Grant's Gym, Gotham City, July 1st, 1987
"Sounds like you had a busy week, Flagg! Your whole Rent-A-Wizard business finally taking off?"
"Okay, at this point you're just using that word to piss me off, old man!"
I rub at my aching bicep, happy to finally be done with the last set at the bench press. Over by the free weights, Ted is already setting up the next part of our weekly torture session, picking up a pair of weights with ease, and I notice with some resignation that he's apparently decided to move me up to the next pair.
"Just for that old man remark, I'm adding an extra five pounds to this set. That'll teach you to respect your elders, young man!"
I groan.
"Seriously though, Flagg, Solomon Grundy isn't someone you should be messing around with. I'm surprised he just let you walk out of his swamp, he sure as hell wasn't the type to talk things out back when the Society fought him." Ted says, a note of concern in his voice.
"Well, it's a long story... how much do you know about Grundy, exactly?"
He shrugs "I'll admit, almost nothing. No details anyway. Back in the day, it was either Green Lantern or Fate who dealt with him. I wasn't much use against him, that's for sure, it was like punching a giant, wet garbage bag full of hamburger and chicken bones. Fate managed to put him back down at least a dozen times, but the undead bastard always came back. I just thought the last time just finally stuck."
I stand up, stretching my arms as I prepare myself for further torment "Nope, whatever Fate did to him during their last encounter just sent him back to the swamp. From what I can tell, Grundy is a virtually unique type of being, he's always going to resurrect back in Slaughter Swamp no matter how he is destroyed. The difference was that last time, he came back as a... slightly more docile version of himself, so he never saw fit to leave the swamp again and go looking for a fight. Pissing him off is still an extremely bad idea, but this Grundy at least doesn't attack on sight. I found that offering him a snack helps to foster a bit of trust too."
"Huh, that would explain a lot. Hell, Green Lantern dropped him on the friggin MOON once, and he still came back."
"Yeah, good effort, but like I said, he'll always return. Throwing him into the Sun MIGHT work, I don't know how far away from Earth the magic effect extends, but as it is right now, it's not really necessary."
"Probably just as well, I doubt Alan's got that kind of juice these days, we'd have to ask the new kid in Coast City for help with that." Ted says as he plonks down the free weights in front of me and dusts his hands "Alright, breaks over, I want three sets of 15! Let's go!"
Uuuuuuughhhh....
...
"-Los Bolesaros? Think I've heard about those punks, but I don't think I've ever run into any of them in person..."
"Yeah, they're not around in my neighborhood either, apparently they stick to the latino parts of East End." I respond, trying to finish taping up my fists the way Ted's been showing me, as I prepare to go a few rounds against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. I think I'm getting a bit better at this, I'm nowhere near Ted's level of course, but at least I don't make a complete idiot of myself every time I throw a punch, even against an inanimate object. "Apparently, this kid ran away from home just to join them, and his sister paid me to track him down and drag him back. Had to put the fear of Magic into the guy in charge first, but overall, I think I did pretty good."
"Eh, now there's something that never changes, it was the same damn story when I was a kid back in the 30's - you're young, you're angry, and you just want to be part of something that lets you fight back. Never did join up myself, but I had boxing to help me straighten myself out. A lot of kids, they ain't so lucky..."
The conversation drifts off for a few minutes as Ted finishes putting the bag up, and words are replaced by the sound of fists striking leather. I follow Ted's instructions as best I can, letting the bag bounce back before I strike out with the next blow, feeling the jolt from the impact against my knuckles. I haven't actually had to use anything I've learned here so far, the people I've had to deal with were just random street scum that even a child could have taken down if they were packing the kind of magic muscle I do these days, but it's nice to know that I have something to fall back on, just in case.
As the set comes to an end, Ted pats me on the shoulder to signal me to stop, and I give the bag one last blow before stepping back, watching it bounce against it's restraints before coming to a stop.
"So, other than messing with gang recruitment..." Ted says as he tosses me a water bottle, which I barely manage to get ahold of with my sore fingers before it falls to the ground "What else have you been doing with your time?"
"Well..."
......
June 29th, 1987
"I-I need you to help me find my son. He ran away, and... I have no idea how to find him!"
"I can try, certainly! I'll need a name, a personal item, and it helps if you have a photo of the boy."
"Of-of course!" The man sitting in my guest chair begins rummaging in the inside pockets of his jacket. He's definetly not from the neighborhood, his suit and tie makes that all too clear, his hair far too neat and cared for. He's a white man who looks to be in early middle-age, slightly overweight, with neatly combed dark hair. There's a plain, gold wedding ring on one hand, and as he goes through the contents of his pocket, I catch a glimpse of a necklace with a cross around his neck, hidden beneath the collar of his shirt.
Finally, the man finds what he's searching for, depositing two items on the desk; another cross necklace, similar to the one he's wearing, and a polaroid photo. I reach for the necklace first, only to pause as I notice something strange about the photo. Picking it up, I look down the image of the same man who's sitting in front of me, give or take a few years. Next to him is another, much younger man, with dark, tussled hair, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans in contrast to the mans suit and tie. You don't need to be a detective to see that they're father and son. And that the boy in this photo hasn't been a child for quite a while.
"His name is Steven. Steven Cassidy." The man says, seemingly oblivious to what he just handed me.
"Uh... Mr. Cassidy, exactly how old is your son again?"
"He just turned 24 a few months ago. Why, is that important to find him?"
"Nnnno, it's important because that means this isn't a runaway, this is just your adult son moving out. Adults can't run away from home, Mr. Cassidy, they can just leave whenever they want. I'm not sure what you want from me."
He pales "You don't understand!" He leans forward, reaching for the photo, only to suddenly draw back again with a defeated expression "I have to find him! I have to get him back! I have to get him to understand..." He pauses, looking like he's unsure if he wants to explain further.
"... Mr. Cassidy, why exactly did your very much adult son "run away from home"?" I say, making quotation marks with my hands. "And why do you expect me to drag him back for you?"
"...we had a big fight. We both said things... awful things. I told him if he was going to be..." He stops, avoiding my eyes "You see, my son, he's... confused. He has these... unnatural desires, and I've been trying to help him past them. To make him see that he's going against God's will."
Oh for- seriously? I know the 80's were bullshit when it came to gay rights, but seriously? "Mr. Cassidy, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that your son is a homosexual, and you don't approve?"
Cassidy winces, his lack of a response being all the confirmation I need.
"Okay, kid's gay, you don't approve, he decides to go his own way rather than repressing himself, frankly, sounds like he's the winner in that scenario. If you disapprove so much, why did you even want me to track him back down?"
"Because he's my SON!" Cassidy yells, both hands slamming down on the desk. He's halfway out of his chair like he's about to stand up, only to slump back down in his seat, the anger draining out of his face "He's... my son... God help me, I still love him, and I just... I need to know that he's alright. It's dangerous out there, especially for... that sort of people. Please, I just want to see him again with my own eyes..."
I sigh "Well, that's not how I usually do my scrying, but there's one spell I have that might give you what you want..." I rise from my chair and head over to the part of my squalid apartment that can generously be called a kitchen. From one of the cabinets, I pull out a chipped ceramic bowl, alongside a bottle of mineral water. This particular spell requires pure spring water, which is a problem since most kinds of bottled water is just tap water with a fancy name on the label, but there's a few brands out there that sell the real deal, and for whatever reason, it doesn't seem to matter if they carbonate the water or not.
Cassidy stares at me as I pour the water into the bowl, almost all the way to the brim, before walking back to the desk and placing it in front of him. Picking up his sons crucifix, I drop the jewelry into the water, letting it sink to the bottom, before placing both my hands on the sides of the bowl. And I begin to focus, gazing into the eyes of my own reflection in the waters surface...
"Window To The World!"
For the first few seconds, nothing seems to happen... then, slowly, a ripple flows across the water, slowly changing the reflection as my own image begins to disappear, replaced by another figure entirerly.
"Mother of Christ..." I hear Cassidy whisper next to me, leaning closer to look at the image appearing in the bowl "I-I didn't expect this to actually-" His voice cuts off as the image takes shape, focusing into the same man from the polaroid photo, a few years older, but still unmistakably him. "That's-that's him! That's Steven!" Cassidy jumps to his feet, almost bumping into me in his rush to get a closer look at his son. "What do I do?! What do I say?!"
"It's a magic vision, Mr. Cassidy, not a phone call! Steven can't see or hear us, he doesn't even know we're looking in on him. Now please be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate!"
In the image, Steven is sitting on a small sofa, leaning against one of the armrests with a magazine in his hands, idly flipping through the pages with a relaxed look on his face. He's dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, showing off a surprisingly muscular physique, considering how scrawny he looked in the photo. His hair is longer, hanging down to his neck, and his skin is tanner, so wherever he is, he hasn't been avoiding the outdoors.
Cassidy looks like he's about to say something again, in spite of my instructions, when there's movement on the side of the image. Steven looks up from his reading and smiles, just as another man comes walking into view, sliding down next to him and draping an arm around his waist. The new arrival is a bit thinner than Steven, though not by much, an athletic build visible through his tight t-shirt. He's got shaggy, blonde hair, with a pair of glasses covering his eyes. The two talk wordlessly, the image releasing no sounds, before the pair presses their lips together in a kiss.
"Okay, that's enough invasion of privacy for one day, I think you've gotten the drift, Mr. Cassidy" I say, dismissing the image with one sweep of my hand over the water, dispelling the magic and returning the liquid to normal. I scoop the now-wet necklace from the bottom, and drop it in front of a shellshocked Cassidy, who's still staring at the empty water surface. As I drop the necklace, he seems to snap out of it, looking up at me with wide eyes.
"That... that was real, wasn't it? That was actual magic!"
I shrug as I sit back down behind the desk "It says Freelance Magician right on the door, what did you expect exactly? A car dealership?"
"No, but I- I didn't think it was really... I mean, who could possibly think-" He shakes his head in disbelief, covering his face with both hands, rubbing his eyes like he's expecting to wake up from a very odd dream "I was desperate. I thought it might just be some bizarre gimmick you were using to get customers! I didn't expect it to actually be real!"
"It IS a gimmick - the gimmick is that I use magic for my work, this really isn't that complicated!" For god's sake, I know that magic isn't widely known to be real, but when people will deny what's happening right in front of them, that is an extra level of frustration right there. "Look, Mr. Cassidy, you got what you wanted, your son is alive and well, and from what I could see, seems to be doing pretty good for himself. Time to pay your bill."
Cassidy stops, pulling his hands away from his eyes "What? He's still out there on his own, you still have to get him back for me!"
"That's not what you hired me to do, Mr. Cassidy. You asked me to find out how your son was doing, not drag him back to your house for you. I'm a magician, you want someone to fix your family issues for you, hire a counselor, though if you want some free amateur advice, maybe drop the idea that your son has to live his own life by your standards. Now pay up, and please leave!"
......
June 30th, 1987
"You think you can help her?"
Rani Khan is a rather pretty woman in her late 20's, with light brown skin, and long, dark hair that's been woven into an elaborate braid that extends down her back. She's currently standing behind her seated younger sister, hands on the teenagers shoulders, face creased with worry as I'm crouching down in front of the girl, examining her face. Meena shares her sisters beauty for the most part, the similarities between the two is obvious up close... on the left side of her face, that is.
On the right side, Meena's features have been marred by scar tissue, like something has eaten away the skin and left behind a patchwork of burns. The damage travels from the side of her nose across her cheek and jaw, just barely having missed her right eye through sheer luck. A few droplets move across towards her ear, staining one earlobe. From what Rani told me when she visited my office, Meena had been seeing a young man for a few months, who had apparently decided that the relationship wasn't progressing fast enough for his tastes, and decided to press the issue. When all this got him was a quick break-up and being abruptly shown the door by the girls father next time he tried to come visit, the man in question made sure that the next time he ran into his now-ex girlfriend, he'd brought along a small vial of acid...
While the miserable little sociopath is currently rotting in jail, unfortunately that doesn't put the skin back on Meena's face. My thumb brushes against the scar tissue just beneath her eye, and she winces. I doubt it's from pain, the nerves are long-dead by now, but even what little she can still feel on that part of her skin must be a horrible reminder.
"Why did you come to me? Can't they fix this sort of damage with skin grafts?"
Rani shakes her head "We talked to the doctors about it, the kind of money they charged..." she pauses, running a hand through her sisters unbound hair "Our family isn't wealthy, we could barely afford to pay for the hospital stay after the attack. I would do anything to help my sister, so when I heard the stories about a magician right here in the neighborhood... Please, if there's anything you can do for her..."
I give Meena's injuries one last look, before getting back to my feet, and reaching into my jacket "You're lucky the acid missed your eye, I'm not sure I could have fixed an injury that bad, at least not completely. However, this kind of damage shouldn't be too hard..." I find what I'm looking for, and pull out a plain, unmarked plastic bottle, the kind usually used to store pills, and twist off the cap in one quick motion. A weak, flowery smell drifts from the open container, given off by the milky, cloudy liquid within. I hand the bottle to Meena, who stares at it in hesitation, before accepting it.
"What is it?" Rani says, looking at the item I've just handed her sister with concern in her voice.
"Healing potion. Tastes like crap, but it can fix almost anything that isn't a missing limb. You need to drink all of that, every drop, give your body as much as you can to work with. Try not to gag when you drink it too, because I can't understate how horrible it tastes. I know this isn't a great sales pitch for it, I just want you to be prepared."
The two sisters look at eachother, then back down at the potion. Meena's hand trembles slightly, as she begins lifting it to her mouth, only for Rani to stop her.
"Meena, I can try it first, make sure it's-"
Before she can continue, Meena decides to take the plunge, pressing the bottle to her lips and tossing the whole thing back like a jello shot. The liquid is gone before she has a chance to register the taste, but a second later, it hits her like a freight train, her face twisting into a grimance of supreme disgust, and she begins making a gagging noise, smacking her lips together like she's trying to force the taste out. However, her face suddenly freezes, the gagging replaced by a gasp, as her right hand comes up to clutch at the scarred side of her face, her entire body tensing up. Rani is at her sisters side immediately, kneeling down with one hand around her sisters arm.
"Meena? Meena, what's wrong?!"
"Mirror..." The younger girl croaks out. When her sister doesn't react, she turns to glare at her, the right side of her face still hidden "Mirror!!"
Rani stumbles to her feet, before rushing over to the living room table and begins rummaging throug her purse, coming up with a small, round makeup mirror, before returning to hand it to her sister. Meena pops it open with one hand, and let's the other fall from her face. Both sisters gasp in shock, Rani almost falling over from her crouched position, as they take in the sight of Meena's face, where now not a single bit of scarring remains, her skin now just as smooth and umarred as Rani's. Rani cups her sisters face in her hands, running her fingers along the restored skin.
"I can't belive it. It's a miracle!" Rani babbles out, sounding like she's about to cry.
"I'm happy for you, but on a side note, I'm gonna need that bottle back" I point at the empty bottle, laying discarded by their feet "I try to reuse them as much as possible. Seems wasteful to throw them away, you know?"