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Dreamweaver (IC)


Blarghy

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Presto grinned, pleased at the damage that he'd wrought on Bailey, and lowered his wand for another blast. He spoke a word of power to conjure up another bolt of mystic lightning, but then Warne telekentically clobbered the shape-shifted monster forward, and out of the line of fire. The bolt sizzled through the air, narrowly missing the AEGIS agent, and left an arcing scorch-mark that bled molten metal on the far wall. Samuel winced and made a face, eyes wide, and then attempted to replace his embarrassment with indignation. "Warne! Be careful where you knock him around; I've got to get a bead on him to land a hit and I could have taken your head off with that one!"

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

Smooth-talking Presto might have pulled that explanation off; after reflexively leaping back, Warne glanced his way and just nodded once, firmly.  His next attack was a crush.  He squeezed Bailey from his spine to his sternum, trying to make the two meet in the middle.  Their enemy's eyes grew wider and wider until he finally shook off the pressure, gasped in a huge breath, and stared between both comparatively-tiny combatants.  But after his initial twinge of fear, dark hatred reclaimed his eyes, and he roared once more.  This wasn't over yet.

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The magician nodded, then lowered his wand so that the silver tip was centered on the mercenary's forehead, right between the eyebrows would be if Bailey still had them. He was careful, and held his position for a few seconds to steady his aim. "Alton," he said, his voice low. "Alton, it's over. Even if you got out of this, Baku's gone -- I sent him through the wall. If he wasn't knocked out, he's already made his escape by now. That means he left you here, do you understand?" His mouth narrowed to a thin line. "We can end this one of two ways. The first is the hard way. That's how things have been going so far, and it means that you get hurt and carted off to prison. The second way is easier. If you surrender, we can get you help. I know... I know how seductive magic can be, Alton. I know how good the power feels. It's like a drug, and you're addicted. But you can be stronger than that. You can master it, and be a better person than you are. I've done it, and so can you. Give up, take the easy way, and I'll do what I can to help you. Will you do that?"

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

Bailey twisted his neck around with a long, slow snarl through his nose.  Both his primary arms swung up, hitting the ceiling and bringing down a rain of dust, and then whipped across the room, this time at Warne. 

 

"I'M NOT GOING DOWN!" he screamed.

 

His spiky knuckles shattered a table to pieces and sprayed Warne with the debris, but those wooden shards only bounced off his shimmering force field.  In response, the agent narrowed his eyes, and invisible force rippled across Bailey's upper appendages with a series of soft crack-crack-cracks, like a masseuse popping their patient's back.  Bailey quickly withdrew his arms and fell forward onto his elbows in pain, putting him right in Presto's sights.

 

"Well you're sure as hell not going up," Warne threatened smugly.

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Sam shook his head. "For what it's worth, Alton," he said. "I'm sorry. I wish this could have ended differently." He spoke the word again and the blazing blue bolt of electricity sparked across the room in a hissing spear of light, aimed dead-center at Bailey's rippling, mutagenic forehead.

Edited by Sophistemon
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GM

 

While it was certainly a fine hit, and Bailey winced from the shimmering lance, he didn't seem to suffer as much as Presto may have hoped.  The great monster shook his head with another snarl.

 

"Thasss...thass all you..."

 

Then his head snapped to the other side as though he'd been hit hard in the jaw.  Warne smiled nastily.

 

"What was that?  I can't quite understand you."

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Sam lowered the wand, aghast. "Bailey, what have you done to yourself?" He looked at Warne. "Agent, I can't... we can't keep wailing on him like this; we might kill him!" He paused, considering his options. Another spell, something less damaging but still powerful enough to pack a punch. Ah, of course. He spoke a few short words in careful succession and then slashed the wand through the air in front of him, tearing open a short-lived breach between this world and the depths of the sea. A gout of water escaped the tear at a ferocious speed, barreling out at Bailey as though sprayed from a particularly powerful fire-hose.

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GM

 

For a second time in a row, Presto's aim was unquestionable, but sadly not his magic's effectiveness.  Bailey somehow managed to stand his ground even as the torrent of salt water flooded the basement ankle-deep. 

 

"You--" wheeze, "--you CAN'T STOP MEEEEE!"

 

"Oh, to hell with this," Warne snapped.  He darted across the room, splashing with every step, and slapped his palm against Bailey's bruised, burnt, frosted, and wet chest.  Summoning up all his skill and expertise, he mentally reached inside the criminal and used his brain to grip his very veins, squeezing them en masse and greatly weakening Bailey's constitution. 

 

"Just!  Go!  Down!"

Edited by Blarghy
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Sam watches, horrified, as Adept does something inside of Alton Bailey, his invisible powers of the mind reaching in and squeezing. The mercenary's eyes bug out with pain, and the spell that had begun in Presto's mind fizzles out. He jerks his wand to one side, another blast of freezing air staining the wall with alien ice, and narrows his eyes at the agent. "What are you doing? Look at him! It's over, Warne; this man needs a hospital and... and therapy!"

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GM

 

"YOU hospital!" Bailey garbled as he took another swing.  His fist went well over Warne's left shoulder and only just missed an aquarium on the opposite end of the room.  The bloodpatch pixies danced about wildly; after weeks of isolation, boredom, and outright abuse, they, at least, weren't minding the show.  For his part, Warne spared Samuel a mere glance, looked back to the incredibly stubborn figure before him, and did the mental equivalent of a fast knockout jab.  Bailey's head went back again, his shoulders relaxed, and slowly, his whole body rolled away until it hit the floor with a splash.  His monstrous form melted off of him choppily, like shedding a pile of wood chips, which hissed and burnt in the water.  Left behind was an unconscious man whose head lifted just above the fluid that might otherwise drown him, held to safety by Warne's mind.

 

"That's my therapy."

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Presto eyed the stationary body of their enemy, sighed, and dismissed his wand back to the dimensional pocket from whence it came. "I can't believe that," he said, and took a splashing step towards the AEGIS agent. "I've never seen anything like it in all my life, and I used to fight people like you back then. Whatever Alton's gotten himself involved in, it's heavy magic." He shook his head. "I pumped enough electricity into him to power a city block, not to mention all the other damage he took. My God, if I could absorb hits like that, I'd have never gone to prison." He chuckled, nervously, and then cleared his throat. "What did you do to him, Warne? He was just laughing at us until you... well, I couldn't see it, but I know that you hurt him before knocking him out."

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GM

 

Sadly, when Warne turned to Presto, his eyes were cool and mistrusting again.  If they had a connection during the battle, it appeared to be gone now. 

 

"Pray you never find out," he replied.  The agent plainly wasn't going to discuss his capabilities.  Not with a reformed villain--an adjective that probably came with heavy quotations in his mind. 

 

Bailey rose from the water and began drifting for the stairs with Warne behind him.  "Decent work, Steiner.  I wish you could've kept that little furry goblin inside the building, but I doubt he's in any condition to go far.  By now, the grounds must be swarming with my people.  We'll find him."

 

* * *

 

He was only right about one of those claims.  Although AEGIS agents did indeed cover Bailey's property by the time the two heroes emerged, their reports soon came back negative.  Not that there was any shortage of arrests tonight; Warne had left numerous thugs in his wake, Bailey was of course headed for Blackstone Prison, and even the smallest crimes were not to be ignored.  Samuel had to watch from a distance as two of the sleeping wizards he encountered earlier were, after being roused, led to a black SUV in handcuffs.  Wotts and Manske both had outstanding warrants.  The others would at least be brought in for questioning, and if AEGIS determined that they purchased Starlight voluntarily before being captured, then they might very well be returning to a cell too. 

 

But at least Sam could feel clear, clean pride about rescuing many innocents.  Two teams of animal handlers descended into the basement and transferred the red-gilled pixies to portable containers; they were to be temporarily held in Freedom City under much kinder care until AEGIS could find the best place to release them back into the wild.  As a long line of large, water-filled jars filed past him--the pixies, with their sharp claws and teeth, scoffed at original attempts at plastic bags--more than one creature locked eyes with Presto, put its webbed hands to the glass, and smiled. 

 

Eventually, Warne returned from the controlled chaos that was the aftermath investigation.  He held an envelope in one hand, along with a sheet of paper. 

 

"Baku's gone," he began bluntly.  A thin layer of accusation wrapped around his words, but he left it at that.  As he subsequently pointed out, Presto might face consequences anyway without any interference on AEGIS' part.  "Given your role in this, you should take precautions.  Call us if you see any sign of him.  If you can make that sleepless spell of yours permanent, then I recommend it.  If not, then you should know that our initial reports from his victims here suggest he has a real problem with spiders and their webs.  We're not sure why yet, but we'll get there.  Maybe just don't ever clean your apartment again, if you can't find a magical way to use that."

 

Next, he held out the two items.  "Your pay," he said of the envelope, and as Presto could probably read for himself, "plus a confidentiality agreement.  This should probably go without saying, but we don't like the details of our operations being spread around.  The public has enough to worry about without us telling them what really goes bump in the night."

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Samuel breathed deeply as things unfolded around him. The night was cool, and a pleasant breeze blew by with just enough force to gently ruffle his hair. He had removed his mask, securing it away in the same secretive pocket that held his wand, and had ordered his magical suit to resemble nothing more ostentatious than business casual. His good mood was darkened when he saw the captured magicians led away, their guilt by association already being determined, but he managed to shake those feelings from his mind as the pixies were brought out and loaded up for transport. As they smiled at him, he raised one hand in a wave and smiled back. He felt good. Baku was defeated, and so soundly that he would likely think twice about trying for revenge. Even if he did, Presto would know to be prepared; creatures like Baku tended to be defined by their nature, stuck in a rut dug out by centuries of ritualistic tradition and unlikely to change. That gave the magician an edge, and he would exploit it if necessary. When Warne approached him, Sam's smile faded. The agent's face was as grim and dour as it had been at the beginning, and Presto wondered if he'd made any kind of positive impression on the man at all. By the end of the conversation, he doubted it. He took the envelope and the free sheet of paper, cast a quick glance over the latter, and then made them both vanish into thin air. No real magic, that; just a simple trick of the hand -- but impressive nonetheless. He nodded, voicelessly stating his understanding, and then turned to look at the house. "I'm sorry he got away," he said. "I just... as stupid as it sounds, I just forgot he was intangible. When I cast the spell that let me hit him, I could have nailed him with anything and I chose the one that went boom. It was a stupid, rookie mistake, Warne." He sighed, then turned back. "But, don't worry about the confidentiality. Trust me, I know all about keeping secrets. You don't have to worry about that from me." He pause, thinking. "What about Bailey? As much trash as I talked, he's not well. He needs to speak to someone; just throwing him in a cage won't help him. Eventually, he'll get back out and we'll have to dance this waltz again; there's no telling what he'll do when that happens."

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Warne's eyebrows furrowed when Sam erased his paper from the air.  "...I will need that back," he reminded the magician dully. 

 

He nodded at the apology, seeing no need to absolve Sam of the guilt he felt, and upon his pleas for their mutual enemy, Warne shrugged.  "That's not up to me.  I have little influence and less control over the Blackstone personnel.  However, they tend to handle these matters as humanely as they can.  Like myself, their first duty is to the public, and Bailey is dangerous.  How well he's treated is up to him."

 

The agent looked away for a moment.  A thought came to him.  To say that Warne wasn't known for his heart would be like calling the ocean wet, but sometimes the stars aligned just right.

 

"...You may have heard of the Providence Asylum.  The director there is Dr. Ellis.  I think she's foolishly optimistic, and I doubt she has the pull to transfer anyone Warden Drummer doesn't want to let go of, but perhaps she could arrange for treatment of some kind.  If Bailey's behavior allows for it.  Maybe I'll make a call."

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Samuel motioned with his hand and the confidentiality agreement reappeared between his fingers exactly as it had been, save for one minor detail: now, it was signed. He handed it back over to agent Warne with a sly smile. "If you could," he said. "I'd appreciate it. Alton and I aren't so different, I think. Magic is... seductive. Alluring. There's a desire to have more and a willingness to do things that you normally wouldn't to get it. I wasn't lying when I said it was like a drug. Starlight was just more... literal than is normal." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a paper rectangle. When he passed that over to Warne, the AEGIS agent could see that it was a tarot card. Specifically, it was the Magician. "My card," he explained, and chuckled. "This was... not fun, Warne. But it was interesting, and it feels good to have done something worthwhile. If you need my help again, just give me a call." The sorcerer smiled, whispered a word and vanished into thin air, which closed around the suddenly empty spot with a faint pop. When Warne looked back down at the card in his hand, he could see that it had changed -- now it appeared to be a plain black rectangle with the words SAMUEL STEINER, MAGICIAN embossed across the center in silver type, with a phone number printed underneath.

 

Should he turn it over, he'd find three more words in bold, brash print: EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED.

Edited by Sophistemon
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