ic Dreamweaver (IC)

[Sophistemon]

"Business," Presto mused, stretching out a leg to kick the gun to the far end of the room. It skid over the linoleum before bumping against the thin gray carpeting at the other end of the kitchen. "Business. Your employer has invaded my mind, gentlemen. He has made me relive some very... painful... memories. That's more than just mere business; that's as personal as it gets and I admit that I don't appreciate it." He leveled the wand at one of the men, so close to his forehead that his eyes would need to cross to see it. "How about names, then? Who was that monster with the claws? Is he your employer, or just another enforcer? Who's in charge? Who was in my head? Who sent you after me? Speak, damn you, before I open a Gate and send you to distant Yuggoth to nurse suckling Mi-Go spawnlings."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"Alton Bailey," the thug answered hastily, leaning his head back as far as he could, struggling to get away from the wand.  "He's the boss.  The one that ran off," he added with more than a little bitterness.

 

"He...does things," the other criminal went on, nervous.  "He can change like that, like you just saw.  And some people say...the dreams..." 

 

"But they're not from him--the dreams come from the starlight." He sounded pretty confident.  "So you've been taking some?  It's for guys like you and Mister B., guys who do things, but the dreams should've been nice.  Everybody says they're nice."  Here, he looked away, a hint of confusion coming over his face.  "Mostly."

 

"Yeah.  Mostly."

[Sophistemon]

The magician paused, but the wand remained steadfast. "Alton Bailey?" he asked, his voice rising slightly at the last syllable; a hint of recognition. "The Alton Bailey?" He shook his head. "That's not right at all," he objected. "I know Alton Bailey -- at least, I know of him. The shapeshifting fits, of course; I should have realized... but not the dreams, not the drug. He got his shapeshifting from a wizard as a gift! This sort of magic's beyond him. Almost all magic is beyond him; he's little more than a mystic mercenary!" He pushed his hand forward and dug the silver tip of the wand into the intruder's forehead -- he could feel the cold metal press against his skin. "That monster might have been Bailey, but he wasn't your employer." His voice dipped low, into a sibilant growl. "I want the name of the man behind the man. I want to know who hired Alton Bailey to attack me. I want to know who's making the Starlight and I want to know how they're making it. I want to know how he got into my head without me touching even a drop of the stuff. I want to know everything or neither of you will ever again feel the warmth of a summer's day for as long as I can manage to keep you cold, do you understand me?"

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"I dunno!  I dunno I dunno I don't know I swear man pleeeease!" His voice turned frantic, and he whipped his head back and forth, trying to keep away from Presto's wand.

 

"Mister B.'s the only one we ever see!" his partner agreed.  Fear infected him too, though he doubtlessly was glad that this wizard targeted the other thug instead.  "If he works for somebody else, then he's never told us.  We don't make the stuff, either--he's got other guys for that, back at his place in North Bay.  All we do is sell and do the gun-work, that's it!"

 

Sam, at this point, could hear police sirens in the distance.  He could also smell an unpleasant side-effect of the terror he was inflicting on at least one gangster, but since the mess hadn't made its way to his floor yet, perhaps he wouldn't care.

[Sophistemon]

A grin split his face nearly in half. "You know, I'll tell you something," he said. He leaned in close, so close that the gangster could feel the magician's breath brush hot against the lobe of his ear. "I believe you," he whispered, and then took a step back, removing the wand from its indentation on the man's forehead. "North Bay, was it? Do you think that you might remember the address? My associates and I... we might like to do a little looking around, you understand. If I'm to get to the bottom of this, I might have to dig a little deeper."

Edited July 11, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The men could only nod their consent mutely.  What little energy they had left went toward comforting endorphins, now that untold horrors were apparently off the table. 

 

Sounds also came from the apartments across and below Sam's.  The gunfire had paused for long enough that some people risked looking out their doors, especially with whooping sirens rapidly approaching.  No one dared to actually investigate, at least not yet, but muffled, fearful voices drifted down the hall.

 

The dog in the leather bomber helmet listened to them, as it had listened to bits of Presto's interrogation, which had elicited a frown.  Of course, that scowl first appeared when it watched Bailey come sprinting out of the room and down the stairs, right past it with no attempt at conversation.  This would not do.  This would not do at all.

 

It became an owl with a snap-brim hat and flew through the ceiling like a ghost, before any of these peons could gaze upon its majesty and make the situation even worse.

 

Presto, meanwhile, still had a little time before the cops inevitably ran to his door.  He also probably still had Agent Warne on his cell phone, assuming neither of them had hung up yet.

[Sophistemon]

Sam sighed and took a seat on one of the few remaining chairs. He looked about the room, at the destruction that had been wrought upon his belongings, and grimly mused that Warne probably wouldn't even offer to reimburse him. "Oh. That reminds me," he said, and stood back up. "You two stay put. If you move, the spell knows to turn your eyes into jellyfish -- so stay still and stay quiet." He strode back into the bedroom and retrieved the phone. "Warne?" he spoke into it. "Warne, it's me. Are you still there? I'm all right." He walked back out into the main room. "I hear the police on their way in. How do you want me to play things? I've got three of the four intruders in... let's call it 'custody,' okay? What's my next move? The last thing I want after going through all this is to have it out with Freedom's finest."

[Blarghy]

The response came immediately, although based on background noise, Sam could likely guess that he was on speakerphone.  "Don't worry about the police; I'm the one who notified them."  Well, the first of many, probably.  911 Dispatch received a whole flurry of calls.

 

"They know you're one of...the good guys."  Warne's voice held plain reluctance to make such a claim, but he coughed it out all the same.  A car door seemed to shut, followed by a revving engine. 

 

"I'm fifteen minutes out.  Now what the hell happened?!"  Gunfire and wild shouts painted a picture, certainly, but not one with names or motives. 

Edited July 11, 2016 by Blarghy

[Sophistemon]

"Well," Sam began, the hint of a smile forming on his face. "The creator of the Starlight drug didn't want to wait until tomorrow, so he sent four of his associates to take me out -- they arrived after he invaded my dreams, of course." He dusted the fingernails of his free hand against his chest. "Three of them were gunmen; I have them subdued. The forth took the form of an enormous armored reptile-man, but my captives have told me that underneath the shapeshifting magic he's really Anton Bailey. Do you know about him? He can't be behind it all; he doesn't have the power. Anyway, their headquarters seems to be in North Bay. I'm sure that you know more about interrogation than I do; you can ask them your own questions when you arrive."

[Blarghy]

This report, or parts of it, ruffled Warne's eyebrows on the other end of the line.  It was a fair bit to process, especially without a strong background in magic.

 

"Wh...ahhh...ermm...ooook, then.  That's good.  You're still alive and now we have more leads.  Yes, good.  I don't know much about Bailey; I can recall some rumors about a big game hunter and poacher, but that makes his presence in this enterprise very unusual.  I wonder why a man such as him would be involved; it doesn't seem like his style.  But I'll ask him that after I arrest him for a long list of charges, headed by attempted murder."

 

A hint of a satisfied purr crept into his voice.  Nothing put Warne in a good mood like bringing criminals to justice. 

 

"In any case, you said you captured the three shooters, so I take it that Bailey escaped.  If he's loose, and he knows we're on his trail, then he's probably on his way right now to destroy whatever evidence he can before he skips town.  Get your gear together and be ready to leave; as soon as I arrive, we're going to hit their lair.  Search warrants are difficult to obtain at this hour, but not impossible, and under the circumstances, we might not even need one.  The police can deal with the gangsters; we have a supervillain to catch."

Edited July 11, 2016 by Blarghy

[Sophistemon]

Sam nodded. "That's fine by me," he said. "I'll see you in a few minutes, then." He said his good-byes, hung up, and turned to once more face his captives. "Now then," he said, grinning. "Why don't we go around the room, and you can tell me some things that I don't already know about what's going on? The police will be here shortly, so we'll have to be quick." He pointed his wand at the second thug. "You first. What have I gotten into? What's the end game, here?"

[Blarghy]

GM

 

All three men recoiled, much as the chains would allow, when Sam brought out his wand again.  Nonetheless, they appeared confused. 

 

"To...make...money?" the thug guessed slowly.  "That's what it's always about, right?  We sell the stuff, get the money, and that's it.  That's how it always works."

 

The other considered this and seemed to have the beginnings of suspicion.  "...But we don't make much," he pointed out.  "Well, we do.  We get paid.  But we don't charge what we could, and the boss, he doesn't take the usual cut.  Not as much as most bosses.  I think he's in it for the stuff.  The starlight."

 

"He uses a lot of it," the first man agreed.  "Maybe that's it--he's gone all Scarface on us.  It's making him dumb as hell, I know that much."  Distaste came over his expression.  Now that their employer left them in the hands of this maniac magician, whatever thin loyalty he previously felt had withered.  "I guess he just wants to make enough money to keep getting high.  Or whatever starlight does.  They say it makes magic stronger; he's kind of a wizard, sort of?  It might boost his...changing, or whatever."

[Sophistemon]

Presto tapped the fingers of his free hand against his cheek and pondered. "The addiction is true to what I've heard. I did tell Warne that it sounded like the producer was attempting to corner the market -- a sort of 'the first one's free' catch and hold scheme. Maybe that's all there is to it..." He pointed the wand to another of the thugs. "I know that your hideout is in North Bay. What's the exact address, and what kind of defenses can I expect when I get there? I assure you, if I'm caught unawares, I'll come looking for you."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Still edgy and timid, they thought quickly to get that wand put away.  "Guns," one said hurriedly.  "Guys with guns, like us.  I don't think we've got anything like...this." He looked down at the mystical chains, then averted his eyes again.  "But I don't know for sure!  I just never saw something like this.  Nobody's tried to bust the place up yet, far as I know."

 

"Mister B.'s got this mansion on Collins Road.  1797, that's the address.  It's right on the water.  Got a dock and everything; sometimes we use his boats to move the stuff.  ...Oh!  You, uh, some guys get rashes or can't breathe good in the house, 'cause of all the spray.  Mister B. has this thing about bugs, I guess; he's always fogging the place.  Never bothered me unless they just put it out, just made the air taste nasty all the time, but I say it so you know it's not a trap or nothing."

[Sophistemon]

A cloud passed over Presto's face when the captive thug started talking about bug-spray. By the time the man had gotten to the point about there being no traps -- at least, none that he knew of -- the magician was a million miles away. Somewhere, deep in his head, things were beginning to click together. Knicknack had taken Starlight and dreamed of insects, among other nasty things, which went counter to everything else that he'd heard about it. Terry Boyd, the owner of Fortunes Favors, had mentioned that Starlight induced positive dreams -- a factoid repeated by Presto's current visitors. They'd also seemed to think that he'd taken the stuff himself, and had been confused when he'd brought up his own (decidedly negative) nocturnal adventures. Whoever stood behind Alton Bailey, the man behind the man, had the power to influence dreams; that much was certain. And it seemed to be that he was also capable of recreating that power in Starlight. Why most people were granted good dreams and only some, like Knicknack, suffered nightmares he didn't know. Regardless, he felt as though he was on the precipice of something important, if only he could force his brain that extra mile to piece it all together. Insects and dreams: how did they fit together? He blinked himself back to the here and now before nodding to the thug and committing the address to memory. "Thank you," he said, and took a seat. He lowered the wand and stared down, between his feet. It had been a very tiring evening and it wasn't going to be over anytime soon. At just about the point where his guests might feel like getting fidgety, he looked back up. "You know," he mused. "This whole thing could have gone very badly for any one of us. Someone could have been killed, or permanently injured -- and let's be honest, you three were the only ones in this apartment tonight that don't have any special abilities." He licked his bottom lip. "What I'm trying to say is, there's more to life than this, boys. Make some better choices."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

These men didn't have much in the way of connections, but they knew vaguely who Presto was.  His reputation wasn't entirely lost on them.  Former criminals speaking out against crime, but only after they'd been caught and imprisoned, was hardly unheard of, but the danger they encountered tonight packed a harder punch.  The two who could still speak fell silent.  It helped, of course, that they remained terrified of this magician...and it helped more that they knew full well prison awaited them.

 

Hence the sirens outside, and the pounding boots on the stairwell.  Sam could hear the police slowing cautiously as they reached this floor; from past experience, he could probably imagine their slightly-crouched poses, guns ready, as they approached his door, too.  At least this time around, things would be different.

 

This time, he'd made better choices himself.

[Sophistemon]

Presto closed his eyes and took a breath, a deep one. He made a gesture with his right hand, stowing the wand in its hiding place, and then stood with both hands raised above his head, palms out and fingers spread wide. He looked once more at the interlopers and gave them a wink. "Showtime," he told them, and then called out to the police. "Come in," he shouted. "But don't shoot! We're all unarmed in here."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"You're not," one of Sam's prisoners couldn't resist saying sullenly.  Now that the cops were here, he actually began to relax; surely this crazy cape wouldn't execute them in front of witnesses. 

 

A red-faced man peeked around the corner of the door, stared in disbelief at the ghostly chains, but entered all the same.  Such things weren't unheard of in Freedom City.  Besides, AEGIS vouched for this one, to some extent.

 

The officers filed into the room with pistols in hand.  After taking stock of the apartment--compared to the devastating ruin of most superhero confrontations, this one seemed practically tame--they got down to business.

 

"All clear.  Are you injured, sir?" the tall black woman asked Sam.  With no apparent danger, she traded her gun for a notepad, her other hand on her radio.

 

"Hey, Detective?" another officer called to her.  He gestured helplessly to the chained criminals.  "Not really sure how to bring these guys in."

 

"Please do that," the thug begged.  "I'll take the cuffs, just Christ, get us out of here!"

[Sophistemon]

"No," he said, and lowered his hands. "No, officer, we're all fine. No injuries at all, so far as I'm aware." He looked towards the other officer and inclined his head. "I have them ensnared with mystic bonds. If you're prepared to take them into custody, I can release the spell and set them free. None of them have their weapons, so just give the word." Then he looked at the complaining thug. "Stop being so dramatic; you burst in here guns-blazing. I'd have been within my rights to do much, much worse. You should thank whatever god you worship that I'm so forgiving." He winked at the detective. "It really hasn't been that bad. A little magic and a lot of talking, nothing more."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"...Yeaaaahh, I imagine so," she said slowly.  The mystical arts held a place of strangeness and poor understanding for most officers, even among Freedom City's host of oddities.  "Alright, set them loose.  I hope they're not all talked out; we'll have plenty to discuss down at the station."

 

The captives made no trouble during their transition.  Several of the police handled it with practiced proficiency, while the others began processing the crime scene, much as was possible without the official forensics crew.

 

"Awww, man, this one messed himself.  He's not riding in my car!"

 

"Suck it up, Wilks.  You like bleach, right?  Hahah."

 

By the time Sam gave his general statement, other law enforcement arrived.  Three black-suit agents appeared in the doorway as though by a magic of their own.  Reactions were...mixed. 

 

"No!" one thug exclaimed.  "No no no no no!  Not you!"

 

Warne, or at least his sunglasses, tilted slightly.  "Relax, little fish.  I'm not here for you.  This time."  He turned to Sam and jerked his head toward the hallway.  "Come on.  Let's get this done, before their boss floats off into the sunrise with all our evidence.  This ends tonight."

[Sophistemon]

Sam returned the gesture and then cracked his neck. "Agent Warne," he said. "You wouldn't believe the night that I've had. I know where we're going, and I have some things to tell you on the way. Do you have a car we can take?" He took a step towards the door, and then stopped. "Where we're going, there's magic. Alton Bailey, too, is a gigantic lizard-man. If you're going to go in, maybe you should stay behind me."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Sam's offer brought a very rare, if curiously secretive, smile to the agent's lips.  "...Well, Steiner, I appreciate that.  Maybe I'll take you up on it."

 

The corridor rapidly grew cluttered; with Sam and his AEGIS entourage leading the way, police and their suspects behind them, they encountered an investigative team coming from the other direction and a few of his civilian neighbors making nuisances of themselves, demanding answers and complaining about the noise.  Even so, Warne's bitter frown cleared a path nearly as well as his badge, and they soon reached the black sedan parked outside the building.  A fourth agent waited there; he held a tablet in his hands and flipped it around for the newcomers to see.

 

"Traffic cameras caught him at various points along the city.  This one's my favorite.  Here he is on Lindroos Bridge, passing a Lamborghini."

 

The picture may've been blurry thanks to Alton Bailey's speed, but Presto could still note the man's wild expression, his brown hair flying back in the wind, and most noteworthy, legs twice as long as they should be.  His clothes were tattered and burnt, as Sam (and his wand) would well-remember.  To the right was a canary-yellow sports car, its driver staring in furious disbelief. 

 

"Lizard-man, hmm?" Warne said.  He opened the car door, motioned impatiently inside, and already fished for his cigarette pack.

[Sophistemon]

"Well," said Sam, taking a seat inside. "He had scales when he attacked me, and he still had scales when I sent a lightning bolt into his chest. If he's changed since, that's just Bailey being Bailey." Once they were both in the car, Presto began to fill Warne in on everything that he needed to know, starting with their destination's address. He told him about the dream invasion, and how he thought that it was related to the effects of the Starlight drug. He told him about what the thug had said about the bug-spray and how that might relate to Knickknack's own nightmares. And he told him about how he felt that something was missing. "I just can't quite piece it all together, Warne," he mused. "I don't know if there's something wrong with me, but I feel like the puzzle's incomplete." His eyes widened. "My God, they were in my head, Warne! What if they did something to me? Maybe that's why I can't figure it out!"

[Blarghy]

Warne listened patiently throughout. By the end, he lifted his eyebrows.

 

"...Well, if you go Manchurian Candidate on us, I'm afraid we'll have to shoot you.  So please warn me if you begin to have delusions of violence.  If it helps, I don't have a solution yet either.  But it's a magic drug; bug-dreams sound like a reasonable side-effect to me.  If Bailey has been using his own stock, then it stands to reason that he'd suffer just like anyone else.  I can't speak as definitively about your own dream.  Normally I'd accuse you of slipping a dose yourself; that'd be the simplest explanation, but we know from your audio-wire how much starlight you bought from Boyd and it's all accounted for, so that doesn't seem to be the problem.  I suppose I can get on board with some kind of dream-wizard in this organization, whether it's Bailey or someone else.  Whoever they are, I'll arrest them too.  Mental invasion is still a crime, even if it's hard to prove."

[Sophistemon]

The magician nodded. "No, I... I don't feel like I'm going crazy. Maybe a little fuzzy... muddled, you know? Thought, that might just be the excitement. I haven't done anything like this in a long time." He leaned back in the seat and rested his head against the cushion. "Of course, back then... well, at the end, I wasn't in the front seat of a car, you understand." He smiled, and closed his eyes. "Hmm. Whoever this person is, Warne... the man behind Bailey... I don't know." He shook his head. "I still don't understand the end-game. Why make the drug so cheap? Just to spread the dreams, good or bad? Does taking the drug make it easier for him to get into your head? I've got so many questions. Remind me of that, in case I look ready to tear his head off."