2013.06.06 - And Now, For My Next Trick...

Night has fallen over Morrisania, and the smaller shops along Melrose avenue have all closed for the night. Nocturnal traffic runs up and down the avenue in a continuous hum of motors, and as eight o'clock strikes, the bells from the Saint Peter and Paul Church ring faintly in the distance. A lonely figure slinks along one of the alleyways, keeping to the shadows when it can as it approaches some of the more out-of-the-way stores, outside of the heavier traffic. The figure is dressed in what could best be described as rags- his vest is blood-stained, though the blood is dry. There are multiple holes on his jeans and vest, and even on his shirt, as if someone had attempted to knife him several times unsuccessfully (or not entirely so, judging by the state of the vest). The feline also has a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. He moves carefully and quietly, trying to make sure he is not seen.

Sitting atop one of the buildings, Zack's ditched the glasses since he doesn't want to not see everything. The dark haired lad's blue eyes watch the comings and goings, and when he sees the feline moving trying not to be seen, the teen closes his eyes and whispers softly, his body seeming to shimmer before he does a swan dive off the rooftop. However, rather than falling uncontrollably, he begins drifting slowly down towards the ground.

Vorpal stops before the window of one of the stores. He notes the name and adress, and takes a look at the clothes out on display, putting his hands up to the window.

He looks down at his very much abused clothes- he's even going barefoot- and realizes that they're not going to last that long. Especially when getting into fights with gangs. Satisfied that nobody is in the immediate area, he looks inside the store using his night vision, trying to see if there are any cameras.

Landing neatly on a nearby fire escape, Zack's rather suspicious of Vorpal's actions right now. He's trying to keep an eye on the cat man without drawing too much attention to himself. Taking a small little band from his sleeve, he's prepared if something should happen.

The cat-man sighs. "It's either that or go naked eventually..." He focuses for a second, and he vanishes into thin air, reappearing inside the store almost instantly. He sways for a second and then steadies himself, rubbing his forehead and walking further into the store.

"Bind the target." Zack says as he tosses the band towards the catman, as it is thrown it transforms into a narrow stream that seeks out the cat-man to try and bind him into a still point. Even as Zack releases the band, he's drifting towards the store, pulling rapier out as he goes,"I do believe you should give in now." The teen says in clipped British tones, that would indicate he's probably from near London.

The band latches itself around Vorpal just as he is moving inside into the store. "What the---" he looks down at the stream, and then he hears the voice coming from outside. Looking over his shoulder he sees the floating teenager. "Is this thing yours?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You were stealing. It seemed more convenient to stop you before you did something you might regret." Zack says as his feet come to a rest on the floor. He's not really flying so much as drifting slowly down. Now that he's there, his body shimmers again the spell dissipating. "Now, if you promise to not go committing an act of larceny, I'll release you." He says standing there rapier held at salute level.

Vorpal smirks. 'Ballsy kid, I'll give him that', he thinks. "Alright, kid... first things first, you're in my turf, so to speak. I'm the one who keeps this area safe. And second: I wasn't stealing..." and at this point, he falters. "Well, not exactly." He grumbles. He realizes the kid's got him by the short hairs in this. How did it look for a so-called protector of the Bronx to take things out from shops? The fact that he had written down everything he had taken over the past few months- price, quantity, and store- with all the intentions to pay back once his situation improved didn't really attenuate anything. Until he actually put money in the till, he was stealing.

"Perhaps the first is true, but the second is about as true as saying that the Loch Ness monster wears a kilt as goes stepdancing on thursdays." Zack says smirking a little bit at the cat-man. "I just happened to be nearby when you did your thing." He says casually pointing his rapier towards Vorpal, "So will you step down?" He asks firmly.

Vorpal narrows his eyes, his hackles rising slightly. "I don't take kindly to being confined. Release me." He says in an even tone. Pride forbids him from elaborating exactly on why he can't promise not to take again. He tests the bonds and starts thinking---

"Well I can call the police?" Zack says the bindings stretching around the movements. "I can release you if you just say that you will leave this place now." He says casually radiating an utter sense of calm.

"Oh, for crying out loud--" Vorpal grumbles. "Kid, there are things I'd honestly rather not explain to you, but which make it impossible for me to promise what you want. Now let me go already." he snarls, starting to lose his patience.

"I don't care what you think. Now, unless you want those to tighten just say you're leaving." Zack says pointing the rapier at Vorpal again,"I'd rather not have to hurt you. My magic is quick, and if you think that's the only thing I can do..." He says casually.

"I'm quite sure it is." The purple cat says casually. "So is mine." He doesn't even gesture, but he vanishes in a heartbeat- he will attempt to Sidestep--as much as he hates Sidestepping in such a short time--and appear behind Zack, to wrap his arms around him so that when the bonds come for him, they'll inevitably have to wrap the wiz up as well.

"Do you really want to get into a contest?" Zack asks not seeming to mind getting wrapped in the bonds as well. "I will not release you just so that you may rob from this place." He says matter of factly,"You can hurt me all you like."

Vorpal shivers at the second Sidestep, but he keeps himself steady. "I don't want to hurt you, kid. But I'm not going to jail. And unless you really want to foist a naked vigilante onto the good people of the Bronx, I need to borrow something from in there. Now, we can have it your way and we can stay like this until the morning. I'm sure your parents are going to be tickled pink when you don't get back home, wherever it is. And even tickled pink when we're found like this here with you dressed like you're going to catch a wave. I ain't got a family. Nor a home. I have all the time in the world."

"Do you really think my parents are unaware of this?" Zack asks laughing a little bit at the vigilante,"THat's not /entirely/ true. I could conjure you something to wear if you so desired. It would take me a few minutes to properly prepare the spell but it's doable."

"You'll excuse me, but I don't trust someone who is shackling me up to conjure up the clothes I'm going to wear. I have no reason to trust you whatsoever." This was a terrible pickle. That damned spell was going to follow him wherever he went. Unless it depended on the wizard being conscious? He doubted it was that simple. "But you've also forgotten one thing," he says as he looks aground, narrowing his eyes "A very important thing."

"I am only shackling you up because you were committing a crime." Zack says shrugging a little bit,"I have no reason not to do far worse to you than shackle you." He says in an almost cold manner. "I can hit you with my rapier as well."

"There's that. But then, there's also another thing coming to you if you do, if you look up." Vorpal says, materializing a small glowing purple anvil with the words 'ACME' emblazoned on the side, suspended in mid-air over Zack's head. "But that's not as important as that... look to your right." He says, suddenly dropping his voice. "We've got company."

"This is also up to you. All you need do is leave this place." Zack says as he stands perfectly still,"Do we really need to do this? I've offered you a way to get what you need and be unbound." He points out seriously,"You're the one that's supposed to be the grown up."

"It ain't as easy as you think, kid." He says brusquely, and narrows his eyes as he sees shadows down the street. "Look, kid, this is Padres territory, and they've got one hell of a grudge with me since I cut off their main supplier with Huntress. Do you mind if we had this conversation somewhere else? There's an abandoned warehouse north, just a few buildings down that way. Let's go there an out of, you know, gunshot range, and we can talk." He hated negotiating with a...what, thirteen, fourteen year old? But the kid could whisk magical ribbons.

"Very well however, if you try and grab anything I will put them back even tighter." Zack says as he causes the ropes to release, but still hover as if prepared to rewrap around their target with a single word. "Shall we?"

Vorpal narrows his eyes, clearly incredible hostile to the thought of being bound up. "Follow me, and stay quiet." He says, and takes off running, climbing up the building with surprising agility in order to rooftop-hop towards a warehouse. It is clear which one he means--it looks terribly dilapidated.

Whispering softly, Zack launches himself upwards his body streaking through the air as he jumps up to the top of the nearest roof and then follows after the Cat-man, although at a few steps behind because he doesn't have the cat-man's agility. He's just supplementing himself with magic.

Vorpal frowns as they run close. He quickly jumps over the gap between two buildings and slides down an open skylight in the abandoned warehouse.

The warehouse has been abandoned for quite some time, that much is evident. It is in great disrepair, and not entirely structurally sound as pieces of detached masonry litter the floor. All the windows except the topmost windows by the catwalks have been boarded up. But in the disrepair there is a little corner of order where Vorpal has pulled a rather threadbare mattress. Nearby there is an upright mirror, cracked, and then a few cans of canned food and bottled water. On the floor near the mattress there are sheets of paper detailing items, cost, quantity and the stores from which they were taken. In another, there is a total sum of how much Vorpal owes to each store by month. The months are many, and the prices keep adding up.

The only other thing in this abandoned warehouse of note is the wall near the mattress, which has quite a few newspaper clippings pasted to the wall-- the clippings have been bleached out by the sun, probably when it comes streaming through the skylight during the day- but some faces are recognizable more than others---Batman. Wonder Woman appears quite a bit. Superman. This seems to be the entirety of Vorpal's worldly possessions.

The cat-man pauses at the catwalk, looking out through the windows with narrowing eyes, making sure nobody was around to see their entrance.

Stepping into the warehouse, Zack slides his rapier back into the loop on his waist. "Now, shall I conjure you up clothing or shall I just leave? At this point you have fulfilled my request and you've left that place without taking that which doesn't belong to you." He says in his clipped tones.

Vorpal gaves him a smirk. He grabs the pages by the mattress and throws him at his face. "Save the sermon, kid, and read."

"I am not sermonizing. It's truth." Zack says batting the pages away,"There's nothing there that gives you the right to take things since it isn't a deed to the store. Now... My offer still stands." He says casually. He doesn't look irritated, even if his voice sounds it.

"Dear Cheshire cats, you're dense," he says, shaking his head. He looks at him with a piercing yellow-green stare. "You're an uptown kid, aren't ya?"

"Does that matter?" Zack asks quirking a brow at the cat-man, "There's right and there's wrong." He says firmly, giving the catman a hard look right back.

Vorpal snarls and punches the mirror, sending shards flying, and cutting his hand in the process, but he doesn't seem to bother. He turns his eyes on Zack, and they are glowing yellow-green. "Don't lecture me about right and wrong, child." He says, in a voice that echoes around the warehouse in a manner that is most unnatural. "I have been fighting in these streets probably since before you were out of diapers. It was me and the boys that kept the Padres and the Saints at bay from swallowing Morrisania--because, you know what? Everybody forgets about this part. And it was a goddamn pompous magic user just like yourself who sliced my throat open in one of his little magical rituals to do goodness knows what. And because of THAT night, when I died saving some girls from that wacko, is why I look like THIS," he points at himself, his eyes glowing red.

"A freak. A freak whom nobody likes to hire because, you know what? A lot of people don't want someone like me working for them because they don't want any troubles with capes. They figure that as soon as they hire someone like me, some costumed weirdo is going to blow up the place--- and why should they think otherwise? It happens all the damned time!" He huffs.

"I've got no family and nowhere to go, and nowhere to work. So you'll excuse me, your little highness, if I see myself reduced to taking the bare minimum to survive from the good people around here. You think I like that? No, I don't. But I'm working towards trying to find a way out of this damned mess, and when I do I'll make it up to every single store I've written up, whatever the damned consequences. So the LAST thing I need is the sermon from a goddamned posh prepubescent Zatanna who probably has never had to go hungry in his goddamned life!" At that, the black stripes on his fur start glowing with a purple light as his power of illusion is triggered by his extreme emotions. He looks down at them and growls. ".... see what you made me do?"

"Repair." Zack says pointing to one of the mirrors, causing it to fix itself. He knows how to use magic even if he's not very skilled with using only what he wants in terms of power. It's just good he's got a lot of the stuff in him. "There are good and bad of anything. I am not trying to harm you, all I have done now is offer to craft things that you require. So if you will excuse me if I don't really care so much for what you think of me." He says in a very calm very polite voice, his face going to a blank expression. "It is true I've had what meals I require but that does not stop me from knowing what needs done. Now, if you wish I can provide you with some food and clothing, and perhaps even help with the wounds. As for your transfiguration from a regular human into your current status, I am unable to do anything about it. Magic on that level requires a lot of things that I simply do not have access to right now. So if you want, I can provide you with food." He says casually.

"Now are you done insulting me or would you prefer to continue on because this is not the worst I've ever heard from someone who has decided that they know a lot about me. Do you think someone acquires power of even my level without some sort of suffering?" Zack asks looking at Vorpal rather coldly,"So do you wish my aid, or shall I go forth and deal with the other things and leave you to get things through whatever illegal way you choose and instead of being a hero to others, you can be just another person looking to serve their interests." He says stretching a little bit,"Don't blame me for what you did. You're the adult and the one supposed to control their emotions."

And without preamble, a deep, resonant voice cuts through the air.

"Gentlemen," it says, coming as if from the proverbial thin air, and an instant later a loud "TAP" echoes through the room--and then, those with mystic senses may be aware of a new, reasonably potent source of power in the room, just as the source of the sound becomes apparent: the tip of a long, black cane, heeled and handled in silver, striking the ground. Holding it, an aged-looking man in a somewhat outdated but impeccable dark gray suit and flowing black Inverness coat.

As the old man appears, he strides in closer from whatever corner of the warehouse he crept out of. "This bickering is pointless. The boy may be brash and cocky, but he also has a point--you are a person in need, and you are tied to magic, so there is nothing to be gained from fearing those who share in its power." Leveling a cool gaze at the two, he then offers a hint of a smile. "Now. Shall we cease posturing and properly introduce ourselves? There's certainly no reason we can't be civilized about this."

The glow vanishes almost instantly at the man's apparition, Vorpal backtracking several steps, almond-shaped eyes going wide. "What in Wonderland is going on?" he says. Although his birth was due to a 5th dimensional being, he himself possesses no more magic sense than a conjured dove. But there is something about the old man that frightens him, and he does not know why.

It doesn't take much but when Zack looks at the man, he's pretty sure the man has more power in his right pinky than he has in his whole body. He blinks at the man steadily unsure of what he should do. "I guess introductions should be made. I'm Zachary Evingston III." He says sounding a little bit nervous.

"Ah, much better," the man says in that sonorous voice of his, taking the cane in his left hand while offering to shake hands with Zack via the right. "I am Kent Nelson, practitioner of the mystic arts. I assume, young Master Evingston, that it was your magic that drew me hither. Your power seems quite promising--if, perhaps, quite loud at present." He then glances toward the retreating form of Vorpal with a raised eyebrow. "Really now, young man. There's no cause for alarm. I give you my oath: I have come in peace."

"You'll have to forgive me," Vorpal says quietly, eyeing the man, "but I haven't quite exactly had the best of experiences with mages. I'm Vorpal," he says giving only his chosen moniker. Having led Zack here was his first mistake, he thought, but they had to get out of the gangs' turf. Now this strange... sorcerer had found him as well. It wasn't a home- a dirty and dilapidated warehouse with but a mattress, a mirror and clippings of superheroes pasted to the wall. But it was the closest thing he had. And now there were wizards in it.

"I want nothing from magic." He says. And then, taking the man's demeanor, makes a concession of his protestations of peace "-- sir. It may be responsible for the mess it's made of me, but I'm not going to rely on it to fix it." Keith has a fierce and good heart, but also an extremely proud one, the feline nature that was now part of his own.

"If you do not wish my help even in clothing and food and a bit of a patch on wounds, then I will not push it further but you didn't actually reject the offer." Zack points out casually as he considers this for a moment,"Yes... That was my magic. I have trouble with controlling how much energy I use. My sister is far better at that sort of thing that I am." He says shrugging a little bit,"Do not worry about my returning here. This is your home, that means I don't come back to this place without permission."

Once Kent has shaken Zack's hand, he turns to regard Vorpal more fully. Rather offhandedly, he recites, "'He took his vorpal sword in hand: long time the manxome foe he sought -- so rested he by the Tumtum tree, and stood awhile in thought.'"

Gesturing vaguely toward himself with the head of his cane, he continues, "Might I suggest that you take a moment to reflect upon this matter. Perhaps, more than a moment. You are, like it or not, a creature of magic. I can smell its power upon you. Now, you say you have been harmed--I believe it. I also believe that you can choose to be a victim or to be as formidable as any 'vorpal blade' might be. The blade exists--you must choose whether you will be the one grasping the haft."

Hanging the cane casually in the crook of his arm, Kent reaches into his coat's inner breast pocket, nodding along with Zack's explanation, and takes out an old-style leather billfold. He reaches into it, plucking out three crisp, new hundred dollar bills. Notably, they have no particular magic about them. "If you will refuse mystic aid, then I offer you this for whatever needs you may have. There is no magic here, save for the strange alchemy of bankers. It is but paper--legal tender in these United States."

Vorpal stiffens visibly. An angry retort builds in his throat, but a calmer part of him pulls it back. 'Calm down', it tells him, 'they're only trying to help.' He takes a deep breath, calming down slightly. "That money is not for me. Give it to the stores from whom I have taken. It is only my deeper disgrace that I have not been able to pay them back yet by my own means."

"Perhaps there is a way to earn the money. Then you can provide some to the stores that you have taken from." Zack says considering this,"While it is true that you have magic infused into you, and do not control it the way we do, your abilities are useful. The trick that you used to get behind me instantly, is useful in and of itself." He's thinking aloud again. "Perhaps this gentleman could employ you to protect those stores. If his bankroll can afford it that is. You would be paid to do that which you do anyway, and be provided with some form of compensation by someone who has no interest in the matter other than you surviving without inconveniencing another."

Kent shakes his head. "You seem to misunderstand. I am not here to pay your debts. I am here to give you a gift as a show of goodwill." He leaves his hand extended, the money still offered. "If you wish to settle your accounts with this money, then that is your choice. It is a power you will hold. You must decide how to use your power, whether it is the power of the dollar or the power of magic. I cannot and will not decide such things for you."

Then, glancing at Zack, he says, "A novel idea, Master Evingston. There are programs in place, in fact, that--should you choose to become licensed as a guardian of the public good--will allow you to earn an honest living, even in--and perhaps more so because of--your unique state." He slides a card from his wallet with his free hand before tucking the billfold back away into his coat, and he extends the business card as well. "Please, take this as well. It is my card and will allow you to reach me."

That suddenly snaps Vorpal out of it. "There are? Wait- wait... what programs?" He takes a step forward, almond shaped eyes wide. He was just a young man in the Bronx, trying to keep gangs at bay from the poor and the abused. He paid attention to the outside world, of course, but the details themselves that weren't relevant to him-- registration, for example- were things he hadn't really come upon, and for which there was little time in his dangerous world. Sure, he idolized them-- the newspaper clippings already showed that-- but had he ever paid enough attention to the details, when he thought nothing in his life would ever put him even remotely in the same category as the protectors of the city? No.

He walks forward slowly to take the card, but trying to leave the bills behind. There was embarrassment in it aside from pride- the elderly gentleman had been nothing but kind since his appearance. Taking money from him embarrassed him as much as Zack's lectures had infuriated him minutes ago.

Kent gives a little twist of his wrist, and the bills helpfully fold themselves into an origami bird, hopping lightly into the air to float over and land at Vorpal's feet. "Take the money or do not. I have given it freely--you may consider it an investment, if you wish, in your future. For, you see, I am one of those whom society name 'heroes,' and I see it as my place to ensure that our ranks are filled with those of good conscience." Having emptied his hands, he resumes leaning lightly on his cane. "You will find I have written a number on that card. If you call it, a counselor will aid you in deciding whether you would like to become a registered hero, and if so, what steps you should take."

Looking to Zack again, he adds, "And this applies to you as well. While you are a bit young to be a registered hero, you will no doubt require proper mentoring to bring your powers in line. No doubt you have teachers, but--" he gives a slight nod, and another card appears floating before Zack in a small swirl of smoke. "Please do give your guardians my card and let them know that the eyes of Fate are upon you, child."

Accepting the card and nodding his head a little bit, Zack's head snaps up to look at Kent, his blue eyes getting positively huge for a moment before returning to normal. THat phrase does hold meaning to it. "I thought... yes. I'm surprised that you are... Well I'm sure that there would be no questions if you wish to instruct me. There's one thing you should know and that's I always see the ebbs and flows." Meaning his ability to see auras and what have you. The man's power makes so much more sense now.

Vorpal looks at the number, and then hears what the old man says to Zack. 'Now that's a strange turn of phra---'. And that's when the Vorpal express derails when he recalls what the man said about being one of the heroes of the city. If his eyes could get any bigger, they'd fall out of their sockets. " I ... I am sorry." he says in a small, humble voice.

It is quite probable that Hell needs to adjust its thermostat a little higher, since a cat has apologized. Perhaps, for the very first time in history.

Kent gives a soft, perhaps unexpectedly light chuckle and shakes his head slightly. "There is no need for apology, yet I accept yours as a kind gesture of respect. The purpose of this form is to enable me to interact with others as a man, not as--well, as I otherwise might. I suggest that you both follow up on this course, and when you have the time, come to this address." And an address helpfully and invisibly pens itself across the back of the card. "It is an establishment that serves alcohol, but it only caters to those who share our... unusual commonality. Minors are permitted, but they will not serve you spirits. This place, called Oblivion, is a safe haven that you can use--but it is also a place to reach me."

"Why would I want spirits?" Zack says blinking as if the concept had never occurred to him before,"I think my father and mother have gone there before." He says not making any effort to hide the fact he's from a family of magic users that goes back even further. "I can see why. The other name does rather instill a fair amount of... awe." He says grinning a little bit. THe awe is said as if that were a sort of understatement.

Vorpal scratches the back of his neck, looking at the card. "I mean... I'm sorry for how I reacted. It hasn't been the .. easiest of months. And I'm still cranky from being shot. And..." he gives Zack an apologetic look "... I've got this thing about being bound." He was tied when his throat was cut, after all.

"We all have our points of objection," Kent admits to Vorpal with a mildly dismissive shake of his head. "Do not dwell upon it." Glancing to Zack, he chuckles softly. "Yes, Fate is a name that carries great impact. Perhaps it is not strange that I choose, at times, to lay aside the burden of using it." Straightening a bit, he raises his cane and then raps the heel of it on the ground. A moment later, a great shimmering golden portal in the shape of an ankh appears. "Now, I suppose I should let you be about your business. Do think on what I've said." Then, nodding to Zack, he adds, "And please give my regards to your parents."

"If there's nothing else I should be going as well. I have an exam in the morning." Zack says as he makes a a small gesture,"My way isn't quite... smooth but I do bid you both adieu." He says before he makes a running leap straight into a blue vortex, slipping into it and seeming to stretch for a moment before vanishing into its spinning waves. It blinks out of existence a moment after he passes through it.

Vorpal watches the portal, and then Zack making his exit and looks back at the portal again. ".... So this is a thing that just happened..." he says to himself, still a little shaken.

Watching Zack go, Kent continues his chuckle for a bit as he turns toward his own gateway. "Kids," he says offhandedly, giving a slight shrug, and then moves to step through the portal. As he vanishes, the glow vanishing in a flare of golden light, his voice hangs momentarily on the air.

"I do hope to be hearing from you soon."

Vorpal watches the glow disappear, and then looks down at the card. "You bet your tail you will..." he says with a grin.

And then blinks, realizing what he just said, and that there might be a chance that he heard him "---sir!" he adds hastily.