Here Comes The Rain Again

[Avenger Assembled]

November 26, 2014 

Southside 

 

"Ugh." As the thunder rolled overhead, Fast-Forward stopped under a bus stop to change. "I hate running in the rain," he muttered to himself, "my whole front is soaked!" But it was less than a second, literally, for him to be in a fresh outfit. Sitting on the shelter's bench, he took out his hand-written directions, having as usual spurned advice to put directions on his phone. Don't need to carry that thing anyway. "OK, the guy is right here, and man, this neighborhood went to the dogs!" Southside had been a favorite hangout of his back in the day when he'd been young and stupid (and also awesome!) and this particular street had had the best spots. Vinny's is now a gay bar with no pub food and the old newstand is gone...oh man, this was the place where we got that costume of Paige's that - well, he certainly didn't mind his wife overhearing those thoughts (if she happened to be listening), but they certainly weren't productive for what was supposed to be a business conversation. 

 

"All right," he said aloud, "this place looks a little hinky, but magic people are always a little hinky." Not gonna burgle some guy's house unless he's a bad guy, so I'll wait till I know who's in there before I search the place. Phantasmo sounds like a legit name for a wizard, probably. Rechecking his black and white jumpsuit, cool shades, and high-topped sneakers to make sure he looked not just like a superhero but like a totally radical superhero, he headed over and zipped into the abandoned store at super-speed. 

[MisterShoebox]

Now - normally, when Phantasmo has company, he's happy to entertain. More than happy to entertain, even. He's an entertaining guy. NOT when said company busts in going ludicrous speed into his home uninvited. He scuttled down from the upper story like an over-sized, theatrically dressed crab, discarding his empty beer can as he did so and surveying the intruder. Oh, bollocks - it was one of those "Superhero" types. 

 

He didn't REALLY have anything against them - to the contrary, he likes them a lot, but they also make headaches because they usually bring...evil buggers with great fiery fingers and shooting lightning out of their ears or some such nonsense. Still, no need to be un-neighborly. He hops down from his precarious perch on the upper floor and taps the new arrival on the shoulder as politely as he possibly can - hoping to CHRIST his moustache was still groomed. 

 

"Bee in your bonnet, speedy? Some reason why you thought - "Ooh, Ta, Think I'll pop in for a kip and wake him at the god-forsaken hours of the morning? D'you have any idea what time it is? Just 'cause I don't need to sleep anymore doesn't mean it's not bloody rude to knock on the door first! Manners, lad - look into them!" He gave the new arrival the once over. "...Ye gods, man, is that what you young people are dressing like today?! I thought the Beatle Generation was bad - and we dressed like idiots! Wore our hair like...muskrats." 

[Avenger Assembled]

Gah! 

 

"Gah!" exclaimed Fast-Forward as he was suddenly on the opposite side of the room, in fact with his back against the door as he looked at the hideous abomination. I thought I was being nice letting him come down at me that slowly so he could do the cool old expert thing, man! "Listen, pal, I'd have tried calling ahead, but you don't have phone service and they took all the payphones out of the neighborhood for those stupid Internet kiosks." 

 

Is that really his face? Hot damn! 

 

Phantasmo was a pretty hideous son of a gun, Richard had to say, but he'd seen some pretty hideous sons of guns in his day and he was a professional. "Anyway, are you Phantasmo the Unliving?" I guess you are, probably! "My name's Fast-Forward, and I'm looking to hire someone for a magical consultation." 

[MisterShoebox]

He gave a flourish and a bow, rolling his top hat to the end of his gloved hand before putting it on his head again. He was dressed immaculately, in a well-cut suit and cape with a domino mask that really didn't seem necessary, as he was already dead...but it did somehow WORK with the appearance.  "Yes indeedy - I am indeed Phantasmo, the UNLIVING!" he added a bit of emphasis to that last part. 

 

"And magical consultation? What, you mean like how to do this?" He snapped his fingers and a bouquet of flowers appeared in his hand. "Or this?" He reached behind his own ear and removed a half-dollar coin. "Or this?" He vanished in a puff of red smoke and appeared next to Fast-Forward. "That bit's still cool, if I do say so myself. Kills at the old charity shows I sometimes do. The kiddies love it." He 'ported over to an old, leather easy chair by a book case that seems to have been made from stacking several trash cans on top of one another.  

 

"Sorry, duckie - it's genuine magic. Have to get it the old fashioned way - well. I had to die for it, so that's not old-fashioned. Quite new age, actually - sorry, getting distracted. Now - a deal or a lesson can't be made on an empty stomach or a dry throat, as my dad used to say. He was a barber, you know - ran a little shop and used to charge fifteen pence for a shave, seventeen for a good cut." He got up from his chair and walked over to a mini-fridge plugged into a wall socket in the corner. "D'you know I still get power here? Damnedest thing, I know - but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth." He opened it and removed two cold ones. "Here we are! Bulgers okay, mate? Don't have anything fancier, sorry."

 

It was astounding, really, how energetic he was. And how he was able to talk so much. 

Edited November 27, 2014 by MisterShoebox

[Avenger Assembled]

Fast-Forward cracked open the beer and took a drink. "Hey, you're a Brit, all right. We did a shoot there last year for our World War II special, first time I'd been back there since I was a kid. That first Britannia, she's a real firecracker!" Leaning against the store's old counter, he went on. "Listen, a couple of years back, I, ah, came into the possession of a magic artifact. I messed around with it, I got it to work, and now I want to make sure there's nothing grody about it. I did some busking back in the day myself-" he snapped his fingers and a coin appeared at super-speed, "but I don't know the first thing about real magic, and I want to make sure this isn't one of those soul-sucking things that'll mess me up. I've gotta set a good example for my kids, and if I'm running around with devil horns or something, I don't want them thinking that's okay." 

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo nodded. "Right, that's the thing, isn't it? Welp - let me take a look and I'll tell you if it's just a harmless bauble or if you're going to explode or get Demonic Dysentary or what not." He cracked open his beer and took a deep pull. "Ooh, a shoot? You on the telly, then? I used to be on that - 'course, that was back in the 80's before all this "Internet" nonsense." 

 

He glanced at the coin and nodded. "Fancy trick, lad. Very fancy. I wish you'd been with me during this one show in Vegas, right - and this was when I was Mystico, The MAGNIFICENT - my assistant, a bloke named Sam, had forgotten to bring the prop coins - and we had to delay for fifteen minutes asking the audience for change! Hah! Still, it was a fun little show."

 

The zombie indicated a table near the door. "Have a squat, man, and old Phantasmo will take a gander at it." He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for his super-speedy guest. 

[Avenger Assembled]

Fast-Forward sat down at the table and reached into the leather jacket he wore over his jumpsuit, pulling out an old-fashioned journal bound in cracked black leather. "As far as I can tell, this used to belong to Violet Pennyworth, the most powerful wizard in the world. At least, until 1893, when she bought it. Got a whole speech about that from this lady my wife knows out in LA..." The pages inside were covered in cramped, crowded handwriting written so small as to be nearly unreadable, joined by the occasional cryptic illustration, all of it handrawn in grey pencil that somehow seemed magically bonded directly to the paper itself. "Like I said, I don't know beans about this stuff, but when I draw the marks in the air and I call on the stars, I can do some crazy stuff. Once dropped a starburst on a whole gang of punks - and another time I blew a hole five feet deep in Route 66! Man, had to work for like ten minutes fixing that." 

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo nodded and hmm'd as he examined the book. "Hmmmm...." He ran his hands over it, gently flipped it open, closed his eyes (WEll. the lights behind his mask dimmed, anyway) and finally issued a proclamation. "This...is a very old book." he said finally.

 

He laughed then. "Just pulling your leg, ducky. While I'm not what you'd call an expert in all things "Merlin" and "Woo-woo" as my brother used to call it, I can say that this person really did know her stuff. Anyway -   "I, Violet Pennyworth...yadda-yadda-yadda...the magical essence of the Behenian stars...something something...using Hermetic ritual and incantation to summon the mystic energies of those fifteen stars to Earth for great power, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.  Unfortunately, this book is only half-way finished - still, there are rumors among my more learned colleagues that the poor woman had a bit of a...scrape, with a bunch of stupid buggers attempting to summon someone called The Unspeakable One, which was what killed her."

 

He scoffed. "'Unspeakable One' - Daft name if you ask me - how can anyone summon you if they can't speak of you, seems rather idiotic - but cultists are an odd bunch by any standard. Just look at that Scientology lot for proof of that." 

 

He hands the book back. "Sorry I can't be of more help, old son." He cracks open another beer. "But I'm not exactly an "expert" in occult artifacts. - if you have anything owned by Houdini I'd be happy to take a look and tell you what it's worth, though. Ooh - nearly forgot. I've got a few ciggies in the pantry if you'd like to partake."

Edited November 29, 2014 by MisterShoebox

[Avenger Assembled]

"That's about what I heard," said Fast-Forward, a little regretfully. Damn! If I take this to the Master Mage or something, he'll probably want me to give it back and - he thought of Professor Psion, now embodied and free to hunt his family, and if he was honest he also thought of the step or two he was losing every year. And I can't have that. "I've taken this to some people back in LA and they couldn't tell me much more than that. Evidently starry magic is boring and complicated even for people who have been to the Magic Jedi Academy, so most of them don't bother with it. Good thing I can do it at super-speed, right?" he said with a grin. "Some of those cultists are still around today," he added more seriously. "Bunch of psychopaths. Too bad about the lady, she seems nice. Talks a lot about how nobody took her seriously even after she was Master Mage because she was a woman. Too bad."

 

He looked at Phantasmo and added, "Hey, uh, do you have a way of turning your face down? Because bum steer or not, I still owe you something for looking this over for me." 

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo shook his head. "Sorry, mate - what you see is what you get. Mr. Infamy apparently plays for keeps - Wish I'd known who he was when I struck my little deal with him. There's a bastard who deserves a swift kick in the nadgers and that's true enough." He sipped his beer.

 

"Tell you what - info for info. For instance - how'd you get hold of this little diary, duckie? Were you the one who made off with it in '93? No skin off my face if you were - hah, talking about skin on my face, I barely have any. I'd be in a bit of a dim spot to point fingers, wouldn't I? Still, could you be a right sort and satisfy my curiosity? I promise on my grave I won't do the whole "Have at thee" nonsense and try to have a go at you. Scout's honor. And I was one...for about two years before I got kicked out for knocking Bobby Sedgewick's teeth in. The little snot had it coming by having a go at my mum, though. And I was seven....so, there was that. Seven year olds aren't known for handling anger, you know."

 

He took another bit of beer. "Good Christ, this is good. D'you know how much you miss a good chug when you've dined on fine wine, massive steaks, and thick stogies  for over 19 years? It's astounding how good a good old Bulger's can taste. It's the simple things in life you treasure, old son. That's a word of wisdom right there." 

 

He goes over to the little refrigerator and gets another beer. He tosses it to Fast Forward. "Cheers." 

Edited November 29, 2014 by MisterShoebox

[Avenger Assembled]

"1978, actually. 1993 was the year I retired from the crime game and became a productive member of society, you're probably thinkin' a' that. A jerk tried to _swipe_ it from me that year, but I put him on pause and left him for the Canadian cops." A couple of beers in, Fast-Forward started to relax, though not before he moved around the shop in a sudden blur of motion. "This guy, I can't remember his name for the life 'a me, but he was this skull-faced old Malador-wannabe, he hired my ma to do some bodyguard work, but it turned out his definition of bodyguard work was the kind where he gets to sleep with his bodyguard. So we ripped him off pretty good before we left to make up for our trouble, and Ma squealed on him to the Crime League so he wouldn't take advantage of any more 'single mothers in difficult circumstances', as she put it." He shrugged. "Statue of limitations is long since expired and that guy's dead with no heirs, but you never know with some types." He crumpled the can in his hands and went on. "Your family know what happened to you, man?" 

[MisterShoebox]

"Oi! What're you doing darting around my home? " the zombie growls, a bit put out. "Stay still when someone's talking to you, my son, that's just polite!" he sips his beer. "When I was a kid, I was darting around all over the place, but I outgrew it - put my old nanny off her rocker, the way I wouldn't sit still. Oh, you would have liked her, duckie, she was a tough old bird who used to make my brother and I do lines if we misbehaved. Had this old blackboard in the living room and everything."

 

He sighed. "Sorry, Fastie old sport  - didn't mean to lose my cool there, just a bit put out. Like to have someone sit still so I can talk to them proper." He cracks open another beer.

 

"And naaah, my family doesn't even know I'm alive. My brother's down in sunny Florida, and his family's spread out. Best that way, I feel - we didn't part on the best of terms and me just popping up looking like a rotten bag of something the cat dragged in probably won't fix that, will it? My ma and pa died long ago, and I never married...though..." he looks thoughtful. "Still doesn't mean I might not have a kid somewhere, considering the...ah...perks...of being a famous magician, specially in the Wild 70's and 80's, as it were. Good grief, that'd be a bit of a shock. Little nipper popping up one day and saying "Hullo! I'm your grandson-or-daughter!" He shudders theatrically, letting his bones rattle - they actually rattle, as in one can hear rattling noises. 

 

"Anyway, young-fella-my-lad, anything else I can do for you? More beer? Cigar? I used to love cigars, I tell you. Couldn't get enough of them. Got my first one in this show down in London from this big bloke who was setting up stage for one of my shows, right? He handed me one and said - "Smoke up, Mr. Trent, they're the Queen's Ti...uh, time." Phantasmo coughs. "Well, me being a young chap of about twenty-five at this time, I did. Hah, now the ironic thing is - now that I'm dead, I've lost a taste for them!" He laughs - it's a deep, not-quite-sinister-but-a-bit-unsettling sound. 

Edited December 1, 2014 by MisterShoebox

[Avenger Assembled]

"No thanks, tobacco gives me the heaves. And weed is illegal in New Jersey," he added with a wink. "But I will take another beer." He'd been on the hard stuff, a long time ago, but the years he'd spent pulling himself out of that particular hole didn't seem helpful during this cheerful conversation. Geez, poor bastard, stuck in this place with nobody to talk to but street rats. Halfway through this beer, he set the can down. "You know what? How would you like to come back to my place and meet the wife and kids? My wife is in the trade and my kids have seen all kinds of stuff growing up." Hmm. Better call ahead, though. Maybe there were advantages to carrying one of those stupid cameraphones after all. "Maybe you can't eat dinner, but I can do something even better for you. How would you like to be on _television_?" he asked. 

[MisterShoebox]

The zombie pauses. "Well...d'you know what? I'd like that very much, old lad." He seems a little choked up - it's obvious this means a lot to him. "I mean...If it's not too much - wait, did you offer me a chance to be on the telly again?"

 

He 'ports over to Fast Forward's side and shakes his hand vigorously. "Bloody YES I'd love to be on Telly again! D'you know how long it's been? NOt since '91, lad - Show in Paris, with the great Fundelinni - there was a chap who could hold his liquor and no mistake! Hah, we used to paint the town red' till his untimely death. Poor chap, I told him live wolverines weren't good show animals...Anyway,I'd kill for a chance to relive - hah, bad joke - my glory days!"

 

He pauses. "ER...not kill. killing is bad, but you know what I mean! I'd love to! It's...wow! You know what? You need anything else - ANYTHING - you call on old Harry Trent! 'cause you and me - we're like THIS now." He crosses his fingers, or tries to. *CRACK*. "Ohhhh bugger..." He jams the severed fingers back on with a loud *Squelch*. He successfully crosses them this time. He snaps his fingers and a bouquet of roses appears, which he presents to the reformed villain. "Here you are, Fastie. For your missus. Token of my appreciation for your kind offer."

 

"Here - Another drink to new friendships, duckie! Or two!" He raises his can in toast. 

[Avenger Assembled]

"I..." Fast-Forward sat back for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. "Ah, damn! Listen, man, I gotta call a raincheck on the house thing." He looked a little pained. "My wife just reminded me of our leasing agreement. It actually has a no undead and nothing to terrify the neighbors clause, can you believe that? And we need to honor our lease agreement, it seems, because that's how the kids go to school. And evidently I need to stop bringing home people I meet when I'm having beer!" He threw up his hands, the very image of a long-suffering husband. "But the TV thing is still on, man." He took the roses and said, "I'll take these home, maybe they'll sweeten her mood. And I will definitely be by about the TV thing; we gotta get something good for Spookuary this year." He handed Phantasmo his card, hardly flinching at all the man's decay. 

[MisterShoebox]

The zombie took the card and nodded. "Ah, well - c'est la vie, duckie. Perhaps some other time." He 'ports up to the second story where he "livess" and 'ports back down with a video tape. "There you are - bit of the old show when I was young and charismatic and...fleshy." He hands it to Fast Forward. "Later, Fastie! Don't be a stranger and I look forward to being on telly one more time...ah, the spotlight...she never truly leaves." He gives a flourish, a bow...and vanishes. One could hear him in the upper story cursing as he banged his knee, though. 

[Avenger Assembled]

"So long!" Outside, Fast-Forward stopped under the bus shelter again and looked back at the building. "Well, I guess that's okay," he hazarded out loud, patting the book in his jacket pocket. "I now have official permission from a real dead magician to cast spells invented by a Master Mage! Radical!" He took out the book itself for a microsecond, careful to keep it out of the rain. "You can't judge a book by its cover," he murmured, "but you can tell how much it costs..." He hesitated for a minute or two, a near-eternity, before sliding the book back in his pocket and taking a long, leisurely run back home that would take him out of the rain and back home in just a few minutes. Maybe I'll bring the zombie home next time...