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Dreamweaver (IC)


Blarghy

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"Ehhh," he mumbled around his cigarette.  "Yeah, something like that.  I tried talking to her yesterday.  Didn't get anything.  She doesn't like AEGIS, or cops, or much of anybody.  Never met her before that, but we still got off on the wrong foot.  I'm not much for sweet-talking to murderers.  If the Blackguards had given me free rein, it might've gone differently.  Doesn't matter now."

 

Their Navy boatman aimed in more of a northward heading this time, instead of back to Lonely Point.  They'd be on their own again after docking at Riverside, but Fortune Favors wasn't far from the water. 

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That didn't answer the implied question about the name -- 'Adept' -- but Sam let the matter drop. It was none of his business anyway, and if he pressed the issue Warne would probably just shrug it off or threaten him. It wasn't worth the hassle. Sam looked out of the window, at the approaching shore, and zipped up his coat to cover the suit-jacket that he was wearing. "So, the plan is that I go in and ask for some of the... what did she call it? Drops of starlight. Are you coming in, or will I need to wear a wire?"

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"I don't think Boyd will be as forthcoming if I'm there with you," Warne guessed dryly.  He took a smartphone from his pocket and began fiddling with it.  "I've already sent word ahead for surveillance equipment, but I'm less interested in catching Boyd than in finding his source.  If I have to push him into a plea deal for his boss's name, then I will, but I hope you can just get him to tell you.  Ask for more of a supply than he can deliver, or say you want in on the operation, or whatever; these things rarely go according to plan, so I'm willing to let you handle it however you must, since you'll be the one on the ground.  Just try not to spook him, for God's sake; kingpins are inevitably paranoid, but they're much harder to take down when they know you're coming."

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Sam nodded. "Right, right." He paused, thinking. With his skill at alchemy, he probably could make the stuff and, for a brief moment, wondered just how much money there might be in it for him if he did. He shook those thoughts from his mind -- one glance at Warne reminded him of why he needed to keep on the straight and narrow. As powerless as the agent seemed, Sam got the niggling feeling that he didn't want to cross the man that Knickknack had called Adept. The magician ran a hand through his hair and then lowered it to his jaw to straighten his goatee. "Don't worry. It's not... uh, it's not the first time that I've bought drugs. I know how to handle myself. Keep it cool and offer money up front."

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

"You're an expert, Steiner," Warne dryly remarked, words swirling in smoke.  "That's why you make the big bucks."

 

Half an hour later, another AEGIS agent offered Sam a cold cut sub from the deli around the corner.  They sat in a gray van masquerading as a carpet cleaning outfit--"No Pain, No Stain!"--crammed with four people all told, plus the driver up front.  Between human bodies and the recording gear, there was, decidedly, little elbow room to go around. 

 

While one man outfitted Sam with his wire, another handed Warne a thick white envelope.  He opened it to the tune of several hundred dollars in mixed bills, mostly twenties.  "Try to clean him out," he instructed.  "Why you want this much is up to you, but if Boyd can't meet your full demand, then that gives you more plausibility for wanting to meet his boss."

 

"You should have a code word for trouble, in case he pulls a weapon or does something dangerous that we can't infer over the audio, and you need us to kick down the door," the wire-man said.  "What's something you think you can bring up without sounding suspicious, but aren't likely to say accidentally or stumble over trying to avoid?"

Edited by Blarghy
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Sam couldn't help but smirk at their concern, feigned though it might have been. What could some talent-less nobody of a shopkeeper possibly do that could threaten the life of Presto the Preposterous? Nothing, that's what. Still, if they wanted a word, he'd give them one. "I suppose that 'Oh no please don't kill me ahh' would be too on the nose?" He smiled, then rolled his eyes. "I'll invoke the haggard hordes of Hastur; it's a saying that can mean quite a few things -- notably shock, awe, and surprise. If he's had even basic interactions with magicians, he's probably heard it enough times that it won't sound out of place. You, on the other hand, should notice it right away."

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

"...Yes, ok, that should be easy to catch."  The agents exchanged glances behind their sunglasses; suffice to say, this was the first time they'd heard that particular phrase. 

 

Warne, with his usual frown, had perhaps picked up on Sam's low opinion of his target (not that Sam made it difficult, with how he originally described Terry back at Blackstone).  "Don't screw this up by picking on the guy for being regular.  He's probably not dangerous, and he's definitely not smart, but this will go a lot smoother if you can make him like you, instead of me having to haul him down to an interrogation room and threaten him with legal action.  Or other things."

 

His fellows had nothing to add to this, but presently one of them announced, "Alright, you're set."

 

"The shop's around the block," another said, though Sam should already know that.  "We'll keep the van here, to avoid suspicion, but--"

 

"--I'll be closer, with an earpiece, just in case," Warne finished. 

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Sam grinned. "Don't worry, don't worry," he said. "I know how to sell an illusion." He began to button his undershirt back up, covering the wire, and stepped out of the vehicle. A moment later he was pushing open the door to Fortune Favors, which caused a small bell above the door to merrily herald his entry. The magician grinned and pulled his slightly-ratty jacket closer against his body as be began to peruse the wares. His eyes passed over the largely unimpressive baubles, trinkets, knickknacks (of a more benign and non-cannibalistic variety) that lined the shelves and adorned the display tables and he slowly, slowly, slowly made his way towards the counter at the front of the store and the man there that maintained it.

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GM

 

The shop's stock wasn't entirely useless; Sam could be sure that nothing out in the open for general examination was actually magical, but the symbols around him at least had proper substance.  Arranged by section was everything from Egyptian mysticism to practical Kabbalah, Norse runestones to neopagan Wicca.  The Satanic region sat tucked away at the back corner, because while Terry Boyd wasn't smart, he at least knew to not scare off casual buyers before they even stepped foot inside.  Perhaps the strongest evidence that this shop lacked real supernatural heft was that it hadn't yet collapsed under its own weight and fallen into another dimension.  Any real storehouse of such lore would need far better security than just the lock on the front door.

 

Terry himself sat behind the counter but stood up when he saw he had a customer.  The portly, bearded man had a number of visible tattoos and piercings, likely more beneath his solid black outfit; if his frame was just a little less doughy, he'd be rather imposing, in a dangerous biker sort of way.  His peaceful smile didn't help--too peaceful, a sign that Sam could likely read.  He appeared to have recently hurt himself somehow; a white bandage adhered to the outside of his left forearm. 

 

"Welcome to Fortune Favors," he drawled.  "Need help finding anything?"

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Sam looked up from the small crystal skull that he had been examining -- quartz, of course, as cheap and tawdry as they come -- and flashed one of his prize-winning smiles at the overweight proprietor. "Maybe," he said, drawing out the word so that it became a question. "Maybe." He straightened to his full, moderately impressive height and strode to the counter, the smile never wavering on his face. "I've heard from an associate of mine that you've got something special in the back -- reserved for a more 'unusual' clientele? I was interested in getting my hands on some." The grin stretched a little at the corners, growing ever so slightly wider. How did he get his teeth so white? "In fact," he continued. "I'd be interested in purchasing as much as possible."

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GM

 

Sam's specific wording would've set a keener dealer on the right track, but Terry failed to make precise connections.  Still, his eyebrows lifted and his wide mouth twitched with leering interest.

 

"Ahahhhh," he mused slowly, and probably, in his mind, with subtle understanding.  "So you're the real deal, huh?  Yeah, I can get you what you want.  What're you in the market for?  Artifacts?  Spell components?  I just brought in a palm-wood wand from North Africa.  The right talent can animate sand, or evaporate water.  I can give you a good deal."

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Sam had to struggle against himself to stop from snorting derisively at what must pass for an 'artifact' in Fortune Favors, but the smile maintained itself as winningly as ever. "I'm the real deal," he agreed, and then thought for a moment. "I'm real and then some." He shrugged -- what could it hurt? -- and held out one hand with his empty palm facing towards the ceiling. He closed his fingers, squeezed them tightly, and then opened them again to reveal the large, polished silver dollar the rested in his hand. "Play close attention," he said, and waved his other hand over the coin before he once again closed his fingers. He brought both hands together, rubbed them, and spread them wide. A live, brilliantly yellow canary flew out from between his fingers and landed on the counter in front of Terry. It tweeted sweetly for a few seconds before it burst into bright silver flames which, when they died down, revealed... the coin. The magician's grin widened, and this time it was real. He loved this sort of thing just as much as Terry did, and to perform for a captive audience was a treat that he savored. "I used to perform in Las Vegas," he announced. "And I picked up some very... nasty habits. I'm here today because I was told that you might have something in stock to satisfy my cravings?"

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Terry's sense of wonder was almost palpable.  The studs in his lips spread wide, and his eyebrow rings jingled.  When the bird caught fire, he stumbled back with a soft cry, but then leaned forward again eagerly.  Even by the standards of a lover of magic, his reaction was childlike, an innocence and simplicity radiating from his spirit. 

 

He took a moment to actually reply.  Part of him seemed slightly disappointed that Sam wanted business now, and not more tricks.  He took a further moment to understand, but when he did, some of the light returned to his eyes.

 

"Oh!  Oh!  You want starlight!  Oh man, with that, you'll be unstoppable!" 

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Presto's grin receded as he got back to business. "Starlight," he said. "Yes." He strode towards the counter with long, even steps. "I've... only ever heard things from friends, but I've never used it myself." He reached the counter and pressed a single finger down on the coin, which he then slowly pushed towards Terry. "Tell me, before I buy: what can I expect?"

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"Oh, you're gonna love it."  Terry, in his enthusiasm, turned away as though to go get Sam's purchase right away, but then remembered the rest of the question and faced his customer again.  "It's gonna boost your magic.  I keep taking it hoping it'll give me the Gift, but no luck so far.  There's no fun head-stuff, unfortunately; I still like weed better.  At least it gives you the best dreams."

 

Uncertainty flickered across his face, and for a moment he touched the bandage on his forearm.  "...Mostly.  They're just so bright and real.  But the main thing is the magic.  For a few hours, you'll be better than ever."

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Presto paused, taking a moment to think things over. Everything that Terry said seemed to correspond with what Knickknack had mentioned in the prison, so at least that indicated the man wasn't lying. The magician was astute enough to notice that Terry touched the bandage when he mentioned the dreams, though what that could mean eluded him. Just how real were the drug-induced nightmares? Real enough that injuries inflicted subconsciously manifested in the real world? There were certain spells, dark magic, that could kill a man as he slept, through his dreams, but Presto hadn't ever heard of something like that distilled into a narcotic. "I... see," he said at last. "That's quite a potent potion that you've got there. You, ah, made it yourself, did you?"

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GM

 

Presto had overlooked the most important (to Terry, anyway) bit: Knickknack never told him about an increase to her magical abilities, and Adept hadn't mentioned it either.  In the first case, he could probably attribute it to her unwillingness to give him more than he'd strictly paid for.  And perhaps the latter, too--though Sam's employer also might genuinely not know.  Well, before he heard the news over the wire just now.

 

Terry laughed as though this was a particularly good joke.  "Me?  No, no.  I wish.  I'm just the messenger of this, ah, heavenly news."  He smiled dreamily to himself for a long moment before jolting back to the matter at hand.  "So!  It's sixty a shot.  How much do you want?"

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Sam blinked -- that wasn't nearly as expensive as he'd been expecting! Back when he'd been a bit of a 'partier' while on tour as a magician he could remember paying much more for a decent snort of premium cocaine. He wondered if it was priced so low because it was so new. Maybe whoever it was that created the drug wanted to get as many people hooked as cheaply as possible before they raised the price? That was a trick as old as the huckster profession. Regardless, he shrugged and reached into his pocket to remove the bundle of bills that Warne had provided him and began to count them out. "I want as much as possible," he said. "I have some... rather impressive feats in mind and I need to be at my best. You understand." He smiled, and continued. "So then, you don't make it here? Wherever do you get it?"

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GM

 

Terry blinked as well when he saw the money.  "Oh.  Uh...wow.  I don't think I have that much.  Lemme go check."

 

He shuffled off to the Employees Only doorway, fiercely guarded by a curtain of hanging beads.  The man seemed to have missed, or forgotten, Sam's second question.  As far as dealers went, that was far from the worse negative response to nudgings about their suppliers. 

 

Within a few minutes, Terry came back with a shoe box.  He placed it on the counter and carefully removed two stacked trays of literal shots--not syringe cartridges, but plastic disposable shot glasses sealed with film wrap.  Each looked to be half full of some syrupy red substance. 

 

"You, uh...you can take the box," Terry offered.  Only after he began slowly using a calculator to determine payment did he take on a goofy smile. 

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The corner of Sam's smile twitched slightly as he withheld a laugh. If this was how Terry conducted his business it was a wonder that he was still alive, let alone dealing a magical narcotic to people like Knickknack. That said, what he saw before him wasn't at all what he'd expected. For example, with a name like 'starlight' he'd anticipated it to be, at the very least, blue. Presto hummed a short tune under his breath as Terry did his calculations and, after a minute or two had passed, he spoke. "So then," he said. "How much do I owe you?"

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GM

 

Once Terry struggled through basic arithmetic, he quoted a number well within Sam's reach.  His clear appreciation of the money turned a bit embarrassed.  

 

"Is...that enough?  I can restock sometime next week..."

 

He then laughed, slightly forced.  "You having a party or something?  This should keep you going for a while, unless you want to try taking it all at once.  I dunno what that would do.  Maybe turn you into the greatest wizard in the world!"

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Presto did a quick count of the available doses then thumbed through his funds and discovered that his cup runneth over. "Terrance, my friend," he said. "That's a very good start, really. Very good. But I'm afraid that I'm going to need quite a bit more for what I have planned. A trick like none other -- a trick to change the world!" He grinned somewhat wildly, like he used to when he stood in mid-air, his wand at the ready, with the heroes closing in. If Terry's the kind of man to keep up with magical news, or even superheroics, he might now recognize Sam for who he is -- or at least get an inkling of his past. He leaned in, over the counter, to use his height to his advantage. "Now, I know from prior experience in these matters that I shouldn't inquire as to your source; that's a bit of a faux pax in the drug-dealing business. But I do need more starlight, you understand. Much more than you have. And perhaps I could persuade you..." He slipped a few bills from the roll and placed them on the counter. "...to officiate a meeting?" He'd baited the trap with talk of a magical undertaking; he only hope that it, and the money, would sway Terry away from his better judgement.

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

That flurry of a speech dazed Terry for a moment; his eyes fogged as he tried to catch up, and very likely just skipped to the end. 

 

"You, uh, you want to meet with my guy?"  His eyebrows scrunched, jiggling the piercings in them.  Nonetheless, he soon relaxed and slowly took the money Sam had offered.  "...Alright, I guess I can make a call.  It's up to him; I can't promise anything.  But I'll ask.  Can you give me your number?  I'll call you with the details later today, soon as I can get him on the phone."

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Presto relaxed, his muscles releasing their subtle tension. "That's good," he said. "That's very good, Terry. Thank you." He reached out and took up the box of starlight, which he held as carefully in both hands as he might a crate of explosive compound. "I appreciate your help. Do you have a pen?" Once Terry had readied himself, Sam rattled off his phone number -- having to stop and repeat himself a few times, of course. When it was finally written down, Presto began to say his goodbye. "Let me know as soon as possible whatever it is your supplier tells you," he instructed the other man. "I hope to hear from you soon." With that, he turned and walked to the door. Unless stopped, he will make his way outside and back to meet with agent Warne and the others.

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"Come back anytime!" Terry called after him, hope and more than a little admiration in his voice.

 

Outside, Sam could perhaps spot Warne drinking coffee at a nearby cafe.  The agent didn't immediately rise from his seat; by the time Sam returned to the surveillance van, his employer was walking into view from the opposite direction.  Presumably he took a different route to avoid them being seen together within eye-shot of Fortune Favors. 

 

He wore a pensive frown.  Once in the van, he nodded once--probably the most thanks and praise Sam was likely to get at the moment--and asked, "Well, what do you make of all this?"

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