What happens when a man obsessed with magic gets visited by an alien species of unimaginable power and, for some reason, is given three wishes?
He re-writes reality, that's what happens.
This story isn't about him. It's about the people affected by him, and by his actions. A world no longer like our own, where magic works and where, suddenly, humanity has company.
The young man with lank black hair frowned as he stared at the chaos on the streets below, one hand holding open the curtains while the other was scratching idly at the back of his neck. He let the curtain go and turned back to his startling guest.
“D'ya know what the problem is?” the newly-made Mad Wizard asked Alien Aladdin. “There's too damned many humans running around.”
The alien lurking in the small studio apartment seemed to agree, flashing what may have been a cobalt-blue smile that made the human’s skin crawl.
“I asked you not to do that,” the wizard said. “It really creeps me out.” The glowing grin vanished.
“Third wish?” it asked.
If there was an expression on what passed for the creature’s face, the Mad Wizard wasn’t able to figure out what it meant. It was gently stroking the metallic box in front of it with perhaps a dozen of its far-too-prehensile fingers from two of its four arms while a third arm held the box aloft.
“Yes, yes. I’m coming up with an idea for my third and final wish. You just need a little more patience.”
The human, a skinny and gawky young man, flopped down in his faux-leather office chair and wiggled the mouse on his desktop. The alien regarded him with apparent impassivity.
“So, I was thinking, what’s the point of wishing for magic to exist on earth if I’m the only one who knows about it?” he said. His computer was responding sluggishly, and the man clicked his tongue in irritation. “The world is still too ordinary, too boring.” The alien’s sinuous spine rippled in what could have been a shrug, simple impatience, or something else entirely. “I want more. I want a whole world of magic. There’s not enough diversity. Far too many humans, and not enough ‘other’.”
A web browser popped up on his monitor, and he started flicking through several of his favorite forums.
“Look at this, Alien Aladdin.” The alien, making no outward protests regarding the name that the world’s only real wizard had assigned him, undulated up next to him and wrapped several long, grey fingers over the top of his chair. “MMORPG. You know what those are?”
“No. Make third wish, now?”
“That’s what I’m planning on doing. But first, I need you to understand what it is I’m wishing for, okay?”
Again, the alien’s spine rippled, and the wizard decided it was probably annoyance that caused it. The man turned back to his screen, pointing. “Humans, pretending to be different creatures in a world of magic. See? Look here, an elf. Trolls, Orcs, and so on. And this isn’t the only game like this. There are dozens!”
Another screen came up, displaying another MMORPG. “I never played this one, but look. Cat girls! That’s awesome! I’d love to live in a world with cat girls!”
The madman giggled and pulled up some more sites. The alien watched the screen. It was impossible to know if it understood what it was seeing, but it watched intently.
“I want to make that real. All of it. If someone plays a game like this, I want them to become the character they play. If they play more than one, then the one they play the most. Can you do this?”
“All things possible within reason,” the alien replied. It was the third time that day it had said that phrase. A long arm reached behind it and it pulled the metal box forward. “Wish?”
“I think… wait.” Something grabbed the young man's attention, causing him to snort irritably at an image that had come up on his browser. The picture was of a cartoon horse, standing on a table on its hind legs and looking somewhat manic. Someone had posted it in a forum in reply to someone else’s question. It was pink. What the alien thought of it, no one on earth would ever know.
“Bronies. Those guys with their damned ponies all over the internet. I want them in on this, too. They love tiny little horses so much? Let’s see how they like being them!”
Alien Aladdin blinked each of his four huge eyes in succession but said nothing. The human swung his chair around and the alien pulled back slightly to make room.
“Wish?”
“Yes. But only after I make sure that you know what I want.”
The explanation took hours. The human explained what he wanted down to the minutest detail, occasionally adding things like, “And those damned furries, too!” The alien, apparently expressionless, listened.
“Do you understand what I want?”
“Yes.”
“I still want to be the most powerful wizard,” the human pointed out. “In the whole world. By a long shot. No one is to even come close.”
“Yes. Wish now?”
The human grinned. He made his wish, and the alien cooed with delight. It began stroking the metal box, which started glowing with an eerie blue light. The box sent a signal that went out to the spaceship that had suddenly appeared earlier that day in orbit around the planet Earth. The ship, massive and crystalline in appearance, was currently an enormous ring that circled the entire world, casually knocking satellites out of orbit, and had been the cause of much panic and rioting on the surface below.
The ship glowed a matching eldritch blue. By and large, humanity stopped what they were doing to watch what was happening. The prevailing sentiment was fear, and when the glow spread from the ship and began settling over the entire planet's surface, the panic set back in. The ship then vanished, taking the alien with its odd little box with it, with a startling suddenness and lack of fanfare, leaving the world below it... changed.
Mark Johnson hated his suit. Not only didn’t it fit right, but the dull brown color wasn’t his first choice. And he had the sinking feeling that it looked completely ridiculous on him. Still, fussing over the fit and appearance of the suit was less nerve-wracking than thinking about the upcoming job interview.
He had taken the elevator to the fifth floor as he'd been instructed, ignoring the stares from the others in the elevator as he rode. Instead, he concentrated on giving the suit little tugs here and there, trying to adjust the fit at the last moment and, he suspected, only succeeding in making it look more rumpled and awkward than ever.
The doors opened, interrupting his last-minute clothing adjustments. He stepped out and blinked in confusion as he looked around curiously.
His first time in an actual, professional office building wasn’t living up to his expectations. Television had told him to expect stark white cubicles packed end-to-end as far as the eye could see. Instead, once he’d made his way through the open glass doors of the elevator lobby, he found himself in a nicely-appointed reception area. The sand-colored carpet was accented comfortably by the dark wood trim and light brown walls, upon which hung various works of art. Or, he noted critically as he eyed one of the nearest pieces, art-like objects.
The reception area also had several comfortable-looking red cloth chairs, a small coffee table holding some recent magazines, and a large wooden desk that came up almost to his chin. Seated behind the desk was a pretty blond girl, maybe in her mid-twenties, who smiled warmly at him as he entered. To his barely-concealed surprise, she seemed to be perfectly at ease as he walked in.
"You must be Mark," she said. "Please, have a..." and here Mark flinched as she trailed off briefly "...seat."
"Thanks," Mark replied with a nervous smile. "I'll stand, though. More comfortable for me."
"As you like," the receptionist said. "Mr. Welton will be out soon." She then turned back to her computer and began typing.
It was difficult not to begin pacing. This entire place was intimidating beyond anything he'd expected to see, and he could feel himself sweating underneath his suit coat. To distract himself, and to try and seem more relaxed than he felt, he made a show of studying the strange yet bland “art” on the walls.
After a few minutes of examination, he concluded that whoever arranged the art in this building must have a friend who taught art in high school and who sold the students’ art by the pound. It was the one sour note in the otherwise classy reception area.
Shortly after he’d reached this conclusion, a lean, middle-aged man in a dark blue suit came out, blinked in surprise when he saw Mark inspecting the art, and walked up to him.
“Hello,” the man said. “I’m John Welton. And you must be Mark?”
Mr. Welton held out his hand and evidently immediately reconsidered, as he had just begun to awkwardly retract it when Mark reached for it. He recovered smoothly enough, and the two of them shook. “Yes, sir,” Mark said as they shook.
“No ‘sir’ needed, Mark,” Mr. Welton said with an easy laugh. “Just call me John.”
Mark smiled up at him and decided that he would probably like this guy. With his angular face, close-cropped black hair and well-trimmed beard, he looked just a little on the villainous side, but his laugh was genuine and warm. A small amount of the tension Mark had been feeling faded, and he walked after John through a secured door and back into the actual working area of the office. John even held the door open for him in order to make getting through just a bit easier.
"Thanks," Mark said, hurrying past and then stopping to look around. Now, this was more like it. Still not the stark and stale atmosphere you'd see on some television shows, but there were cubicles all over, arranged in rows of four extending back from the main corridor. They still had the nice wood trim, and the interiors were a cloth-covered brown rather than the white he'd been imagining, but it was more of what he'd expected.
Mr. Welton let him rubberneck for a few seconds before taking the lead and bringing them both to a small conference room and closing the door behind them. The table in the room was circular, with six chairs spaced evenly around it. As John sat, Mark considered the wheeled chairs critically, then sighed and pushed one out of the way, sitting on the floor directly across the table from him.
“You wouldn’t like a chair?” John asked. “I mean, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable...”
“I’m fine,” Mark replied. “Trust me, I’m used to it.”
“Are you sure?” the other man asked. “We’re an equal opportunity employer, here. If you take the job, we’ll do everything we can to make you comfortable.”
His heart thrilled at the phrase “if you take the job.” He’d been under the impression that he was here for an interview, but Mr. Welton’s phrasing seemed to indicate that the job was his, if he wanted it.
“That would be nice,” Mark said. “But regular chairs are just a little uncomfortable for me now. I can get you some suggestions, though?”
“For chairs that would suit you?” John asked, and Mark nodded. “Well, that would be—”
The conference door opened and another man walked in, this one in his late twenties, clean-shaven and with sandy brown hair. Unlike John, he wasn’t in a suit, instead wearing a button-up shirt, slacks, and no tie. He was already talking as he strode in.
“Sorry I’m late, John. The Inventory group were in a tizzy because of...”
He trailed off, staring at Mark with wide eyes before suddenly bursting with laughter. Mark blinked at him in confusion as the newcomer said, “Sorry! Sorry!” in between laughs and backed hurriedly out of the room.
The door closed. John and Mark blinked at each other in the awkward silence punctuated by wheezing gasps coming from outside. John broke the silence first.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I’ll have a word with him.”
Mark pulled a wry smile across his muzzle and said, “It’s no problem. I’m guessing he’s never seen a unicorn in a business suit before?”
The orc looked up from his drink and waved a thick, green-skinned hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Could you turn that up please?” he growled. The growling wasn’t due to anger, but rather due to peculiarities of his new species and partially to the large tusks jutting up from his lower jaw.
“Sure thing,” the bartender replied, pulling a remote from under the bar. The volume increased, and attention was focused on the screen. It was The Interview. The one that tried, and failed, to make sense of the changes that had happened to the world almost exactly a year before.
“It’s what I always wanted, that’s why,” said a young man in midnight-blue robes as he lounged in a chair. Stephen Colbert was seated in a chair opposite him, wearing a dark blue suit and a red tie. Why the self-styled "Mad Wizard" had wanted to give Stephen Colbert the exclusive interview explaining what had happened was answered in the next sentence. “You know, I’ve always wanted to meet you,” he said with a lopsided smile.
“Thanks,” Colbert said, looking both nervous and eager. He wasn’t using his trademark right-wing persona today, instead directing the interview with the caution of a man trying to disarm a bomb while blindfolded and using a manual written in badly translated English. “So, you always wanted magic?”
“Not just magic,” the man who called himself the Mad Wizard said. “A magical world. That’s why I didn’t stop after the second wish, to be the most powerful wizard in the world.”
“So the first wish was to bring magic to the world?” Colbert asked, his eyebrows lowering as he frowned.
“Exactly,” the Wizard said, shifting in his seat. “It took a while, you know. A couple of hours, actually, to explain it to Alien Aladdin.”
“‘Alien Aladdin’?”
“He had a magic box that granted wishes,” the young man said with a shrug. “Alien Aladdin. It’s not quite accurate, since I suppose he was more of a genie than Aladdin, but hey, alliteration, you know?”
“Sure,” Stephen said warily. “And the third wish... that was the one that remade humanity?”
“Well, not all of it, or even most of it, but yeah. I figured I’d give my fellow MMO players a chance to really use magic.” He laughed lightly and shook his head. “Oh, man, that one took forever to explain. I had to make sure Al got it right!”
“So, how did the alien do it?” Colbert asked. “Did it actually alter the laws of physics, or something?”
“I dunno,” said the Mad Wizard with an uncaring shrug. “Does it matter?”
The orc shook his head. Back when this interview had taken place, humanity had yet to discover the crystal spires, dozens of them, orbiting in a ring miles above the earth’s surface. Leading speculation was that these spires were the reason behind the “magic” that existed now on earth, somehow enforcing the rules that the Mad Wizard had demanded of his alien benefactor.
On the television, Colbert shook off his obvious horror at the nonchalance of the man responsible for altering how the entire world worked as he got back to his line of questioning.
“But the wish didn’t just target MMO players,” Colbert pointed out.
“There weren’t enough of ‘em,” the young man said, gazing upwards. “It’s weird, there’s no ceiling here. I figured there’d be a ceiling, but there isn’t.”
“It’s so we can adjust lighting,” Colbert replied. “But getting back to—”
“There weren’t enough gamers in the mix,” the Mad Wizard repeated. The orc watching the interview snorted in irritation and downed his drink, signalling for another. “So, yeah, I picked basically anyone who spent a lot of time pretending to be someone or something else, and I made them into someone else.”
“And the guns?” Colbert asked. “A lot of people were mad about that.”
“Oh, that.” A thin hand was waved dismissively. “That wasn’t a wish, that was one of my first spells. People were rioting, see, and I wanted to stop it. Then I left it, because guns and a fantasy setting don’t go together.”
“So, guns don’t work,” Colbert said. “How did you do it? I mean, gunpowder still goes off, it’s just that guns won’t fire.”
“Magic,” the Wizard said with a grin and a shrug. “Nukes don’t work, either. Got tired of that crap, everybody going crazy because North Korea had the bomb, Iran either had or was making a bomb, can’t remember. Doesn’t matter now, they’re all just dead weight.”
“Lots of people are happy about that, but even more are upset. Whole nations have branded you an international criminal. How do you feel about that?”
The Mad Wizard laughed shrilly. “Honestly, Stephen, I couldn’t give two shits,” he said. “I just took away the most powerful weapons in the world with a goddamned magic spell. You think anyone out there can put a hand on me if I don’t let them? If they want to take me out, the only way to do it is the new old-fashioned way. Magic against magic.”
He leaned forward and grinned into the camera. “And, if anyone has the nuts to try something like that, I can only say ‘good luck’. You’ll need it.”
“Bastard,” the orc said, and downed his new drink.
"I hate to say it," John said after about twenty minutes of interviewing, "but your typing speed may be a problem."
"I thought it might be," Mark said with a shrug. He ran a silver-grey hoof through his dark blue mane and smiled wanly. "But I'm getting better, even with hooves. And I'm getting pretty good at levitating things."
"Oh, neat!" the more casually dressed of the two men leaned forward with an eager grin. "Can I see?"
"Sure, Tom," Mark said. His horn lit up with its signature cobalt glow. One of the pens resting on the table started glowing as well, then lifted off of the table.
"Oh, that's awesome!" Tom said. He reached out and poked at the pen, which bobbled in the magical field but remained floating.
"I'll never get used to that," John muttered. He cleared his throat and said in a more jaunty tone, "In any case, your resume looks good, and I like you. Unfortunately, I don't make the final hiring decisions. Burt Gimbal is my boss, he'll make the final call."
"Oh, okay," Mark said, hiding his disappointment behind a smile.
"How long did it take you to get used to walking?" Tom asked.
"Uh. Not too long, I guess? Maybe a week or two?"
"Cool. Is that usual for people that go quadruped?" Tom asked, studying him almost rudely.
"Uh, maybe? I don't know. I know I was an unusual case though." Mark replied.
"Why's that?" John asked.
"I couldn't walk before the Advent of Magic, either." Mark smiled at the look on the two men's faces. "I had cerebral palsy, a pretty bad case. Spent almost my whole life in a wheelchair. I can honestly say that being turned into a unicorn pony is probably the best thing to happen to me."
"Wow, that's—"
Whatever it was that Tom was going to say was interrupted by a peremptory knocking, followed by the door opening. An older man strode in wearing an expensive-looking grey suit. Mark guessed him to be in his sixties, at least. His head was bald except for what Mark liked to call a "Picard ring" around the back of his head, a thin strip of snow-white hair. His watery blue eyes took in the scene in the conference room as John and Tom stood respectfully. Mark imitated them, getting up on his hooves.
"This is our applicant?" the man said, eyes widening. "You're kidding, right?"
"Uh," John said, exchanging a look with Tom. "Burt, maybe we can talk about it outside for a minute?"
The two older men exited and closed the door. Mark could hear them talking as he and Tom sat across from one another in the ensuing awkward silence. The muffled discussion was almost completely inaudible, but Mark's ears twitched on his head as he caught "a good kid" and "a freakin' unicorn" at different times.
Tom offered him an apologetic smile. "Sometimes it sucks waiting for certain people to retire."
Mark smiled weakly back. A moment later, the door opened and a frazzled looking John came back in.
"Mark, I'm... Look, I'll keep your resume, alright?" He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, messing it up. "But, if I were going to be honest, I wouldn't hold your breath. You have an impressive resume and did a great job on the interview, though."
"I get it," Mark said stiffly as he got back up.
"Look," John said. "Why don't you try again after the Supreme Court makes it's decision? It's expected that they'll extend equal employment to the afflicted..."
"I'm not 'afflicted'," Mark replied, more sharply than he'd intended. He shook himself. "Look, I get it, okay? It's fine. I'll just go."
"Mark, I'm sorry," John said. He sounded truly sincere.
"It's okay," Mark replied with a shaky laugh. "I only have the one suit, anyway. It's pretty hard getting things altered for ponies, after all."
A few minutes more of small talk passed. Finally, Mark was led back to the elevators. The pretty girl behind the counter was on the phone, but she gave him a stunning smile. Mark smiled back in spite of himself and waved a hoof. Behind him, the elevator bell dinged.
"Well, that sucked," he muttered to himself as he got on. His horn lit, and the ground floor button depressed itself.
Chicago wasn't the city it used to be. There had been a rash of businesses closing and people moving away immediately after the Advent the previous year, which might have had something to do with the large black tower jutting up out of Lake Michigan. The tower had appeared in the middle of the night two days after the Advent, causing an earthquake that had shaken the entire city awake. The resulting flood damage was in the millions.
The tower was an estimated two hundred yards wide at the base and stood nearly a half-mile tall. Perpetual black storm clouds ringed the top third of the structure, constantly flashing and rumbling with lighting and thunder. The Mad Wizard had raised the tower out of the lake, along with the small island it stood on, and declared both the island and the tower as his own domain, independent of any nation on earth and answerable to no other authority.
Those easily frightened had been gone within a few days. Some of those less easily frightened also found it reasonable to get away from anyone with that kind of power, especially if they decided to call themselves a "Mad Wizard". The people that were left were the proud, the stubborn, and those too poor or desperate to move to a safer location.
Still, a brave few businesses were taking advantage of the drastically lowered price of real estate in what was still a key US city, and had opened new offices there, bringing much needed money back to the ailing city coffers. Mark was walking away from one such business, disappointed and frustrated about the failure to secure a position after what had started out as such a great interview. And, to make matters worse, he'd picked up company.
"My little pony, my little pony," an off-key voice sang behind him. Other voices snickered, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. "My little pony, my little pony..."
This had been going on for two blocks now. Apparently, the orc doing the singing didn't know any of the other words to the song. His two friends, another orc and a huge creature that Mark could only assume was some kind of a troll, followed along in the first one's wake.
His heart was beating hard, and the only reason he didn't run was because he wasn't sure he'd be able to get away. He was still relatively new to all this pony business, and his ill-fitted suit restricted his movements. Mark stepped carefully around a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk and quickened his pace a little more.
"Aww, whatsa matter, little pony? Ya lost?" the lead orc said. The group came up closer behind him. Mark was getting ready to run when the troll took two quick, long strides and shoved him sideways into an alleyway. The three thugs crowded in behind him.
Mark looked around the alley in desperation. In addition to some litter and a couple of dumpsters, there was a chain link fence blocking the alley about twenty feet in. There would be no escape that way. An elderly Asian man was standing by the back door to a restaurant smoking a cigarette. He looked up, startled by the commotion. Mark cast him a pleading look, but the man tossed his cigarette on the ground and went back inside, locking the door behind him.
He decided that his only choice to try and talk his way out of this situation.
"Look, guys," he started. "I've just come out of a really bad job interview—"
"What, working at little girls' birthday parties?" the lead orc said. Mark got a better look at him. He was dressed in a black leather jacket that strained across his broad shoulders. A scar ran down his dark green face, directly across his milky white eye, giving him an even more villainous look than his bestial features and spiky black hair managed on their own. His two friends were dressed much the same, in black leathers and denim jeans, with thick black boots that looked disturbingly suited for stomping people's faces into the ground.
"I can do magic," Mark warned desperately. His horn glowed blue, and the three thugs stopped, exchanging a glance. Then they burst out laughing.
"So can I," the shorter of the two orcs said. He held out his hand and it filled with a pale, eldritch glow.
Mark opened his mouth to try again when he heard a loud, hollow thump from behind him. He turned to look and saw a small figure crouched down on top of a nearby dumpster. It stood slowly, resolving into a very thin figure that hopped down to the street and began walking towards them.
"Ain't y'all ashamed of yourselves for pickin' on someone smaller'n you?" a distinctly femine voice sad as the lithe figure approached. Mark made out an idly-waving brown-furred tail, and there were a pair fluffy ears jutting out up from the sides girl's head. Her eyes were wide and blue over her Cheshire grin, and her hair was brown and gathered into twin pigtails. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, revealing a slim and athletic figure.
"This ain't none of your business," the lead orc said. "Get your tail out of here, furfag, or you're next."
The catgirl's grin hardened and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I ain't no furry. I'm a mithra. And I ain't goin' nowhere."
The three looked at each other again, and then came another laugh. This one had a crueler edge to it than the previous one. "Well, I guess we can have some fun with you, too," the smaller orc said.
"Couple things you need to know first," the catgirl said, reaching into a fanny pack and taking out what looked like a paper doll. "The first is, I can do more'n just a light show." She threw the paper doll on the ground where it exploded in a puff of smoke. Mark jumped in surprise when the smoke cleared, revealing three copies of the catgirl standing in the alleyway, all with their arms folded under their small breasts and with identical smug expressions.
"The second thing is, I ain't alone," the catgirl continued, her voice coming from all three copies at the same time. The trio of catgirls then pointed behind the three thugs. There was a fourth figure that stood slightly taller than even the troll. He looked human, except for his long and pointed ears framing his stoic face.
"An elf?" the lead orc said in suprise.
"Elvaan," the newcomer said in a dispassionate voice. He reached out with a huge hand, his lean and muscled arm seeming much longer than it should have been. With a deceptive, casual speed, he grabbed the troll's head and slammed it into the side of the building. The orcs swore and rushed forward as the troll slumped to the ground.
Behind him, the catgirl gave a yowl. Mark turned his head to look her way only to duck as three copies of her jumped over him, her heels barely clearing his horn. All three copies attacked the orc who'd said he could do magic. The light in the orc's hand winked out as he desperately tried to defend himself.
It was over in seconds. One of the catgirl copies had vanished when the smaller orc had smashed a fist into it, and the remaining two were now standing over the groaning thug as he held his bleeding nose. The tall Elvaan was staring down the sidewalk at the rapidly retreating figure of the lead orc, who'd put up a better fight than his friends, but whose blows hadn't seemed to hurt his taller opponent in the slightest.
"Why'd you let him go?" the catgirl asked, angry.
"He's not a threat," the taller fellow said. He looked down at Mark, his eyes a steel-grey under his black hair. "You alright?"
"Uh. Yeah, thanks! I don't know what would have happened if you guys hadn't shown up!"
"You woulda gotten pulped," the catgirl said, back to just one copy. She wiped a forearm across her nose while snuffling. Then she frowned down and the moaning orc who was still bleeding profusely. "Quit whining," she said, giving him a little kick. The orc started dragging himself away.
"Well... uh, I should get going," Mark said, edging his way back to the sidewalk.
"Oh, no," the catgirl said, grinning again as she moved closer. "You're not going anywhere."
"B-b-... but!" Mark protested, backing up. his back end bumped into the Elvaan.
"We just want you to come with us," the tall fellow said as he loomed over Mark. "We'll buy you dinner. And we might have a job for you."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!" the catgirl said cheerfully.
"I really just want to go home," Mark replied. Then, "Wait, did you say 'job'?"
There was a knock on the door. Senator Arthur Davis looked up from his paperwork with a scowl. "I didn't want to be disturbed!" he shouted. Then he stood in alarm when the door opened. He recognized the young man who walked in, of course. Pretty much anyone would, even though he'd changed a bit over the last year. His black hair was longer, now. Shoulder length and tied back in a ponytail. His complexion was cleared up, and he was sporting a short but somewhat wooly-looking black beard.
Besides, not that many people wandered around in midnight blue robes while carrying a six foot tall carved oak staff.
The senator collapsed back into his seat as, for the first time in a very long political career, words failed him. The Mad Wizard looked around his office, managing to look both curious and slightly detached at the same time. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered if the young man was high.
"Nice place," the wizard said as he plonked himself down in one of the guest chairs in the office.
"Thanks," Arthur said stiffly. "Can I help you with something?"
"No, but I can help you with something," the wizard said cheerfully.
"How so?" the senator asked. He'd started pushing the panic button under his desk shortly after he'd sat back down. His security team should be here any second.
"It's about the so-called Magical Action Committee that you're on. You really think you can make plans to 'deal' with me?" The look on his face was both curious and amused. It was a combination the senator found chilling, to say the least.
"You're a powerful new factor in the world," he stated. "We have to come up with some sort of plan, don't we?"
"I'm sure you think so. But really, there aren't any plans you could make. I'm a Mad Wizard. I defy planning." The young man grinned at him and winked.
Stall him, he thought as he held down the button. Still, it shouldn't have taken security anywhere near this long to get here.
"Maybe the plans aren't just about you," he said. "Maybe it's about this new, so-called 'magic', and how we're going to deal with that."
"Don't bother with the alarm," his uninvited guest said casually as he inspected the fingernails on his left hand. "I stopped time outside of your office."
Arthur's skin crawled, not just over the thought that he might be telling the truth, but how nonchalantly he'd stated it. As if it were easy.
"I see," he said, removing his finger from the button. "Well, as I said, we do need to make plans."
The young man threw his head back and howled, "This is boring!", causing the senator to jerk in his seat. "Look. I'm keeping an eye on your stupid little committee. Don't ask me how, okay? I'd lie just to be funny. And, any plans you come up with, I'll counter. I'm not an idiot. So, it's a pointless waste of your time, and mine. Just leave me be, and hope I do the same for you."
"I see," Arthur said. He considered for a few seconds. "Well—"
"Right now you're thinking that, if I'm trying to stop you, there may be some sort of threat that you could pose to me. You're thinking that you're on the right track, somehow."
A shiver went down Arthur's spine. He had been thinking that.
"The answer is 'no', by the way. You're not a threat to me. Not one little bit." The Mad Wizard gripped his staff and leaned forward, meeting Arthur's eyes directly for the first time. "But you may become an irritant. Like a fly. And I would swat you." He leaned back in the chair again with a smug grin. "I'd really prefer just to be left alone."
Arthur tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. He took a sip of the tea that his admin had made up for him and tried again. "And, do you give your word that you'll leave us alone if we do?"
"Oh, no." He looked shocked, waving his hands as he continued, "No, no, no, no! Of course not! I'm still going to do whatever I want to do. But, and this is important, I won't do it with malice if I'm not bothered." He gave a triumphant grin. Arthur felt his stomach clench up and his heartburn crank up a few thousand degrees. "Trust me. You having to deal with a Mad Wizard is bad enough. An Angry Wizard would be a bad deal all around."
It was a few seconds before Arthur could find his voice again. "Understood," he said, finally.
"Spiffy!" The Mad Wizard jumped up out of the chair and grinned at him. "That's all I wanted to hear. Ciao!"
The Mad Wizard vanished. There was no smoke, no displays of lights, nothing. Just a space that was occupied by a young man in blue robes one moment, then completely empty the next. It was if he was never there.
Regardless of what the wizard had said, it was obvious that plans would have to be made. The only thing that his visit had changed was the nature of those plans. Senator Arthur Davis hit the intercom on his desk.
"Yes, sir?" his assistant Tami's voice said over the intercom.
"Start calling the members of the Action Committee," he said. "Emergency meeting. We'll meet... Hmm. Have one of the pages book a local hotel room at random, from another building. We'll meet there. No mention of the time or location here in the office, we'll meet in the park across the street first before we head over there. Call enough cabs to transport us all there."
Maybe the wizard was using magic to spy on the Committee. Maybe it was something simpler, like bugs. It paid to at least try to be cautious.
Tami didn't seem at all fazed by the odd request. "Yes, sir," she said.
The senator stared off into the middle distance for a while. Then, just out of idle curiosity, he pushed the panic button under his desk once again.
It took the security team less than fifteen seconds to arrive.
The place was called Gandolfo's, and Mark was happily eating a slice of one of the best pizzas he'd ever tried. Neapolitan style, loaded with nearly everything but mushrooms, which the catgirl, Lizzie, had stated that she would refuse to eat. The lanky Elvaan, who went by the name Tommy, had already eaten nearly half of the thing by himself already and showed no signs of slowing down.
Mark snagged a second slice via telekinesis, sliding it onto his plate next to his half-finished slice. Tommy looked at it mournfully, and Lizzie giggled.
"I thought ponies couldn't eat meat?" she asked him, pointing at his slice-and-a-half.
Mark swallowed his current mouthfull of pizza and washed it down with some cherry Coke. "I don't know about that. I can eat it. Makes me a little gassy, though. Be glad you're not riding the train home with me."
He snickered and she chuckled. Tommy ate another slice of pizza.
"Look," Mark said eventually. Lizzie wiped a string of cheese off of her chin and looked up at him with her too-wide eyes, smiling slightly. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help. I was in big trouble, I don't deny it. But I either need to hear about this job, or I need to head home."
The two looked at each other, then back at him.
"'Kay," Lizzie said. "It's like this. You know the Mad Wizard, right?"
Mark snorted. "No. Who's that?" She punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"Smart ass. Anyway, he ain't the only wizard out there. Lots of folks got magic skills."
"Yeah, but none of them can do much with them," Mark said. "How'd you do that thing with the copies, anyway?"
"It's called 'Utsusemi Ichi'," Lizzie said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Our wizard taught me that, and a couple of other things. Maybe one day I can manage the next level of it. Anyway, he can teach you spells, too."
"Maybe I don't want that," Mark said. Which was a lie, because he really, really did. "What do you mean your wizard?"
"Classic-looking wizard guy," Tommy said. "Looked like Gandalf. He approached us a couple weeks back, asked us to come to Chicago."
"Okay?" Mark said, wondering where this was leading.
"He told us we needed to build a team," Lizzie said. "Described each of the members we'd need." She gestured at him with a gnawed-on pizza crust. "You fit the description of one of 'em."
"You don't say?" Mark said as he pushed aside the rind of crust from his first pizza slice..
"Hey, that's wasteful!" Tommy protested.
"You can eat it if you want," Mark replied shortly. "So, how was I described?"
"As 'a unicorn in great need of help'." Lizzie said, grinning. "You seemed to fit the bill, yeah?"
"That's pretty vague," Mark groused.
"Eh, it's close enough. We've been lookin' for days. We weren't about to pass you by." Lizzie huffed. "Anyway, we got two more to recruit. A horned healer an' a shadow in black."
"Those are the descriptions?" Mark asked. He scoffed when she nodded. "Fine, fine. A wonderful band of heroes. So, what's the job? What are we all getting together for?"
"It ain't obvious?" Lizzie asked. Mark shook his head. She leaned towards him over the table, beckoning with a finger. With a sigh, he set his hooves on the table and leaned closer. She then whispered in his ear, "We're gonna kill the Mad Wizard."
Mark's blood ran cold. The restaurant seemed to dim slightly, and his legs felt unsteady. His jaw flopped open uselessly as he made strangled noises in the back of his throat.
"What?!!" he was finally able to shriek. All of the other patrons looked around back at their table, frowning and muttering.
Into the near-silence that followed, Tommy said, "Hey, you gonna finish that slice, or what?"
