"Focus please," I interrupted him.
"Right, sorry. Where was I?" he asked. "Frank! Frank passed on the message from Irwin. He'd actually been asking about you earlier too apparently? But that was just about more work."
"And you don't think this is about work," I said mouth thinning.
"I mean, it could just be more work, but I already told Frank you had a busted wing the first time a job came up," He explained. "Nah, it's gotta be about the magic! I mean, Irwin's a nice guy for a recruiter. The whole hiring guys down on their luck thing was his idea. That's why Cobblepot's got him working as an intermediary with the local Goonion. But even if he's 'nice', no suit's that much of a bleeding heart. It's gotta be an angle."
Cobblepot, that name rang a bell, and in a way that felt entirely opposite to Doctor Thompkins had. Unspecified flashes of danger.
I also got a ping from 'Goonion' but that was more… neutral? A vibe of 'oh, so that's a thing', with zero context to it.
Either way, not what I needed to focus on.
"So I need to go to ground," I said, frowning. "No wait, if I do that, will you be in trouble?" I asked him. "End up being asked a bunch of questions they won't take no answer to?"
"Pff, what? Me? Nah," he blew it off. "No one listens to me, even if everything I say is one hundred percent accurate! I mean, even you only half believe me, don't think I don't know!"
"I'm serious Jimmy," I said. "Cobblepot… there's something bad about him right?"
Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in surprise, before he grimaced. "Yeah, there is… He's… bad man. Like Wayne bad. Maybe even worse."
My eyes widened at that, "Worse than the Waynes." I mean, they probably were, but Jimmy saying that…
"The Waynes at least bother to pretend that they're good, law-abiding citizens." Jimmy explained. "The Cobblepots? Well, even back when they were a family and not one scary crazy guy, they barely put in the effort the Falcones did to try to look legitimate. Murder, extortion, blackmail, kidnapping, smuggling drugs, smuggling people, smuggling fucking kryptonite. There ain't a crook, gangster or politician in town they don't have a hand on, even if not all of them feel it."
He looked at me more seriously. "Now… you sure you can't leave town?"
"Not an option," I said. It was pretty much inconceivable to me.
"Crap," he grimaced, scratching frantically at the back of his head. "I'm not sure what else to do. I mean it's the fucking Penguin."
And like that another deluge of information hit. Cobblepot, Penguin. Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. One of Batman's oldest rogues, one of the few who wasn't completely crazy.
Well, outside of generally being a vengeful psychopath with varying degrees of megalomania. Some mild, largely functional, who eventually settled into a more passive, middleman role.
Someone who had someone's entire family killed in front of him for laughing in his direction. Not at him. In his direction. With him knowing full well it wasn't actually towards him. That was still infuriating enough to set him off.
And by the description, by the way Jimmy acted… This was not one of the nicer versions of him.
Fuck.
"Maybe…" I said, mouth dry. "We could get the Bat involved somehow?" I asked. "I mean he normally handles Cobblepot when he goes too far, right?"
"Yeah, sure, set the boogeyman on the other boogeyman," Jimmy said sarcastically… before pausing. "Wait, actually, that's genius!" He praised, then frowned "But how though?"
I wracked my brain for information. I knew stuff about Batman. I knew a lot of stuff about Batman actually, more than I knew about Doctor Thompkins and The Penguin combined in raw data but…
I blinked my eyes, reaching up to rub at my forehead. I'd nearly blanked out just from trying to sparse how much of that data was missing. What I could see. What I knew now and knew I could know was huge, again, more than the two combined, but it was having… I dunno, being able to read one random sentence out of every other paragraph in War and Peace compared two two one page blurbs. I knew who Batman was. I knew who his enemies were. That he was part of the Justice League, he was friends/allies with… Doctor Thompkins and…
I remembered a few battles. I remembered some of the gadgets. The cape, the look, the batarangs, incredible skill in fighting, stealth, deduction and….
Fuck.
"You okay man?" Jimmy asked.
"Just a headache," I exhaled, deciding to stop pushing at that for now. "Right, Batman… could be an option? We'll get back to that. For now… It's Irwin who wants to talk to me right? Not Penguin directly? Not yet?"
"That's what Frank said," Jimmy replied. "But you gotta know-"
"I get it, but maybe…" I paused. "Penguin's not going to wanna go somewhere low class," Probably. "Could arrange a meeting… somewhere. Maybe buy some time? Or talk them out of whatever's got their interest? I mean, I'm not exactly Zatara. What the fuck would someone like him want with a complete neophyte like me anyway?" I needed to figure that out if I couldn't dodge the attention entirely.
I then frowned. "But what if Irwin brings some friends who just grab me and bring me somewhere he'd prefer," I said, poking a hole in my own idea.
"Maybe somewhere things ain't going to start at least?" Jimmy suggested. "I mean, if you actually want to meet him to buy time or whatever… There are some good spots for that. Neutral ground, places even Penguin respects," he suggested.
"I don't want to get involved in any of this shit," I grumbled. "I have one hundred Cantrips to master, a busted arm to heal, and so many other problems I can't even count them. I don't have time for capes and robbers bullshit."
Jimmy looked at me helplessly holding out open arms in a gesture that he wasn't exactly flush with options either.
"Okay," I exhaled. "We'll keep brainstorming on this… Maybe talk to Doctor Thompkins. She's a neutral figure. She's gotta know some tricks for handling this kind of thing."
If I couldn't reach out to the local superheroes, I'd just have to place my faith in one of the regular, everyday sort of hero instead.
Oh fuck, I was so in over my head in this place. Like ReplyReport Reactions:84900137, insertname099, Uncommonruler and 512 others
Part 2
Less than an hour later I was down at the clinic.
"Cobblepot is asking for you," Doctor Thompkins said, looking at me like I'd just pulled out a live hand grenade.
"Technically Irwin, but he apparently works for Cobblepot," I said. "And since I can't think of a damned thing he'd want to talk to me about as a person… It's probably the magic thing. And I don't think he's dumb enough not to have brought that to his boss' attention."
"Irwin," she replied and I could all but see her sorting through some mental files. "Irwin Restifo?" she asked me.
I blinked, "Uh… never got his last name, older guy, salt and pepper hair, well-kept mustache, built like well… a Mafia legbreaker."
"That's him," she said, nodding along having clearly expected the answer. "If it's Irwin then it could just be him. He's the sort to confirm something with his own eyes before he'll report it. Oswald seems to like him, so he gives him a degree of autonomy. Probably just so Irwin doesn't have to tell him about anything that he knows might set him off."
She said the name Oswald not so much like a curse, but still laden with a great deal of emotions, most of them negative. There was a lot of bitterness to her voice, also some scorn, but also a bit of sadness. You didn't need to be an expert to tell there was some history there.
"So Irwin doesn't tell Cobblepot anything that'll set Cobblepot off?" I asked to make sure I was getting things right.
"Oswald knows he has a temper, and that indulging in it can," she snorted in disgust. "Become an overly expensive indulgence." she explained. "So he has a few people he trusts to keep some interactions… out of sight and mind."
I blinked in surprise at that. "He has people he trusts that much?"
She sighed in reply. "If there is anything Oswald has always managed to be, it's surprising," she said, almost lamentingly. "Just rarely in a good way."
"Still," I said, making a gesture. Even with that in mind it seemed like a bit of a stretch.
"Oh I'm sure he has people watching them for him," she explained. "He was always skilled at that. Turning people against one another. But that's beside the point. If Iriwn says he wants to meet you, it's probably going to be him, at first."
I felt a breath of relief at that. "That's good… Jimmy already headed off to try and find Frank so I could talk with him first. He can probably help confirm things."
She frowned. "Franky Rayes. That boy… I told him not to get caught up in this sort of mess."
"I mean, he seems to be trying to get out of it?" I said in Frank's defense. "I think he's applying to some sort of work-study thing? Jimmy disapproved, but, well…" I made another gesture.
"He better be trying," she said firmly. "I've seen far too many good boys end up becoming stupid men who end up bleeding out on my table. Or out on some street corner."
She then shot me a look as she returned to the huge pile of notes on her table, "That goes for you too Mr. 'Natural Medicine'. Here," she tossed something to me.
I almost fumbled it, barely managing to pin it to my stomach with my good arm before carefully shifting around to get a grip without jostling my bad arm too much. "What's…"
"I asked a family friend for a favor," she explained. "There was an old 'Massage' clinic a few doors down. Closed down and was resold through a police auction a few months ago. Should work fine for your 'crystal healing' clinic," she explained.
What.
"What… that's… This is… This is way too much," I said. Trying to look through what I now realized were a bunch of legal papers.
This was crazy!
"Can I even-I probably can't sign any of this! I don't even have a legal identity, you know!?" I told her.
She rolled her eyes, "Relax. It's in my name. If you keep it down to donations or are paid through me it's technically artistic performance," she commented. "And I mean by donation, not 'donations' in quotation marks. I run a free clinic, you can't expect me to pay you wild amounts of money."
"No of course- I- ugh-" I stopped, held up a finger. "One second. Need to reboot my brain from all of this."
She snorted, this time with a smirk.
"Okay, that's… I cannot thank you enough. Of course I'll follow any rules you have," I agreed at once. "But… If I can ask, why?" This was crazy generous, even if I wasn't technically being given legal ownership over anything.
She raised an eyebrow at that. "You think I want to deal with a bunch of idiots bleeding out on my nice beds?"
She gestured out to the medical bed again. "I'd be perfectly happy if there was no need for anyone to do a job like this. But there is a need, and the job needs to be done. If you can lighten the load off my old shoulders? It's a favor well spent." She snorted. "Certainly better than seeing some new lunatic in a costume holding up a bank."
I'd be offended if I wasn't so ridiculously grateful. Also, you know, Gotham.
"Okay… but… if this is all in your name, what's all this then?" I asked, trying to thumb through the pages one handed without making a mess, which, even with practice was not an easy thing.
"Zoning laws, busking laws, the start of what you need to fix that whole 'no identity' problem you have, and a worker agreement," she said to me bluntly. "I might not be giving you a shop, but I am giving you a job. And I expect you to read through that and sign all the relevant parts of it."
"Right, of course," I agreed. Then let out a sudden hiss between my teeth in revelation.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing, nothing at all," I said, since I certainly wasn't going to explain to her I was annoyed that my anti-paperwork Cantrip was out of order.
There are some bits of magic you just, do not share the existence of, at least not to people of certain professions if you don't have the ability to immediately share the wealth.
Part 3
Needless to say, I started reading through all my new homework as I waited on Frank to arrive. It was… Honestly? Rather illuminating. Apparently my legal status and position were a lot less precarious than I'd originally feared. Still not super great, but not nearly as bad I'd feared… probably.
DC had some pretty wild court rulings in the past. One case involving Robotman in particular came to mind. But maybe that hadn't happened here? Or had ended up overruled? I still needed to do a lot of research. And not just on what sort of variation of the DC universe I was in, but also well… normal paperwork things.
Like what the hell I was supposed to enter in as by 'place and date of birth' when I was technically from the future. Or nationality when the Canada of this world both wasn't exactly a perfect match of my own, and had zero records of my existence.
Well… For the date, I could just run the math comparing my age to the local calendar. I'd still need to ballpark a little, but it'd make a lot more sense than trying to use what it was back home, since this world was still in the nineties (if not for much longer). That could work.
For location… Tricky. I didn't even know if the locations I grew up in existed here. 'Canada' existed here at least, which was more than some countries could claim, but there were a lot of towns and cities different from back home. Maybe there was an 'other' or 'unknown' option?
I really hoped I wouldn't need a lawyer for this. I mean, things seemed simple enough, but I also knew that the law could be a difficult river to navigate, even when you stuck to the metaphorical shallows. Lawyers could charge the rates they did for good reason.
And, speaking of legal complications… the door to the clinic opened and Frank walked in, looking about as nervous as a long tailed cat who'd walked into a rocking chair factory.
His eyes locked onto me, and he walked over, quickly at first, then slowing. "Hey, uh… Jimmy said you needed to talk?" he asked tentatively.
How a guy that heavily built could look that nervous, I could only imagine. Probably something to do with the local flavor.
"Funny thing, he said the same about you," I said to Frank. "Or rather that you'd been asking about me for Irwin?"
His eyes opened in momentary… panic, maybe? Or it could just be general alarm. Frank had been wound pretty tight back when I first met him with Jimmy, and if anything the current circumstances seemed to have him even more on edge. "I-Irwin- OH!" he relaxed a little. "Oh right, uh… Shit. Look man, I'm just the messenger. That was more just me passing things on."
"Well… could you pass on more details?" I asked him. "I'd really appreciate knowing what exactly he wants. Or as close to it as I can get."
He rubbed his hands, "I mean… what's there to say? Irwin wants a meet with you. I mean, he didn't say why, but…" he gestured at me then wiggled his fingers. "You probably know why, right?"
Yeah, that was….
"I figured," I said. "I'm not sure why, I mean, yeah I'm magic, but I'm basically party tricks magic, not 'turn lead into gold, make you live forever' magic." Not without a lot of practice and figuring out the problem with my unstable cantrips anyway
"Well, yeah I know that. You're like a complete beginner with this stuff right? But The Fucking Penguin doesn't know that. He just sees someone weird operating in his turf," he said, blatantly worried about this.
"I'm not op-" I considered the papers in my hand. "It's not like that. I'm not making any actual money yet. I'm not even aiming to make any real money at all. I can't even afford new underwear damn it."
"Again, I know that," he said. Then looked off to the side conspiratorially, like he didn't really want to say what he was going to say next. "Look man, if you need an out, I might know a few people. Some aren't exactly… Nice people, but they'll protect their own."
"For what? Berries?" I asked him.
"For a favor or two," he replied. "I mean, you're not anything now sure, but you said it yourself. It's like your first day at magic school… but you still got into magic school. You said you could make some kinda magic gizmo in a few weeks with some money right?"
"Yeah, but nothing really impressive," I said. "I mean I could make some stuff that's pretty blatantly supernatural, but not a lot that's really useful. Not if you've already got money," I said. Stuff like Blink, Hideaway, or even some of my usable Cantrips could be contemporary to the local super-science, but to be blunt I wasn't going to hand that shit out to 'not nice' people unless I had no other choice.
"Even something like that's got value," he pressed as he looked at me dead on. "I mean… you gotta think on your options right now."
I matched his gaze for a moment, and he shrunk. "Not that I'm telling you what to do!" he said quickly. "I mean like… no fireballs please?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not fireballing anyone. My 'fireball' spell is more like a ranged cigarette lighter," I explained yet again. "And not a real long range at that."
At least until I fixed my magic issue. It actually had a decent range, I'd gotten a sort of… Not practice…
"It's still fucking magic," Frank said interupting my thoughts, though he didn't meet my eyes. "Novelty sells, and rich people are crazy. Do you have any idea what they'll pay for a painting? Selling stuff like that might not be strictly legal? I dunno, but it's like… I dunno, that could be an option. It might even be why The Penguin's interested to begin with."
That… was a point, dammit. And if anyone in Gotham was going to know what the exact monetary value of 'exotic artifacts' on the underground market would be, it was probably The Penguin. Well, him or Catwoman, but most versions of her wouldn't care about how much money she could make off of it.
Would Irwin know that kind of thing was valuable though? That… That might be a gamble I might need to take. If nothing else I might be able to warn him off of it. He seemed the sort of person who could be reasonable about this kind of thing.
"Oi, ease up," I told Frank, who still wasn't meeting my eyes. "I already told you I wasn't going to fireball you, and I don't do toads."
"Ri-right, sorry just… I've been doing some research," he said. Looking up for a moment. "Magic can be some serious shit. I mean, yeah at least half of it's fake but… It's scary stuff, man. Blocking out the sun. Turning entire islands full of men to pigs."
"That's superhero level stuff," I said, raising my hand in a stop gesture while shaking my head. "That's the battlemech to my pinto. Even when I get good I'm not pulling stuff like that off." At least, not without help, or all in one casting. Cantrip magic was horrible for that sort of 'grand work' casting, it was more about reliable low end stuff. Highlight on reliable.
…Which, given half my cantrips were unstable, kind of just showed how bad at this whole magic thing I was.
Frank gave me a dubious look.
"Well, I mean I got some decent tricks," I said, and I made a healing Goodberry to show it. Tangerine this time.
Frank patiently waited for me to finish, seeming surprised when he saw just what I'd produced with the spell. "Dat's… a lot bigger than the last time you did that."
"Thanks, I've been practicing," I said, peeling the conjured fruit with some difficulty. "It's less efficient by mass than the little ones, but the casting time's the same, and you can share them at this size." I said splitting off a bit and offering it.
"And it's just food still?" he asked, a bit wary as he reached out, but also clearly interested enough to accept the offer.
"These ones have healing properties," I explained before he bit in. "Not great ones, obviously," I gestured to my broken arm. "Mostly more cuts and scrapes… I think they're helping a bit though," I said popping a slice into my mouth first to show they were safe.
He did the same. "Tastes good at least."
"Thanks," I grinned, then exhaled, as my good feels vanished as I recalled the trouble I'd gotten into because of it.
"How'd that happen anyway?" he asked, pointing to my arm.
"Well, of course, not that I obviously have any room to judge, but it began when Jimmy and I stopped by the train yard, and he opened his big mouth…"
Part 4
After we caught up and finished sidetracking… Frank eventually agreed to set up a meet with Irwin at an appropriately neutral location. More specifically 'The Bar'. What kind of bar, you ask? The kind that didn't have a name, and that you should never, ever visit on friday afternoon unless you wore a costume. That bar.
I didn't even realize DC had a Bar like that. Well, outside of the Oblivion Bar, which was more a thing for magic users.
And that I did not have an invitation to, being the scrublord that I was.
Still, I guess it made sense? Supervillians had to have their weekly poker night somewhere.
I tried to polish up as best I could for the meeting. Everyone chipped in a bit. Ms. Thompkins let me use the clinic's shower to clean myself up a bit. Washed up, got the funk of several day's work off me. Shave off the scruff growing on my face, even shampoo my hair, which was a damned relief at this point.
Jimmy leant me a bit of money and helped me pick out a nicer looking sweater, and showed me a reliable laundromat. He also got me a bus pass to get to the proper end of town and back. In addition to telling me a whole bunch of stories about the place we'd be meeting at, which I took half seriously, and a list of strict dos and don'ts to follow while I was there. That I took fully seriously.
And Frank? Well Frank actually followed me to the place, since he'd apparently been there a few times before.
As for the place itself? Well… it was certainly a place. The sign to the bar was wordless, just the image of three wooden monkeys emblazoned onto a plaque over the door, one covering their eyes, one their ears, the last its mouth. A title and a promise in one.
Frank knocked on the door. An eye slot slid open, and with a muttered passphrase, or maybe just introduction, we were let in to take the place in.
It was… smokey. Simple, but well kept. In a weird way it reminded me of Dr. Thompkins free clinic in that everything was either solid or disposable. An impressive looking dark wood bar, in front of a wide open room mostly filled with cheap poker tables.
Tables that were more often than not occupied.
Frank elbowed me and nodded subtly in the direction of one of the more clearly distinct groups. A bunch of guys wearing white and gray bodysuits and armor. Well, 'armor'; it looked more like hockey pads, or maybe football armor. Each marked with a card suit in varying quantities outlined like playing cards front and back.
"Didn't know the Royal Flush gang was back in town," He muttered loud enough for me to hear. "Out of towners… they might be trouble."
I turned my head to look over at another group that was over in the far corner. And they were distinctly 'a' group, despite being a really eclectic mix of appearances. Some of them wearing worn down suits styled out of the 1800s, others in bright colorful jumpers and suspenders, yet more in animal costumes, and in a couple cases, playboy bunny outfits, plus a wide mix of all the above.
"The Wonderland Gang," Frank identified them for me, looking worried. "Not seeing any cards… Hatter must be on one of his more lucid kicks. Dat an't good."
I spotted one more group in the middle, and strangely, they actually seemed to be the one people were giving the widest berth. I said strangely because they… kinda looked average? Just a bunch of people dressed like construction workers, complete with a whole bunch of toolboxes at their feet.
"The Carpenter's crew," Frank again filled in. "Splinter of the Wonderland Gang. Ever wonder where supervillains get their fancy hideouts? Mostly them."
Which explained the wide berth. No one wanted to give a bunch of contractors the chance to raise their rates.
Frank glanced over to the bar before back to them, "I'm kinda surprised to see them here though. They haven't exactly been welcome here since the Scab wars."
"The What wars?" I asked, completely befuddled.
He looked at me for a moment in a clear 'what are you an idiot?' expression, before seeming to realize who he was addressing and all but cowering back. "I- er-ah- It-it's kinda hard to explain. I uh… I'm not sure we have the time-" he said nearly panicking.
I held up my good hand to him open in a placating gesture. "It's fine! If it's not urgent, it can wait," I assured, scanning over the crowd. "You're doing me more than enough of a favor getting me here."
"Fuhgeddaboudit," he said at once. "You're Jimmy's friend, and you wanna help at the clinic right? Just remember me when those magic lessons start up."
"That I can do," I agreed. "Now where… ah," There. In one of the other corners I saw Irwin, still in his clear mafia styled, charcoal gray suit, complete with hat now. And he wasn't alone, though it took me a moment to recognize Bill, since he wasn't in a suit, but rather in a simple black T-shirt, jacket, jeans and baseball cap combo.
Some unreachable part of the back of my brain itched.
More importantly, they'd also spotted us, and were already looking in our direction. Or Irwin was, at least, Bill was messing with a small device- a pager. He was fiddling with his pager, because nineties.
I also noted Irwin didn't look particularly happy.
Fuck, were we late!?
"Too late now," I muttered, feet moving towards the pair, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute over a mixture of things I remember The Penguin doing to people who disrespected him and overused Godfather quotes.
In fact, I was so overwhelmed I almost missed Frank saying, "Is that Bill!?" In clear alarm.
Alarm which meant that Bill being here was not planned. Alarm that meant Bill being here was a major disruption to our already shaky plan.
…Ah…Complete panic, my old friend. Had it really been so few days since we last met?
"Is that a problem?" I spoke in a soft but clear and sharp tone as my emotional center imploded in on itself, and my mind suddenly became very objective focused.
"Its- Ah- Eh- I mean- Uh…" Frank said, floundering as he matched step with me.
"If you need to leave to secure your own safety, do so," I said, ensuring I kept my voice clear but quiet enough that it would not travel far. "You have done more than enough guiding me here."
"I uh…" he said, still walking beside me. I did not look at his expression, instead I remained focused on the pair ahead of us.
Irwin's look of annoyance had shifted; he was still frowning but it was a different frown. It was highly probable my change in posture and expression was alarming him. This could potentially provoke a violent reaction. Should I attempt a smile? No, in my current state that would be more likely to incite a negative reaction. I had to wait until I calmed down before I could interact in a friendly manner.
Frank was still walking with me. "You should leave. I am unable to guarantee your safety if the situation becomes violent."
"Wait, waitwaitwait, what the heck are you planning?" he asked me.
"I am not planning," I replied still locked in on Irwin. "I am panicking."
Which, all things considered, was probably not the best way to enter into a meeting like this.
Part 5
"Look just… Okay, first? slow down!" he suggested sharply.
"Understood," I agreed, then slowed my pace, which hadn't changed from when I'd first set forward. That had been a bad move, but as I'd said, I wasn't exactly in a great headspace at the time.
"What the hell, Reed?" he asked in a quiet tone.
"I just told you I am panicking," I repeated, eyes still on Irwin.
"What do you mean you're panicking! You don't look like you're panicking" Frank said from my side.
"I am aware nevertheless that is the state I currently am in," it was just how I was wired. When I hit the point of overwhelming anxiety, more often than not my emotions would just 'shut off' rather than the more neurotypical state of 'running wild'. Which was a great defense mechanism to keep you functional if you're caught by a house-fire and/or mountain lion, but did not change the fact my mindset was still heavily compromised.
Moreover, from experience I also knew not only was I going to be making a lot of very, very stupid calls in the near future, I was apparently going to appear alarmingly uncanny while I did so. At least until the adrenaline wore off.
"Okay? But why are you being so- Look, can you just stop?" he asked.
I stopped, my eyes still focused on Irwin.
"What the hell, man?" Frank asked,
"I explained as best as I currently am able," I said back to him not shifting my position. "Assistance would be welcome."
"What?" Frank said from beside me. "I… uh… okay you know what. Sure, just… be cool and let me do the talking."
"Understood. I will do so as best as I am capable of at this time," I replied. This was good. Frank was underconfident, which was not ideal, however he was likely more able to handle the situation than I currently was.
"Alright, fine. Just… remember you owe me for this," Frank said, as he started moving.
"Understood," I repeated, as I matched his pace following behind him.
We approached the table, and Irwin looked between me and Frank with an elevated eyebrow, to signal his curiosity. "Frank, I see you brought Reed here?"
"Yeah, just… give him a minute," Frank suggested, taking a seat. "I think the situation's overwhelming him, or he's in a trance or something."
"I'll order a round," Irwin said in response to this. Which was likely a good sign.
"I think Mr. Reed just wants to get this over with," Frank said.
I turned to face him as he spoke, which made him flinch back, "Unless I am mistaken?" he said to me.
"If you believe that would be for the best," I replied. I had told him I'd follow his lead; his read of the situation remained likely better than mine. The circumstances were not ideal, but backing out may provoke negative responses.
"Hello to you too," Bill said, drawing my attention to him. He was likely being sarcastic, but I couldn't be certain.
"Take the drinks," Irwin suggested, drawing my attention back to him as he raised his hand. Likely to single a waiter.
"I would prefer something non-alcoholic," I clarified, before the order could be made. Immediately realizing that might have been a mistake.
Follow franks lead
"What, you Mormon or something?" Irwin asked.
"You know, If the wizard doesn't want anything that'll lower inhibitions, maybe it's a bad idea to talk him into one?" Bill interjected.
The back of my brain itched again.
"Might be a good idea, sir," Frank said in support.
Irwin seemed to consider that, then shrugged, "Suit yourself. Noonan's actually serves a pretty good Virgin Mary too."
Not my preferred drink order but I was not going to protest. Flavor was irrelevant at this time, and opening my mouth would likely just lead to me shoving my feet into it.
"So Frank, how's your cousin?" Bill asked suddenly, which seemed off topic.
"Still in recovery," Frank replied, apparently knowing which cousin Bill was asking about.
"Seems to be a bit of that going around," Bill responded, nodding in my direction while continuing to look in my direction.
At which point a lady in a very short flared skirt, and chief's apron approached the table, "What are you having?" she asked.
"Three beers and a virgin mary," Irwin ordered. "And something for yourself," he added, sliding another bill across the table. Apparently you paid up front in this establishment.
Given the clientele, this was likely a prudent business decision.
"So this is the guy you're here to meet? Him?" Bill asked Irwin.
"That's him," Irwin confirmed. "Gotham's newest wizard, or something like that. I got my hands on one of the fruits he was passing out. Thing withered up and vanished into nothing six hours after I got my hands on it. No core, no juice, seeds, not even any dust."
Ah. I had worried someone might notice that. The odds had seemed manageable, most people tossed the fruits shortly after eating them, and there hadn't been anything particularly irregular about them on inspection or taste. Even being oddly filling wasn't that odd, but I had been aware of the possibility of detection.
"Riiight, Cool cool cool." Bill said, drawing the first word out before rounding on me. "So who the hell are you and what do you want?"
"Well," Frank started.
Bill cut him off, "You're not who I was talking to, Frank." His tone was annoyed, stressed. Stressed? That was a vulnerability I could potentially exploit. Also a danger point.
He was also weirdly familiar.
"I was told Irwin wanted to see me," I said in explanation.
Bill rolled his eyes, "Not here here. Here as in Gotham. Why, are you, in Gotham," he clarified.
"Part of my training requires me to spend the remainder of the year within Gotham City," I explained, that was all there was to it.
"Alright… can I ask why?" The man asked.
"What, that's not enough for you?" Irwin asked. "He just explained it. It's part of his training. He's magic, you know that crap doesn't make a lick of sense on the best of days."
"Yeah, but why Gotham?" Bill asked.
"Gotham is home to several rare or unique metaphysical properties mostly of a malevolent but dormant nature." I outlined. "I've theorized that at least one or more of these factors is likely why it was selected as a location."
"There, you see- wait, what did ya just say?" Irwin asked. "Are you saying Gotham's fucking cursed or something?"
"You say that like it's surprising," Bill chimed in, having apparently already accepted my answer. "I mean, it's fucking Gotham!"
"The city is both literally and functionally cursed," I confirmed.
"And what, you came to do something about it?" Irwin asked me, seeking further clarification. "That's what you were sent here to do?"
"I was not informed of any specific or general goal relating to exploiting or affecting the metaphysical health or stability of Gotham," I denied. "Given local conditions, and my likelihood of significantly affecting them. It is more likely to be a form of acclimatization training or conditioning."
"'Likely', meaning you're not sure if you're supposed to or not, even if they didn't tell you," Irwin said. "Also, calm the fuck down, kid. We're not going to shoot you, this is just a friendly meeting."
"Well, friendly for you," Bill chimed in.
Irwin shot a look at Bill.
I blinked, my brain temporarily derailing entirely. "Is this not a recruitment attempt?"
"Well, you've broken an arm since the last time I saw you, and you weren't exactly impressive back then," Irwin said. "I got a bit worried when I heard you were a Meta who'd moved into our turf, figured it might be a new name feeling out for some territory… But now I think you're just some weirdo in an even weirder situation," he explained. "I've met that type before.
I noted he did not deny my statement. The way he phrased it suggested he was doing so through implication, but I could not be certain.
"Besides, I heard you're planning on working with Doctor Thompkins?" Irwin said.
So he had heard about even that. "That's the eventual plan," I confirmed, seeing no point in denying it.
Also my brain seemed to be defrosting finally, which was good.
Irwin nodded along at that. "Right, there are some ponds even The Penguin won't poach from," he helpfully informed me. "Unless you're asking for more work?"
"I'm sitting right here," Bill said dryly.
Irwin shrugged. "It never hurts to ask."
"You know exactly how much it can hurt to ask!" Bill shot back, irritated.
"So, what, this is it? We're cool?" Frank asked. "As long as Reed works for Doctor Thompkins no one's going to prod any further."
"Well…" Bill trailed off.
"Not from my end of things," Iriwn stated. "Boss has some history with Doctor Thompkins. As long as you're working for her and following her policies, we'll stay hands off."
The way he said that implied that those conditions were important to maintaining that agreement.
"But there's other sources of trouble," Frank said, glancing around.
"I mean…. It's fucking Gotham?" Bill said. "Come on Frank, you grew up here."
Frank glanced at me, then back to Bill. "And if we wanted to negotiate for say, Goonion protection?"
I looked at Frank. Why was he asking for that? That wasn't part of the plan.
No nevermind. Don't think about it. He said to follow his lead. Follow his lead.
Bill cocked an eyebrow at me. "You fucking with me? You know that's not how it works. It's The First Universal Henchman's Union, the key word there being Henchmen."
Bill from the Goonion. Bill The Henchmen from The First Universal Henchman Union.
The itch in the back of my head finally unclogged into a bunch of… short online parody skits?
That was it? That was my knowledge of this- actually, wait, there was some good stuff here.
Frank continued while I was undergoing my internal revelation. "And he's Henching for Doctor Thompkins… kinda."
"Henching is a very different thing from that!" Bill argued.
"Ah," I interjected. "Mr… Bill"
"It's just Bill, Reed," he corrected.
"Bill," I repeated. "Have I mentioned several of the medical spells I am working on are for the purpose of repair and regeneration of… bones," I said, reaching over to touch my damaged arm.
Bill stopped talking and looked directly at me.
The Waitress showed back up with our drinks. "Here you go hun. You want the order menu too?" she asked, setting down a beer in front of everyone else, and a very red vegetable based concoction in front of me.
"I think we're mostly done," Irwin started.
"Now, let's not be so hasty," Bill interjected.
Part 6
As negotiations started, I gradually eased back into a more 'human' state of mind. Which was good, because while Frank did his best as my advocate, Bill was almost as insistent to talking to me directly as Irwin had been.
Which was bad, because I had no idea what the hell I was negotiating for.
But it was good because I think I kinda got it anyway? They weren't going to give me a security detail or anything. But what I did get was… more than I'd originally hoped for.
Outside of the basic 'Random mooks will know not to mess with you', they also agreed to pass on a bit of warning if/when one of their bosses up and decided to go ahead and do that anyway. Which was pretty big since, you know, the Gothamite brand of Costumes Crazies tended to really highlight the 'crazy' end of the spectrum, but was largely something they already did for Doctor Thompkins.
Just, you know, slightly more formalized. Which was good since, unlike the Doc, I didn't have a long history of reputation and powerful backers to make other people hesitate.
They'd also tip me off if they heard about any non-Union affiliated cape or criminal was directing heat my way, but that was apparently something they'd already do out of general principle. The Goonion was still a Union after all.
Frank had pushed a bit further, hoping to get me access to some of the Goonion's resources in terms of legal protection and 'sufficiently legitimate' paperwork, which Bill had seemed open to.
Needless to say, that was something that would have been incredibly tempting a few days ago. Back, before Doctor Thompkins had handed me that bundle of legal documents that had actually outlined my options in more direct print.
As things were? With it looking more and more like I might be able to actually manage that legally, I was a bit… wary of being on the retainer lists of a bunch of criminal law firms.
Which might seem like a silly concern. I mean, it wasn't illegal or anything, and I'd already done some dubiously legal work for them. However, being on a retainer like that? That would be hard, legal records of my existence. Some of the first legal records of my existence at that. And I felt worried someone might track them down with less than benevolent intent.
That said… Having friends in low places certainly wasn't something I was against. And I certainly was willing to make use of them for some benefits.
Like the immaculately prepared steak sandwich I'd been handed for dinner. With fries.
"Thish is so fruaking goob," I said between bites, pacing myself as carefully as I could while my inner carnivore demanded I devour the thing whole.
"It's pretty good," Irwin agreed, Bill humming some agreement.
I swallowed. "I've been eating nothing but Goodberries all week," I said, licking my lips. "I mean, they're fine from a health standpoint. Supernaturally good for you even, but most of them are tiny and disproportionately filling. My stomach is full, but my brain says 'you haven't really eaten anything but a snack in over a week'."
Some of my progress with the Cantrip had helped a bit with that. Even in addition to adding variety the larger fruits were, paradoxically, less nutritious by mass, even if they offered more overall per casting. One full meal per half an apple, which was at least a little easier for my mind to accept.
Healing fruit helped a lot more, since I could intentionally cut out the filling aspect of them entirely, leaving them as functionally nothing but a fruit shaped/textured health potion, but those were both new, and well… Still fucking fruits.
"Sounds rough," Irwin said dryly.
"I realize it could've been worse," I said soberly. Idly stirring my Virgin Mary, which I had only taken a few sips from. "I fully understand that my abilities leave me a much better position than most folks on the street. Even without factoring in stuff like Doctor Thompkins' generosity, or your own understanding."
Was I sucking up to them? A little bit. These were dangerous people after all, and while I didn't like how much weakness I'd already shown with my earlier freak out, the chance of building a proper 'strong front' had long since sailed.
I wasn't about to roll over for them, though.
"So how did you get into the magic game?" Irwin asked me. "You're new at it, right? Got sent here as part of your 'education'?"
"It's a long story," I said, measuring how much I was willing to tell them. "Before I talk about it at all, I gotta ask you a question. What do you know about magic?" I asked him.
Irwin gave a look that suggested surprise, but quickly recovered, playing it cool. "Well, I've heard a lot of rumors."
"Good idea to listen to those, bad one to treat them all as true," I nodded along. "But, to tell you the truth? The weird ones? The really outlandish shit most people dismiss out of hand? Those are the stories that are most often true."
Irwin's brow furrowed, "You're kidding me."
"I'm not," I said. "Nine out of ten magic users will probably tell you 'do not try and learn magic'," I stated as something that I, as far I as I knew was fact. "And, honestly? They're kinda right to do so. Magic's risky shit to start into. And more importantly, it flies in the face of common sense. It's got its own logic, its own chains of cause and effect that work independent of the normal world's." I said, continuing to stir my Virgin Mary, seeping magic down into the drink.
I paused "Actually, you mind? Like I said, I've had almost no resources for ingredients like this."
Irwin raised an eyebrow, "Okay?" he asked, confused.
"See, if I was a demon or a fairy? You'd probably be dead right now," I told him flat out. "Which I'm not by the way. I'm basically just your starting hedgewitch."
Then to highlight both of those statements I promptly leant over so I could gesture more easily with the hand of my bad arm as I stirred, and spoke a trail of weird, occasionally double toned words and sounds barely within the scope of a human tongue.
My Virgin Mary changed as I did. Not noticeably at first, but then after a few seconds, it began to bubble, the color shifting twisting into darker and lighter spirals that ran counter to the direction I was stirring halfway to the center dipping down into a whirlpool deeper than the speed of my motion should. The slightly wilting leaves of the stick of celery gradually began to perk up, until, after a solid minute's stirring. I completed my basic Witch's Brew.
During this, my three fellows at the table watched with a mix of reactions. Frank near flinched back, while also looking with interest. Bill… was seemingly almost casually aware of my every movement, paying attention, and having the air of being ready without being particularly alarmed. While Irwin? Irwin had started off clearly annoyed at my words, then momentarily befuddled, then gradually his face narrowed into a more serious inquisition.
"Okay, Hedge Witch, what's that?" he asked me, nodding to my defiled Virgin Mary.
"Now? A tonic that mildly, but noticeably improves cardiovascular health, overall energy, and calm," I said while lifting it up and taking an experimental sip. "I also changed the flavor a bit, mostly added a few bits, and shifted the texture," I added, taking a much more liberal second gulp, before setting it back down for external appraisal.
"And the whole, 'if you were a demon, we'd be dead' thing?" Frank asked.
"If I had been? By 'ingredients', I could have meant you," I specified. "Which, by agreeing to let me use them, Irwin would have stripped away a protection you probably didn't even realize you had," I explained.
Setting down my drink, I gestured out with my good arm, "See, the truth is? Everyone uses magic. All the time. You just don't realize it. You fortify your homes with iron. You bless someone when they sneeze. You boil water to drive demons out, along with the disease."
Picking up my knife I cut a bit more of my now cooler steak sandwich loose. "Humanity has learned a million little rituals like that that all make something's day harder, when it comes to fucking with people all used casually, mostly in ignorance, operating by rules they don't know. Just doing it by living their everyday life. Like how the lights and noise and dogs of a city drive away the wolves who live outside."
"But," I said, stabbing the now cutaway portion with my fork for emphasis. "That only works because the wolves don't have skin in the game. The city is big, noisy and dangerous, and most of the time, there is easier prey elsewhere. Unless they're starving, it's a bad bet. So the residents of that city don't need to know what particular part of their life drives that particular pack away.
"But to learn magic?" I asked, lifting the section up. "That's to go out and start looking for wolves, to try and figure out which thing works and which doesn't. And not only are those wolves still hungry… a lot of them can carry a grudge," I said.
Then bit down into my meal, which was still fucking delicious.
"Which is where you come in right?" Bill asked. "Wizards who know all that shit?"
I gave a half shrug, speeding up my chewing. "Not uh, oows-" I swallowed. "-all of it. But yeah. That's what you get human mystics for generally. Knowing shit. Fireballs and magic potions are secondary. Really cool, but secondary. I mean, you can learn just some of the flashy stuff relatively safely, but only if you stick to a few, reliable tricks, and even then, you will pay a price. It might not seem that bad of one, it might not even be that bad of one, but you also never seem to know the full scale of what it'll cost you when you do."
Irwin waited for a moment, watching the others, then sighed, "Alright, I'll bite. Then why did you get into it?"
"Well, some of the time, you don't realize what you're buying until you've bought it," I said with dark amusement. "I certainly didn't know I'd end up stranded in fucking Gotham for a year…"
I then paused and realized who I was saying that to. "I mean, no offense, but."
This earned me a mass roll of eyes and largely a wave off. "Yeah, yeah, we get the picture." Bill said.
Frank interjected then, "Was it worth it, though?"
I started cutting another slice. "Don't know yet. Still starting, remember? Guess, we'll see one way or another."
The steak was really good, honestly. I wouldn't say it was the best part of the meeting, that was still easily just getting that weight off my chest, but it was good.
That good mood was promptly spoiled as I woke up the next day, only to find Jimmy waiting for me at Doc Thompkins clinic, with a book I strongly suspected was penned by an actual demon.
Part 7
"Jimmy, where did you find this?" I asked as I cautiously parsed through the pages of the old, weathered, but paradoxically clean and undamaged book.
I then immediately shut it as I realized that I was slowly starting to understand the alien script that was alongside the frankly horrifying diagrams, I was about 90% sure were penned in some form of dried blood.
"Booksale," he said proudly.
"What kind of booksale Did you-" I started. "-Wait, I don't want to-" I groaned, as I realized I probably, had to. "Uuuugh… Okay, where was this book sale? Was there anything else? Animated dolls perhaps?"
"Nooo… They did have two baskets of dolls though. One was labeled 'probably not haunted'," he added.
I groaned and bent over as I resisted the urge to compress into a ball. Why did I say I understood how supernatural crap worked?
"So… Does that mean that it's legit?" Jimmy asked, eagerly reaching back towards the book.
"No, bad," I swatted his hands. "I mean, yes. This thing is near certainly magic. The damned thing was actively trying to be re-" I stopped in sudden realization. "You already read the book, didn't you?"
"I mean… Yeah?" Jimmy said, in a tone that started confident, but quickly started turning otherwise. "That's… bad?"
"Gods damn it Jimmy," I grumbled, almost opening my pocket to stash the thing away out of his view, hidden ace be damned… Before I realized, maybe stuffing the possibly aware, likely malicious magic artifact into a demiplane attached to my soul might be a bad idea,
Instead I walked up to Doctor Thompkin, who was still setting up for the day. "There a problem?"
"I need to borrow a medical waste bag, and take Jimmy to go see Father Callahan," I said to her bluntly.
My ever generous benefactor raised an eyebrow at that. "You need to take him to see Callahan?" she asked.
"He might be possessed," I said with a sigh.
"Wait, what?" Jimmy asked, alarmed.
"That would explain a few things," She said dryly.
"I'm actually serious," I told her. "Magic items that want you to touch them are, with a few very notable exceptions, extremely bad news, and magic books that want you to read them? Almost always hella cursed. Like, nine times out of ten 'some sort of demonic landmine trying to get you to summon and or be possessed by a terrible evil' variety. It doesn't help that I'm pretty sure this thing is bound in human skin," I glared at the book.
The intricately carved title seemed to glare back up at me. Daring me to open it up and see what it was really made of.
"Yeah, no, fuck you. I am not playing that game," I told the seemingly inanimate object flatly.
I then turned back to Doctor Thompkins. "Do you also have some duct tape? I'll settle for medical tape and something to cover it up with."
"Are you sure I can't look at it a bit more first?" Jimmy asked, looking at the book, his hands twitching upward.
Doctor Thompkins, opened her drawer, pulled out a roll of duct tape, tossed said tape to me, and then grabbed her keys. "I'll drive you there."
About twenty minutes later we'd pulled into the church. It had only taken fifteen to actually reach the church, but I'd also suggested calling ahead, both to let Father Callahan know the book existed in case something bad happened in transport, and so hopefully, he could prepare some sort of containment for the thing and start preparing whatever he'd need to help sort Jimmy out.
I had no real idea what he was going to prepare at the time. I'd thought maybe he'd lock it in a safe, or pull a Van Hellsing and put it in a box stuffed full of holy wafers.
Instead, when we finally got to Father Callahan's, he'd taken one look at the (still taped up) grimoire, grimaced, then promptly bound it in heavy chains, shoved it into a solid iron, cross engraved box, then chained up the box.
He then proceeded to take me and Jimmy into the back while Doc Thompkins went back to the clinic, and I got to see what the expedited form of an exorcism was like.
It was… surprisingly simple? Like he just splashed Jimmy with a bit of holy water, then kinda… Grabbed him by the forehead and outright pleaded with God to come kick this malevolent spirit out of the conspiracy enthusiastic.
And, presumably, he did. Because Jimmy went from 'you know, this is cool and all, but do we really need to do this' to 'You're too late' in a voice that both distinctly was and was not Jimmy, and then Jimmy was just… down in the grass, very confused, a little afraid, even more curious, and requesting some magic orange slices.
Which I provided, both because why not, and because I was a little worried that this was, somehow, all my fault. For putting the idea in Jimmy's head if nothing else.
"Luckily it was not a proper possession," Father Callahan explained. "Merely an intrusion. The demon's hold on young Mr. Charleston's soul was precarious, and has now been pried free."
"It did have a grip on him though?" I asked the Priest. "I looked in the book too, and it was definitely trying something but I shut it the moment I noticed."
He looked at me seriously. "And did you have any further 'feelings' after doing so?" he asked me.
"I think it tried to… Provoke me, into opening it?" I confirmed, "It was like it was trying to pick a fight, but I realized right away it was a trick."
The priest flicked some holy water at me.
I shrugged, "Nothing."
"Then it likely failed to mark on you," he assured.
"Well that or it wanted to stick to easier prey… No offense Jimmy," I said looking over at my crazy, well intentioned, stupid, but helpful complete lemming of a friend.
"Says the guy with a broken arm," Jimmy shot back… Then winced as he registered what he'd just said.
"To the guy who almost got possessed." I hammered back. "And whose fault were both those things?"
"Ah… I got nothing," Jimmy said, slumping. "Right, I'm sorry man, I just thought, 'Magic Book? This is totally Reed's kind of thing."
I huffed in irritation at that.
"Either way," Interrupted Father Callahan. "You'd be wrong about that assumption," he told me. "In my experience, the more you resist a demon's will, the harder a demon will try to worm its way in. They are meant to test humanity after all."
That was right, I remembered a few demons picking… frankly stupid fights. Once they locked in… "They tend to carry a grudge," I said with a grimace.
So that was one new enemy made.
"So now what?" Jimmy asked, distracting me from that somber note. "Do we investigate the place I got the book? I still remember where it was," he offered up helpfully.
"Probably should," I sighed. This was my life now wasn't it? "Not like we can just go ask Batman to take care of it."
"Don't even joke about that!" Jimmy said, shivering, reacting with a lot more to the hero's name than the literal demon who had possessed him.
"Well first, we need to make sure this troublesome thing doesn't get loose," Father Callahan said, patting the iron box. "There is someone in town. Not a friend, but someone who could be trusted to handle such a thing. I'll drop it off with him. After that? Well, these old bones have been due for a stroll through the town."
He then slung the heavy iron box under his arm with surprising strength for his age. "Come along. You two are already involved, and I can guess you will not be inclined to simply seek shelter within His house."
"Are you kidding? Of course I'm not missing this!" Jimmy said.
I sighed, seeking shelter in the church while waiting for this to blow over… Honestly, it hadn't sounded like the worst idea. However, "I better come along too," I said, before looking at the pair. "Though I'll warn you now. My magic is not ready to throw down with a demon." Most of my best Cantrips for it weren't even stable enough to use. I mean, there was Eldritch Blast which only had range issues, but I had put no practice into it at all. Something I'd have to change in the near future.
I couldn't help but notice that my list of 'need to learn' Cantrips seemed to be growing a lot faster than it was shrinking.
"Don't worry child," The good father said as he lead us towards his office. "God watches over his children. This isn't the first time I've run into a situation like this, and I've found a few tricks and tools that will help to guide us through these troubling times."
As we reached his office and started to help him pack up, we learned that one of those tools happened to be a fully loaded shotgun.
…This was going to be one of those comic storylines, wasn't it?