Not actually that painful but… I holy shit.
"I…" I looked back through the gate, to where I'd been standing ten seconds earlier, then down to my feet, then back to the spot.
"I just fucking teleported," I uttered. Then threw a fist into the sky, "I just fucking teleported! Fuck yeah!"
BEEP BEEP! "GET OFF THE ROAD!" Roared out from my side.
OH-FU-
Running back to the sidewalk and off the fucking road, painting heavily from the shock, exertion and… well fucking everything.
"Holy shit I'm a wizard," I uttered. Then gave another quick fist pump. Fucking wizard bitches!
Also nearly died. Which was bad. Hahahah.
Okay… okay… so… Step one done. Step two… that was finding shelter. In Gotham. Late enough at night I'd only seen one other person and they'd been in a car…
…It probably was possible. Yeah. I could do this. If nothing else? I could just… I dunno, open another few Hideaways in some alley and wait until morning. Certainly there was something available at this time of night. I mean this was a city right?
I mean I was a fucking wizard. I totally had this!
Part 3
I did not 'have it'. I didn't 'have it' in the slightest. In fact I so didn't have it, that not only did I completely fail to find a place to stay, I even screwed up the Hideaway part of my backup plan.
Turns out. If you're leaning on the wrong part of the inner wall when the duration runs out, the way it collapses will not just push you out of the thing, but outright launch you.
Which was… actually kind of cool? But unfortunately also painful.
Not too painful, luckily, I'd been worried I'd broken my nose, which would have been bad, since I was not some action hero who could just reset my own broken bits. I did have a few healing cantrips, they were all either highly unstable, were limited to things like cuts, bruises, and bad feelings, or outright didn't have actual medical use at the base level.
Which still helped. Heck, Goodberry technically was a medical Cantrip, the berries not only filled me as much as a full meal (which was very appreciated), but they could, eventually, be given healing properties. If I worked at it enough.
And given how few resources I had… I was probably going to work on it enough, just through raw use if nothing else. Given my lack of money and legal ID, I'd probably be living off them.
At least they tasted pretty good. Even at the base level I could basically make any 'small' fruit I liked, and this time I'd opted for Strawberry.
Not as filling as the D&D version though. As the sun rose, I found myself already getting a bit hungry.
And sore. I was a bit tempted to use Blessing again, to try and fix up my feet and knees. I'd been walking around the entire night at this point, and I'd honestly started off worn out, even if the excitement of my circumstances had given me some momentary energy. And while I did have another cantrip that could help with that, Vigor, it's effects were limited.
At full functionality, Vigor was supposed to do two things at its most basic level. It was supposed to provide the energy of a short nap, and increase my resistance to being tired for its full (one minute) duration. In its current state? Well half a minute of exhaustion resistance was… probably handy? Situationally maybe. I wasn't sure how it'd work with knock out gas or sleep spells.
More importantly, while it had given me a burst of wakefulness, repeated castings had been less effective. And it did nothing for the actual physical strain of being up and active for so long, even if I wasn't doing a lot more than walking. It didn't help that it wasn't the warmest weather, even without the rain.
I was nearing my limit. I needed a place to sit and try to get some proper rest and nowhere looked particularly appealing.
With a bit of morbid amusement, I realized I probably should have just stayed in the freaking park. At least there were benches there. Not even the asshole anti-homeless kind.
Maybe I could go back there? Was it open today? Or even open to the public? Sun was crawling up there, even if I wasn't sure when exactly it was.
Ugh, maybe I could just… find a spot in some side alley. Give my knees a rest. Blessing seemed to help with that in the short term at least, and heck, as a side effect, it'd even ward away 'violent intentions'. That might help keep me from getting mugged! Even if the Cantrip would only last for a few minutes.
Yeah, by this point, even a fifteen minute power nap sounded great. Even if it was beside a garbage can on cold, hard pavement. Maybe that'd reset Vigor and let it chew off the rest of my exhaustion? Or at least some of it.
Moving into the first relatively dry and clear alleyway I could find, I took a minute to stagger down it, looking up and down… it smelled faintly of piss, but not as strong as the payphone I'd walked past earlier. Decent amount of graffiti, but I didn't see anything that jumped out as gang symbols. Just your standard swears, dicks, and genuine attempts at art.
It'd do.
C-click! "Now, no sudden movements," gruffed out a harsh voice behind me.
Oh you gotta be kidding me.
"Wallet, watch, and anything else you got!" the voice demanded.
"I… don't have any of those," I bluffed, reaching to my sides and pulling my physical pockets inside out, so glad I'd already stored my valuables in my extradimensional Pocket, before reaching up to the sky. Both to make it clear my hands were empty… and well.
There were a lot of offensive cantrips which were easily cast in that position. And not all of them needed me to aim.
"Wha… Don't start shit with me? I've got a gun, I have used it before," the gruff voice of my would be mugger replied, now sounding less harsh and more put out.
"I don't have anything," I defended. "I mean… look, you're not going to steal the shirt off my back are you? It's cold as hell and I'm down to a T-shirt already," my Mage Armor had expired long ago, and without the rain around to justify the risk of being spotted re-conjuring it, I hadn't bothered.
"I don't want your fucking T-shirt, look. Those are some nic- shit. Those are absolutely shit shoes. What the fuck even are those?" he asked.
"Crocs?" I tried.
"Are those some kind of designer slippers or something?" he tried.
"Noo… cheap molded plastic," I replied. "Cost me eight bucks Canadian- are you stealing my shoes?" I asked him, rather worried about that. It was cold. Even with healing magic, walking around barefoot…
"You, got nothing?" He asserted.
"Only what I'm wearing," I asserted. "Check yourself, pat me down if you have to. I have absolutely nothing of value on me."
They did exactly that, moving ahead and rapping their hand roughly against all my visible pockets, sides, back, shoulder.
"Fuck man," he said. "Did someone already mug you?"
"Kinda?" I said. "Look… I just woke up here a few hours ago. This is Gotham, right?" I asked.
"Turn around," he ordered.
Not being an idiot I complied, and to my relief, he was not pointing his gun at me. Less relieving, said gun was very much present, raised upward, and ready with the owner of said weapon's finger resting up beside the trigger in a manner that seemed every… professional.
I got the vibe he wasn't lying when he said he'd used it before.
The man himself was open faced, which was, if anything more concerning, pencil mustache, light blue eyes, black hair with a bit of gray, I'd put him late thirties-ish with a lot of wear. Also surprisingly well dressed for a mugger, business suit and fedora.
"Am I… in someone's territory?" I asked, alarmed, as I realized how very classically gangster-like he seemed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I wasn't supposed to be here."
"Don't worry about it," he said. "Now who the fuck did you piss off enough to dump your ass, high and dry in Gotham."
"I… dunno?" I said with a shrug, hands still up.
"Put your hands down. I'm not mugging someone who doesn't have anything worth stealing" he said flatly, tucking away his gun. Notably not doing anything with the safety as he did so.
I put down my hands, and after a second's hesitation, removed my finger from the mental 'triggers' I had prepared, the primary of which was to conjure a spirit bow just a bit above and behind his head, which would have automatically shot him through it.
I was ready to turn my palms outward and unleash bolts of fire and/or lighting, beams of ice, bolts of razor sharp crystal, or… whatever the fuck you called Eldritch Blast though. I was being optimistic here, not stupid.
"You got anyone you can call for help?" he asked me.
"Uh… no," I admitted.
"I'm not trying to hold you hostage either," he said bluntly.
"No, seriously, I don't have anyone," I said, shaking my head.
"No one," he repeated . "No friends? Family? Coworkers?"
"I have no ties to anyone on this Earth," I said earnestly. It was even true in the technical sense. "I was self employed- well, family shop, but well. That's gone too. I got nothing. No connections."
"Well fuck," he said. "Not sure if that's rough or something to find enviable."
"From my perspective?" I said. "Kinda sucks. I mean… I was just looking for a corner to sit down in and try and sleep."
"That is a state I'm more familiar with," he said. "But you ain't doing it here."
"That's fair. Thank you again for not shooting me," I replied.
"Stop thanking me, whaddya think you are, Canadian?" he asked.
"Uh… formerly?" I said.
"Fuck," he replied, eyebrows shooting up. "You really did piss someone off."
I sighed. "I don't suppose you know where I could crash for the night? I don't mind working to earn my way if it's simple. Or something I know how to do," I added.
That seemed to tickle his interests. "Are ya? Okay then… Why dontcha tell me your qualifications?"
I realized full well that this might not exactly be a legal job he was offering… but fuck, beggars can't be chosers. I'd just have to hope it wouldn't be anything too illegal, or that he'd accept a 'no thanks' if it was.
Part 4
After I completed my interview, Irwin, my almost-mugger and now prospective employer, gave me a nod, considered my story, then lead me out to a shady as fuck looking warehouse by the docks.
Which, you know, normally I might give a pass… except that I had pretty much no ready options outside of that, and was feeling pretty damned tired at this point.
Luckily, rather than a large array of sharp, pointy 'hobby tools' and plastic tarps… there wasn't really much of anything. In fact there was nothing outright, until Irwin went up to the warehouse office, and fished out a shitty plastic folding chair and a towel that I could use as 'bedding' for the night.
I'd eyed the office he'd pulled them from, which, despite not looking warm or comfy, still looked a lot warmer and comfier than a folding chair in the middle of an empty wearhouse…
"Forget it," he said, reading me like a book. "I'm willing to trust, but not trust that much," he said bluntly. "Stick around until the morning and there might be work. That work might pay under the table enough for you to get a hot meal, or warm coat. Maybe, if you put in an honest effort and actually get some shit done."
I considered my odds, and decided not to press. This was still better than being out exposed in a piss smelling alleyway. Fish smelling warehouse with an actual roof? Massive upgrade all things considered, drafty or not.
"I'll be here," I said, agreeing at once. Again, not like I had much choice. This was, quite frankly, stupid good luck all things considered.
Didn't feel like it. But fuck it, this was the smallest part of the price for magic.
And it wasn't like I couldn't do things to help.
"-invoke thy mercy. To be a ward against pain, against ill-thought, against harm and actions come to regret. A Blessing to mend that which aches, to shield against wrath-" I chanted as I carefully, as I walked in a circle around the chair.
At the same time, I moved my hands up and down, twisting them around in vaguely tai-chi like motions, pressing up against and smoothing out… Stuff, that was immaterial as it was rough, and apparently connected to the very concept of violence. Soothing it into something more peaceful, constructive.
Kinda like feng shui, except manual, and you know, a lot more dramatic.
Okay not that much more dramatic. Not yet.
"Be soothed, be healed, and in turn heal those within your bounds in turn. Let this warehouse be a place of sanctuary, of succor of grace… Did it take?" i asked as I finished my final rotation.
I stepped into the 'circle' I'd been walking around, closed my eyes and-
"Ooooooh… That's the good shit," I exhaled, as at once all my pains- well most of it. The old aches, the scars, the joints all eased up at once, even my knees eased up on their complaints for a little longer..
Sitting myself down in the chair, I gave myself a once over. I wasn't as dirty as I feared, but… yeah I was going to need to find a shower at some point. And a change of clothes. Fuck, How did normal people living on the street manage this? I should probably try and get a bag? I mean I had Pocket, but…
I started kicking off a croc, thought better of it, and carefully removed it.
Feet looked fine. That was good, no signs of frostbite or blisters, though the second weren't exactly likely to begin with.
I put it back on. It wasn't much insulation by design, but it was better than being barefoot. "Guess that's the best I can do," I mused. Well outside of starting a fire for heat, which was… tempting, but I didn't have a pit, or a trashcan to repurpose for one, much less fuel.
I'd make do. The night was cold, but not that cold. Not with a chair to keep me off the floor.
I eased into my seat, and wrapped the towel around me like an improvised blanket. It wasn't great for that. None of this was great, but I… I should just stop complaining and try and get some rest while the Blessing held.
I exhaled, closed my eyes and just… let myself drift as much as I could.
I slept. Or maybe dozed was a better term. The sheer insanity of the day's events would probably have made it hard to sleep even if I was somewhere familiar, nevermind on something as uncomfortable as a cheap chair in the middle of an empty warehouse, but at the same time I was exhausted. Yeah, I'd only been in Gotham half a day, but…
It helped, I think. Or, at least, when I started to full awareness at the sound of the warehouse door opening, I felt like I'd gotten some rest. More than Vigor had provided.
I looked at the people opening the door and… yep, there was Irwin, and another couple of similarly gangster clad people… and what looked like a couple dozen more normal looking folks in various mixes of clothing. Several of which, who I noticed looked a lot more ratty than I did. Heck, one guy didn't even have matching shoes. Instead he had one dress shoe and one sneaker.
That… was actually really encouraging.
"Heya boss!" I said with a wave, getting myself up and trying to fold up the towel. "No break-ins overnight," I said, like I was some sort of security guard and not a squatter.
One of the other well dressed goons was a guy in his earlyish twenties, with blonde hair and gray eyes, a lot like Irwin's. Though he didn't seem to fill out his 'uniform' quite as well. He carried himself like he was a bigger guy though. Turning his head to my apparent benefactor with a cocky smirk on his lips. "You a Boss now, Irwin?"
The older man scowled at him, "Shutaap," He snapped at the younger man, before looking at me and giving a nod.
I shrugged. "You pay me for work, you're the boss. Don't care if it's cash or a sandwich," I said like it was some personal life philosophy.
The younger goon nodded, "I can respect that. Hey Bill!" he said, turning to the third 'professional' in their group.
"We'll see how he works first," 'Bill' replied in kind. Blue eyes this time, brown hair, I pegged him as early to mid thirties, tallest of the trio, powerfully built, but also looking the least comfortable in his suit, which fit him the worst.
And yet… there was something about how the other two looked at him when they talked.
"Speaking of work," I said folding up the towel as best I could setting it on the chair, wishing I could just cast Prestidigi-
Prestidigitation was usable again. Well, not casually usable. It was still unstable as hell, but it had bounced back from that 'fragile' state. If anything it kind of felt… ready. Almost eager.
That was… huh… I was tempted to experiment with that. If I could use even the really unstable Cantrips, even in a limited capacity… Well, suddenly my options doubled. More than doubled technically, though not by a lot, and probably in a less reliable way.
At the same time, I was worried that it might not actually be 'fixed', and I really didn't want to risk fucking up part of my magic when I did still have other options.
After all, there were supposed to be a few other magic users in this town right? And some of them were supposed to be decent enough people? No sense taking unneeded risks when I might be able to get the equivalent of a medical exam and expert opinion.
That'd have to wait until after I got work… and after I found out if I was going to get paid or not. Well beyond the place to stay the previous night.
And, to quote myself, speaking of work.
"Alright people!" Bill called out. "All of you here are here for a job!" He belted out, addressing the masses that had loosely followed the trio.
That call got at least most of their attention.
"It is a shit job," Bill continued unabashed. "But it is a simple job. And it is a job that pays. So listen the fuck up!" He said, tossing in a token swear for emphasis. "Sometime within the next hour, a series of deliveries is due to bring a bunch of crates to this warehouse! You are going to help unload those crates into the warehouse, do it quick, and do it without looking at whatever's inside. An hour after that, someone's going to show up with another truck, and you're going to load the crates we mark, onto that truck. Simple enough? Good. You got any questions, ask'em."
The guy with two different kinds of shoes raised his hand.
"You," Bill pointed.
"Is this job part of Bruce Wayne's secret conspiracy with the alien lizard people? Because I'm not backing any project that helps the lizard people agenda!" He said firmly.
There was a beat of consideration that, Bill looked at Irwin and thus far unnamed third gangster, back to the guy, face a mask of consideration as he lightly nodded. "Far as I know? Nope. No part in any of that."
"I'm good!" Two shoes guy said.
Another hand went up.
Bill made a finger gun. "Go."
"Uh… you said we're being paid… uh… that's with uh… money right? Or is it with…" they licked their lips. "Other stuff."
"Cash," Bill repliced, and after a moment a third hand went up, more hesitantly.
The gangster gestured again a bit less enthusiastically.
"Do we get piss breaks?" The guy, a relatively young guy only a few inches shorter than me, and probably with more than twice the muscle mass.
"If you need one, take it now. There's a porta potty three buildings down that way," Bill pointed.
The big guy started off.
"Anything else?" Bill asked.
Two shoes raised his hand again.
"I'm gonna regret this," the well-dressed probably-a-criminal admitted softly. "Okay, what do you want to know?" he asked.
"Does this shipment connect to the Wayne family's production of a secret army of alchemical birdmen assassins!?" the 'worker' asked in a slightly manic tone, before going serious again. "Because I'm less upset about that one but I still feel we'd have a right to know!"
"The Wayne's ain't involved in this," Bill said flatly.
The man with two different shoes, and apparently strong opinions about the Wayne family scoffed at that. "Yeah, right… Maybe that's what you think." Still, he didn't raise any further questions.
There were a few more questions. Some relevant, some less so. Did we need any tools? How much were we going to be paid, could we look into the crates we weren't loading into the other truck, was this an audition for the goonion, was any of this stuff radioactive, etc. The answer to most of which was no. Not the being paid part. We were being paid fifty bucks, each. Though that was if we did the job right.
Which… honestly didn't sound that bad for a simple job like this? Not with this many of us anyway.
It was enough to stick around
until the first truck showed up anyway. Then I saw the size of the crates. Yeah that… made things a bit more dubious.
"Two at a time!" Irwin instructed. "Three or more if you need it! Don't try and rush stuff. Keep it smooth. Smooth is fast."
I worked with two shoes and the big guy to lift the near man sized crate, which probably weighed as much as all three of us put together, and walk it down the ramp. It wasn't the heaviest thing I'd ever helped lift, but it also wasn't the lightest. And the distance we needed to carry the thing might not be huge, but it wasn't small either. More importantly it was one of well over a hundred crates in the truck. And we were far from the smallest group lifting.
Suddenly that fifty bucks seemed a lot less generous… though still probably more than I could easily find under the counter anywhere else in town.
And also lucky… I had magic.
"For the queen, for the hive. Might of the small. Boulders are pebbles, we carry them all. Animal Aspect strengthen my back. Carry this burden, build up the stack," I chanted, refreshing a short lived, semi-stable cantrip right as it expired from its brief, thirty second duration.
Luckily, this one didn't need gestures.
Less luckily, it didn't do a lot. Animal Aspect let me channel the totems of small harmless animals to raise any of my base physical aspects by about ten percent. Even focusing that specifically to lifting strength… it wasn't a huge boost. But it was enough to keep the mantra going.
"For the queen, for the hive-" I began to repeat.
"The hell are you mumbling?" The big guy asked.
"-Might of the small. Boulders are pebbles-" I continued unabated.
"Some kinda… mystic mantra I think?" Two shoes said, as he lifted beside me. "He's lifting a little more each time he says it."
"-the burden, build up the stack." I finished moments before the Cantrip ended. "It's a technique," I grunted. "Lets me carry more."
"Whatever man," the big guy said, paying it no further mind.
Because why would it be? I wasn't being flashy. The Cantrip was barely doing anything, and unlike a lot of others had no visible effect. The weirdest part was me chanting it.
It did however get on some people's nerves.
About three crates in the big guy hit his limit. "Can't you just say that in your head?"
"Nah man, that's now how magic works, you need to say it out loud," Two shoes said.
"Not for all magic," I said, unable to help myself from correcting him.
"Yeah, but for that one, right?" he asked. "And I knew it was magic!"
The big guy snorted. "Yeah. Very fancy magic."
"What makes you say it's magic?" I asked the lopsidedly dressed conspiracy theorist.
"I've done my research!" the man asserted. "The Great Zatara? Doctor Fate? Everyone's heard of those two. But how about Blackbriar Thorn? How about Tobias Wayne the secret Diabolist? Even the modern day Scarface is not, in fact, a simple madman with a dummy, but a actual possessing spirit with a number of mortal patsies!"
"Ah…" I said. "I… have no idea who any of those are," I said bluntly.
"Wha… and you call yourself a wizard?" he asked me.
I shrugged. "I'm from out of town? Also I never told you I was a wizard."
"You're not denying it," he accused.
"Leave him off, Jimmy,' The big guy said.
"He's not denying it Frank," The spindly guy said.
"If I was magic… would you really wanna disturb me?" I asked 'Jimmy'.
"Yes," he said bluntly.
And… for some reason? That struck a chord with me.
"Fine, I'm a wizard," I admitted.
"SEE!" The conspiracy theorist grinned.
'Frank' groaned. "Now why the hell did you have to say that?"
"Well… I am a wizard," I said. "Just not a really good one."
Frank turned his head to look at me. "You're a wizard."
"I'll show you when we stop for lunch," I said. "Don't pass it around though. People will ask me to regrow their arms, resurrect their loved ones, or give them winning lottery numbers and I can't do any of that crap," yet.
"Yeah right," Frank said. "Just keep carrying your share." Like ReplyReport Reactions:Raven01, 84900137, brockpoltergeist and 633 othersMizuki_StoneMar 3, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 1 Part 5 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.Mar 3, 2025Add bookmark#15Part 5
"...You're actually a wizard," Frank said in shock, as he watched me conjure another Goodberry. The Fruit growing from my fingertip like a vine.
"Kind of a crappy one, but yeah," I said, breaking it off and handing it to an eager Jimmy. "I can do this. The animal totem thing. Heal small cuts and bruises. Teleport like five feet. Some very minor conjuring. Basic elementalism. Maybe some transmutation, though I'm not sure I'm up for that. The fruit is probably the most impressive thing. Each one's as good for you and filling as a full, balanced meal."
"Itsh good!" Jimmy said as he ate his berry, having confirmed them 'safe' by having me eat the first one. Not that I was complaining.
"So wait, like… turning people into toads?" he asked warily.
"I can't turn people into toads," I said, shaking my head.
"And… fireballs?" he asked warily.
"...I can't turn people into toads," I repeated.
"Hahaha… fuck. Uh… so when I was complaining earlier. You know I did not mean anything by that right?" he asked.
"Frank- can I call you Frank?" I asked.
"...yes?" he said hesitantly.
"Right, you can call me Reed by the way," I introduced myself. "Frank. I'm not a superhero. I'm not a supervillain either. I am barely even what you could consider 'super', and that itself is a tangled mess of commitments that mean I'm probably neither going to bother with either of those 'career' paths." I explained.
"But… magic?" he tried, seemingly not getting that. "I mean… fireballs and magic food?"
"Yes, magic," I replied. "Which, yes, lets me do fireballs and food, but does not, let me conjure up a house," yet. "Or give me a stable income," yet. "I know a few tricks, but being a wizard isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"Can you teach me?" Jimmy suddenly interjected having finished his Goodberry.
"...No," I said after a moments consideration.
"Wha? Why not? Is it some bloodline thing? Did I need to be born when the stars are right? Do some ritual? Bath in the blood of a rainbow serpent?" he asked.
"No, I'm just not skilled enough to teach," I said. "And I mean that literally, and this isn't false modesty. Like I said, I got commitments due to it. I'm like… a year's worth of solid practice away from being able to teach someone. And by teach someone I mean show them the basics. And that's if I'm focusing on a single bit of magic. Which I probably can't do, because a lot of my day is just trying to survive like the rest of you."
"So what, we bring you cash and stuff, and you can teach us magic, eventually?" Jimmy asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"If you had the money for a house and a lab, why the fuck are you working here?" I asked him in turn. "I'll teach you some stuff later, maybe, when I can do it without risking turning you into a rat, or popping you like a blood balloon."
"I thought you said you couldn't do rats!" Frank said, eyes shooting wide!
"I said I can't do frogs," I argued. "And I can't… On purpose… look, magic is fucking weird," I said defensively.
Frank looked over at Jimmy, "You sure this is a good idea?" he asked, seeming even more nervous now.
"Definitely," Jimmy said, absolutely locked in. "So you can teach us magic later?'
"Eventually. When I get stuff down right," I said less than enthusiastically. "I could probably make some enchanted stuff you might be able to use earlier, if you'll front some resource costs at me," I added after a moment's consideration. "But I am genuinely new to this shit, and need practice. Teaching someone magic you haven't mastered is… bad. Well bad for me. Worse for you," I said.
That made the seemingly paranoid man slightly more considerate, "How bad?"
"You'd end up crippled," I said bluntly. "Not 'could', end up crippled. Would. Maybe if you were some kind of magic savant, with special powers that can copy stuff just by seeing it, you'd be fine, but that'll only happen if you've got some sort of special magical bloodline, blessing, or superpower you're hiding from us. For normal folks? It's like asking a first day med student to operate on you, with a dirty kitchen knife. Bad fucking idea."
"So that's it?" Frank asked, actually seeming to calm down the more I warned them about how bad it could be. Maybe because he got, I got how dangerous this stuff could be?
"That's it," I confirmed. "I basically got the magic equivalent of tuition to a medical school… well the correspondence course for it… Okay maybe just some loose textbooks- Not literal books," I clarified. "It's not that kind of magic. You get it from a ritual with a senior practitioner, which I again, am not."
"And no way we could sign up for that?" Jimmy asked, seeming frustrated.
I shrugged. "Probably a few other wizards in town, but my teacher dropped me off here, and left me high and dry."
"That's rough buddy," Frank said. "So… magic items? What kind of time and cost are we talking about?"
"I still need some practice… call it a week?" I ballparked. "In the meanwhile I can still hand out more magic fruit, but the only magical part of it is how filling it is," also its origin, obviously.
Then a thought occurred, "I can also heal scrapes and bruising. But only light injuries like that. Nothing you'd need a hospital for."
"What about that weird Ant spell? Could you cast that on me or Frank?" Jimmy interjected, seeming interested now that I was seeming compliant.
"Ah man.. I kinda wish," I said looking at Frank. "The boost is proportional to your base, so he'd probably get a lot more out of it then I would… but it's also one of those ones I can only use directly on myself."
"Ah well, magic fruit's magic fruit at least," Jimmy commented, rubbing at his stomach, and then frowning as he looked down.
"Something wrong?" I asked, a little worried I'd messed up the spell somehow.
"Nah just… weird. I'm not hungry. It was a tiny little berry but it's really like I just ate a full course meal."
"Oh, that," I said. "Yeah, there's a sort of… Disconnect between how much you chew and how full you feel. You do get used to it if you survive on them long enough." It was a ration, after all. That it tasted good at all, was basically gravy.
Huh, I wondered if I could eventually make a gravy flavored Goodberry.
"That makes sense," Jimmy nodded along. "Mastication is one of the big triggers for the brain's reward response when it comes to food. That's why chewing gum sells so well. It's a trick by big business to keep the population feel as satisfied as they would enjoying a home cooked meal with their family! Bastards… Clever bastards admittedly, but bastards, all of them!" he spat. .
"Jimmy, sometimes I think you just make up new words." Frank said with a sigh.
"Every word I say is real, and true, and you know it," The odd conspiracy nu- enthusiast said.
"Hey!" Bill called out. "Breaks over!" he said with a clear unspoken 'get back to work'.Last edited: Mar 16, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:Raven01, 84900137, brockpoltergeist and 633 othersMizuki_StoneMar 3, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 1 Part 6 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.Mar 3, 2025Add bookmark#17Part 6
The rest of our 'work shift' actually went surprisingly smooth. Truck showed up, we loaded up the crates, got paid, then moved on.
And by 'We' I mean me, Jimmy and Frank, since the pair had magnanimously decided to stick with me, and even help me find a new coat.
"And shoes," Jimmy said. "With good, warm socks, this time of year."
I looked at the Conspiracy Enthusiast, then down to his mismatched shoes.
"He ain't wrong," Frank confirmed in his friend's defense.
"Hey, I know how it looks!" Jimmy said. "I got mismatched feet! Lefty's a size eleven, righties a size thirteen! I know what I'm talking about."
"Anything else?" I asked.
"A hat," both suggested at once.
"Also a bag, backpack, whatever, big as you can get, tough as you can find," Frank suggested.
"There's lots of stuff you need," Jimmy agreed, nodding along. "Sleeping bag, blanket, first aid kit. Cash, obviously. You're covered for food at least."
"That's a big expense written off," Frank agreed.
Sounded like I was going to be living off Goodberry for the near future. Nothing unexpected there.
"Other big one's shelter," Frank said. "You got ID?"
"Nada," I replied. "I'm not even sure I legally 'exist'."
"Pfh, Lucky," Jimmy said.
Frank however looked worried. "Not lucky. What exactly do you mean by 'not exist'?" he asked me.
"I'm… technically from another world?" I said, not sure if I should be admitting this. "Still human. Actually I'm probably more human than you are genetically."
That seemed to freak out the heavily built guy even more, "What do you mean by that!?"
"Well- okay this is a long story," I said. "You ever hear of Heracles? Or the ancient Pharaohs? Demigods and all that?" I asked.
"My dad is an entirely normal deadbeat from Cleveland," Frank said at once. "He ain't no Zeus."
"Well no, but the point was, those ancient heroes? A lot of them had kids, and those kids were also special. Not as special, but stronger, healthier, prettier, generally more successful," I said.
"Survival traits!" Jimmy locked in on, at once. "So divine heritage became common heritage?" he deduced.
"Or other stuff," I agreed slowly. "The fae, aliens, metas, other powers… Most people have something interesting if you go far back enough," I explained. Happy to explain something I actually knew about this crazy world I'd been dropped into.
"So wait, you're saying everyone's a demigod?" Frank didn't look like he bought that.
"Kinda?" I said. "Not really. I mean… It's real thin. But without it people wouldn't be as tough, as strong, as pretty, It might even be part of why some people go meta or something. I don't know the details."
"So you're from a place with greater divine ancestry!?" Jimmy asked practically bouncing.
"The opposite," I said, dashing that. "I've got nothing interesting in my lineage. No inherent magic at all… which apparently made me the ideal person to cram a bunch of new magic into. That's actually why I know this stuff," I explained.
"Ooooh…" Jimmy said, easing down, before his eyes shot wide. "OOOH! That's why teaching magic is dangerous! You need to work around the inherent inhuman ancestry most people have!"
"...Pretty much?" I said. "I think. Maybe? I'm not sure on the why, I was just warned about the risk," I explained. "I mean, that does make sense. But, again… I'm a guy who was loaded with the basics. I don't actually know a huge amount about magic. I'm hoping to fix that when I can, but I'm very, very new to the whole wizard thing."
"Yeah, well… No ID means that you can't check into any decent homeless shelter," Frank said.
I winced, "I was worried about that." I had no idea about how to go about correcting it either. "Probably can't register as an interdimensional refugee either," I replied pressing my mouth into a line.
"Fuck no!" Jimmy replied vehemently. "Do you know the kind of labs they'd spook you off to? The vivisections? The gene modifying experiments? Do you want to be spliced with the DNA of a cockroach? Because that's how you end up spliced with the DNA of a cockroach!"
"Yeah, no," I agreed. "Not a fun idea. They'd probably want to move me into some other city anyway, and I kinda need to stay in Gotham for a while anyway."
"You do? What for?" Franky asked.
"I do," I replied simply.
"Okay, but why?" he asked again.
Why…? "I… magic reasons?" I said. "Like I said I don't know all the details, but it'd be bad for my health if I left. Might be a magic pressure thing. Gotham's one of the most supernaturally active cities on the continent."
"Wait, it is?" Jimmy asked. "I knew it! I knew the Waynes had some sinister reason for founding a city here! What is it? Satanic rituals? Human sacrifice? The breeding nest of the great old ones?"
"Hey!" Frank defended. "Don't just assume shit. Maybe it's not bad? Zatara was part of the Justice league and they do the magic thing right?"
"Exactly!" Jimmy defended. "Why else would a magic using hero stay around here unless there was serious bad mojo they needed to keep on top of!?" he asked, before turning to me. "Well?"
Frank also looked my way, presumably hoping for me to prove him wrong.
"...It's not technically Satan?" I said apologetically. "But… yeah. Kind of a hell mouth- or spooky mouth. Dimensional weak point," I clarified. "Of the spookier, nastier end."
"HAH!" Jimmy crowed.
"Ugh… you just had to- wait, why would you wanna hang around that!?" Frank asked, suddenly wary again.
I had no idea. "Well… for one I can probably help out with that?" I said. "I've got a decent bit of purification magic… Well, in theory. Haven't tried most of it. Also it could be a pressure thing. Large amounts of external magic helping me hold all this new magic in. Sort of like an iron lung to help with The Bends. Might also be an immunization thing, since I don't have a lot of magic exposure. Help me build up a tolerance before I start slinging around serious mojo."
I was spitballing, but all those things felt like they could be right.
"Right, because you don't have any god blood or whatever-" Jimmy said. "Hey, wait, is that why you're so weak and ugly? I mean I'm like half your size and you were barely lifting more of that crate than I was!"
My eye twitched, "Yes. Yes it is."
"Man that must suck for you- oh hey, I've got more questions!" he exclaimed excitedly.Last edited: Mar 16, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:Raven01, 84900137, SpyroFan and 683 othersMizuki_StoneMar 3, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 1 Part 7 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.Mar 3, 2025Add bookmark#19Part 7
Luckily, Frank proposed switching to a 'question for a question' format before Jimmy could get too enthusiastic. Which let me work out some handy things like 'did they know a place I could sleep for the night'.
Which, thankfully, they did. Or rather Jimmy did. Frank actually did stay in a proper homeless shelter, and was working on getting out of the whole 'homeless' situation to begin with.
Which, you know, all power to him. And not just because that could potentially open him up as a couch surfing option.
Jimmy, being the sane and rational individual that he was, had differing opinions. He apparently was vehemently against an 'on the grid' lifestyle, though he was begrudgingly willing to accept something that was part of the grid. Or rather 'a' grid. Kinda. More of a network.
"It's a boxcar," I noted, looking at the large, vaguely shipping-container-like cargo railway trailer.
"Yep! And there are dozens of them around here," Jimmy explained.
"And… no one cares if we use them? They're fully abandoned?" I asked, looking around, unable to shake the nerves I'd started getting once he led me through a hole quite deliberately cut through the chain link fence around the area.
An admittedly, very rusty and decrepit chain-link fence, but still. People who fenced off areas tended to be touchy about other people slipping through them. At least people without an invitation of some kind.
"Does anyone care? Nope!" Jimmy said with a sly, almost smug look. "Abandoned…" at this point he grimaced. "Also nope. This is more what you call 'seasonal lodgings'. We gotta clear out at the start of the next business quarter in a couple of months, but the weather should clear up by then, and no one gives a shit right now. Well, outside of Genma the security guy who swings around every odd week. And as long as no one causes any messes… Okay, there are a few conditions." he admitted.
That… weirdly made me feel more comfortable with the set up than otherwise. "But if we follow those conditions?"
"No one gives a fuck," he confirmed.
I could work with that.
"Sounds good," I said, now scouting out the surroundings with an eye more focused on appraisal than risk assessment.
It was… not bad? Like it was a big cargo car, but actually looked nicer than you'd expect from that. Vintage design, made mostly of wood by the looks of it, which was probably a good thing for helping keep the cold out. Metal construction was good for a lot of things, but thermal insulation was not one of them.
"You don't wanna go with that one," Jimmy said at once.
"Eh?" I blinked, looking over at him. "Okay, but why?"
"It's a Smith and Wayne three hundred series," Jimmy explained, before further elaborating. "Made of locally sourced timber, and constructed with extra-terrestrial instructions to contaminate its cargo with a mind altering compound that evaporates off the wood after it absorbs moisture. The compound renders anyone who becomes to exposed to it suggestable to the sort of audio frequencies you'll hear off of radio advertisements."
He said this with an entirely straight face, and serious tone of voice. Following it up with a solemn, "I know you're broke now, but trust me, you'll stay broke if you let them get to you. That's how the Waynes keep us common folk down!"
"...I see," I said, blinking. Then frowned, "Sourced from Slaughter Swamp?"
"Yep! And boy, I've got stories about that place too," he said.
"I bet," I agreed, before looking around. "Okay then… what one should I pick?"
"Well first, I gotta introduce you to the neighbors," he suggested. "You'll like Ivy- no connection to the Supervillian, Stewart, Sally, Oscar and Joe" he said, listing through names rapid fire, before suddenly stopping "Oh man. Joe!! You gotta meet Boxcar Joe!" he said, beginning to tug me eagerly further up the apparently out closed down rail line.
That name rang a bell to me. "Boxcar joe?" I asked hoping for more details.
"Yep! The Boxcar Joe! Oh man, you'll like him! He's just like you!" He exclaimed.
"A mage?" I asked, recalling a specific little bit from the internet.
"Wha- no, no." he shook his head dismissively, before giving a wide near manic grin, as he leaned in conspiratorially. "He's an alien!"
"Oh," I blinked. "Does he have an oddly well preserved couch?" I asked him.
"I knew there was something about the couch!" Jimmy exclaimed, eyes lighting up in delight. Before turning to look at me suspiciously, "Wait, how did you know about the couch? I thought you were new to this dimension?"
"I…" I paused. "Lucky guess?" I said experimentally.
Jimmy gave me a look of clear doubt.
"Okay, he might be someone I know of," I said. "Big might on that. And only in minor detail if it is him."
"You've heard about Boxcar Joe in another reality" he asked. "Is he some shadowy avatar of an outer god, here to offer up us mortals as entertainment slash food for his dark, unknowable masters?"
"No, just… kind of a guy?" I said. "One with infamously bad luck with portals? It seriously might not be the same guy," I cautioned. "'Boxcar Joe' isn't exactly a unique name," I reminded him. "And you didn't even know his title."
"He has a title!?" Jimmy demanded.
"The Magic Hobo," I replied. "Which, you know… Got me interested, because I could use some advice on that. Both the magic part, and the hobo part," I reminded him.
"Oooooh," he said, easing back on the gas finally. "Yeah, in that case, it sounds like another guy. My Boxcar Joe is probably from Mars or something. Not another dimension," he frowned. "Unless..."
"Well, easy way to check," I suggested, gesturing back in the direction he'd originally been tugging me.
"Right!" he agreed, then quickly started back down the trail.
Unfortunately, it turned out 'Boxcar Joe' was also out for the season, though he'd left his couch in the care of 'Ms. Sally' to look after, and said he might be back when 'bean season' rolled around.
Sally was nice at least. Well at first, until Jimmy started gushing about my magic.
Then things got a bit complicated.Last edited: Mar 16, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:84900137, HOLLOWRAPPER, insertname099 and 580 othersMizuki_StoneMar 3, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 2: Avoiding the Inquisition Can be Tricky Though. Part 1 View contentMizuki_StoneExperienced.Mar 3, 2025Add bookmark#25Chapter 2: Avoiding the Inquisition Can be Tricky Though
Part 1
"Out you monster! Out, OUT!" 'Kindly old Ms Sally' roared out as she swung her frying pan dangerously in my direction.
As a fun tidbit. I'd once heard that blacksmiths used to test how solid a frying pan was, by cracking an animal skull with it. And Ms Sally's frying pan looked very vintage.
"I'm going, I'm going!" I said, backing up and out of the train car as fast as I could. Which was apparently not fast enough for the old woman.
Things had started well enough. The older woman had been surprisingly kind and welcoming when Jimmy first introduced us, even offering to show me how to cook something over an open fire.
Unfortunately, they'd immediately gone downhill once Jimmy had me demonstrate why 'I didn't need to know that' skill.
"Calm down Ms Sally! Reed isn't here to hurt anyone!" Jimmy said, trying to come to my defense, while also staying out of the old woman's swinging range.
"Damned Meta! Get out! You brought a Meta to this place Jimmy!? You brought a Meta to our home!?" she scratched and took another swing as I tried to climb down from the side of the boxcar.
This time she connected, and I immediately fell out the door, crying out as something in my arm cracked.
"FUCK!" I cried out as I hit the dirt, scrambling as quick to my feet as I could on my good arm.
Did she break it? It felt numb, but I could flex my fingers- not the time.
"Out!" The old woman screamed again.
My good hand snapped open like a claw a Firebolt burning to life suspended between them, as I reared it back threateningly.
The Old woman's eyes shot wide.
"Wait wait wait!" Jimmy called out, actively diving into the doorway, blocking both of us.
"Jimmy-!" I started then stopped.
The fuck was I doing?
I let the magic die as I closed my hand instead bringing it to my winged arm, which already dealt hotter than my cantrip had burned. "I'm going! Fuck off you crazy bitch. If you chase me, you will not like what happens!" I yelled.
Which was a bluff. I was bluffing. Because fuck I did not actually want to get into that fight for all sorts of reasons.
Fuck, was my arm broken. I could flex my hand, bend my elbow. Gripping it, I pressed at it as I sped walked away.
Pain.
I hissed in hurt, but pressed further… nothing shifted. But I'd heard… maybe she put a crack into it. Hairline fracture? Fuck, I had no ID for any doctor to check-
Also, this was America. I'd actually probably be worse off going to the hospital. Who knows what they'd do to me if they knew I didn't have any money? Make me pay with a kidney? Okay, that was probably too far, but cops might be involved, and that could get very bad with my lack of a legal identity.
I checked behind me to make sure she wasn't chasing me, as I ducked to the side for cover just in case she pulled an even more lethal kind of iron.
Fuck. That was bad. I should have expected that. Really should have expected that. Of fucking course, not everyone was going to react well to the wizard thing. I mean even Frank had been kinda freaked out by it.
I exhaled sharply once, then brought my breath under control before it could get really rough.
Okay, could I fix this? Maybe? I needed some place safer to do my little Blessing ritual though. It'd help with the pain levels at least… well as long as it lasted. Probably wouldn't fix it entirely.
I let out a sharp barking laugh. I was in a world of superheroes and my first serious injury came from a little old lady with a frying pan. That was hilarious.
I took a couple more breaths then started moving again quickly. Heading… honestly I wasn't sure yet? Down the tracks for now. I couldn't stay here. This clearly wasn't going to be a good place to stay.
There was a sudden pit in my gut. Something bad. Fear? No, not fear. I was afraid. Adrenaline from my injury, but it wasn't that- My injury, maybe it wasn't that bad?
I grabbed at my arm and felt a flair of pain, testing it again. Still no shift in bone.
Fuck. Okay. Not that bad. Hairline fractures at worse, probably just bruising. I could fix that. I could heal that with what magic I had right now. I just… Needed to get some space, find a safe spot,
The pit grew. My feet stopped. Where was I going? Out into the wilderness? Bright idea that, really clever move. I'd die of exposure even faster out there, even if I was picked up by someone on a passing train, where would that get me? Nowhere. Back where I was in the best possible scenario.