Slaughter Swamp, Gotham City, July 9th, 1987
"Seriously? You give me the knowledge about casting a damn water boiling spell, but not ANY fireball spells?! That's like, Magic 101!" I yell at no one in particular, a few birds scattering out of a nearby tree at the sudden noise. My current frustation stems from the fact that after much testing, going over my notes, and just trying to think really hard, I'm forced to conclude the unfortunate truth - whatever put me on on this Earth, and stuffed all the magic knowledge in my head, didn't see fit to give me any fireball spells.
Oh, there's alternatives certainly, one of which I'm currently trying out, but no specific fireball magic, which seems like such an obvious missing piece that I can't help but think it was deliberate. My Ignition spell does technically set my target on fire, but it's really more pyrokinesis, as the fire appears directly on target, and is hard to use precisely. Then there's my next attempt...
"Dragon's Breath!"
No sooner have I spoken the words than a stream of flames shoot from my open mouth and engulfs the little pile of twigs and grass I've stacked inside a circle of stones in the middle of the marshland to keep it from spreading, quickly reducing it to cinders. The flames come to a stop, quickly followed by the biggest drawback to this particular spell...
"BLAGH! UGH!!" I smack my lips together, trying to clear my mouth from the awful taste of sulfur that follows the fire, before grabbing the bottle of water by my feet and taking a swig, sloshing it around inside my mouth before spitting it out. "Bleh, that is just... ugh! That's going to take some getting used to. Still, it's a ranged attack, so, that's progress, I guess..."
Putting the bottle back down, I pull my notebook from my back pocket, and jot down a few notes about my progress, such as it is. Since the whole Doctor Death fiasco I've been going over how I've been using my magic, and how I can do better. One of my biggest screwups was that I've simply been going for hand-to-hand fighting every time I've had to get physical, and the only reason it took this long to run into trouble is because everyone I've faced so far were just random street trash. My protection spells were the only reason that monster freak Death sent after me didn't crush me, and I shouldn't have gotten close to him in the first place. If I'd been using my magic more intelligently, maybe Doctor Death wouldn't have gotten away. So, it's back to basics, and first up is ranged spells. There's just one problem...
I'm starting to realise I'm really not used to fighting at a range at all.
I wasn't exactly good at fighting hand-to-hand in my old life either, but at least it was easy to grasp, most of it is just instinct, and Ted's training has really helped too. But ranged attacks, they require a bit of a different approach, and different thinking, none of which I've ever had to learn. Maybe if I had any kind of experience with guns in the past, but I don't. So I'm pretty much starting from square one here. Maybe I should try practicing with guns, at a firing range or something? Ohh, or maybe even an enchanted gun, like that one rifle from the Hitman series? The one that could kill demons? Eh, that's for another day. For now, time the next spell...
"Permafrost!"
The smouldering remains of my target is extinguished as a spiderweb of ice creeps across the ground, emmenating from the pale blue wind streaming from my open mouth, frozen water droplets forming in the air as the magic chill meets the balmy summer air of the swamp. The spell ends, and a cool, refreshing feeling replaces the lingering taste of sulfur.
"Mmm, minty!"
.......
"You know, Solomon, we're actually not that different, you and I..."
Solomon Grundy looks up briefly from the Big Belly Burger meal he's currently tearing through, wrappers and all, at the mention of his name, predictably not responding before resuming eating. As I'd already expected, my little one-man magic show ended up drawing the attention of Slaughter Swamp's de-facto landlord, and in the spirit of maintaining peaceful relations, I'd brought along a bag full of fast food burgers as a tribute. Grundy had simply sat down a bit further away from me and dug into his food, occasionally looking up whenever I produced an especially glowy bit of spellwork.
"Figuratively speaking, I mean. Physically, there's not a lot of common ground. But we both got shoved into the world of magic through no real choice of our own. Me, by whatever interdimensional douchebag put me here, and you by getting your head bashed in for the coins in your pocket and then dumped in a supernatural hot spot. We're both a victim or circumstance, or fate, or whatever you want to call it." I look back to where Grundy stuffs an entire burger into his mouth, still in it's paper box, and swallows it whole. "Obviously, some of us came out a little bit more ahead than others. You do realise those wrappers come off, right? It's not like, part of the dining experience."
"Born on a Monday..." Grundy responds, swallowing heavily before tearing open the bag, letting the last few burgers fall in his lap.
I shrug "Hey, you do you, man. I once knew a guy who liked to pick his burgers apart and eat each segment by itself. Rather defeats the point of burgers, if you ask me. Anyway, back to this whole magic business, it's kind of crazy just how arbitrary it all is. The standard approach is to study for years, and even then, you're lucky to end up with more power than what any second-rate stage show magician can replicate with a deck of cards and a bored audience of drunken casino patrons. But then you get people like me, or you, or the Zataras, who basically just stumble ass-backwards into frankly ludicrous levels of magic. I mean, dude, you got RESURRECTIVE IMMORTALITY, you know how many people would sell their souls for something like that?"
"Christened on Tuesday..."
"Okay, yeah, granted, it's not an ideal situation either, I get that, just saying, you got something through random chance that people have searched for basically all of human history, I'd be willing to bet there's quite a few death-phobics out there who consider becoming a swamp zombie named after a nursery rhyme to be a fair tradeoff for not dying permanently. And look at me, I can literally turn lead to gold, and I've never even picked up a book on magic in my life! Hell, where I came from, I'm pretty certain magic isn't even real! And the Zataras, they basically rewrite reality by talking backwards! That is some OP bullshit, don't you think?"
"Married on Wednesday..."
"Exactly! And I know magic is supposed to have a cost to it, but as far as I can tell, the only real drawback I have to deal with is not being able to use my own name. Which is another weird rule, but apparently that's a big one, because it set off some pretty big warning flares in my head when I tried to introduce myself the first time." I look around the treeline for a good target, and spot a sickly-looking tree standing by the marsh, the decaying trunk looking like it's about to collapse into the muddy waters at any moment. "Anyway, time for my next test. Let me introduce you to the Vorpal Sword!"
I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the switchblade I took from one of the punks that tried to rob me a few weeks back. It looks much the same as when I first picked it up from it's former owner, with the exception of a small rune that's been carved into the top of the hilt, right by the switch that extends the blade, and filled in with gold dust. I flick the switch, and the blade pops out of the hilt. Knives are another thing I'm not really used to, if I remember correctly switchblades were even illegal back home, but it's small and light enough that it shouldn't be too much of a problem. And skill with using it isn't really an issue, considering the effect the rune gives to it.
I make a quick slashing motion in a diagonal, and feel the blade hum as the enchantment takes effect. A wave of golden light extends from the blade as it cuts through the air, and shoots outwards in a wave, right into the dying tree, cutting through the rotting wood like a hot knife through butter! Neatly severed, the top half falls into the swamp water with a splash, quickly submerging beneath the filthy surface. I look down on the knife in my hand, watching as the glow from the rune fades.
"Alright, you can cut through rotting wood, that's a start. Let's move on to stone, shall we?"
.....
GothCorp Building, Medical Research Division, At The Same Time...
Dr. Victor Fries didn't much care for the cold.
It was a a bit of an irony, he supposed, considering that his life's work revolved around the science of cryogenics, but all the same, he didn't much enjoy the biting, numbing feeling of frozen winter air against his skin. He much prefered the brilliance of the summer sun, even now shining down on Gotham City outside the building that housed his laboratory. Not that Fries could tell, there were no windows this far down into the GothCorp facility, and the constant hum of the air conditioner made sure that no warmth could creep in. An unfortunate reality, his research required very controlled temperatures, certainly not something one could leave up to the fickle chaos of nature. The machines around him ensured that his working environment was kept just a bit above freezing. It was fascinating work, but the chill creeping along his skin did wear on him by the end of the day.
A bit of time out in the sun after work would fix that. Perhaps the beach? Victor was certain Nora would enjoy that. His beloved wife had been a bit under the weather lately, probably just a summer cold, some rest and relaxation would be good for both of them. With a smile at the thought of Nora, Victor focused back on the task at hand, staring down at the assembled pile of electronics on the desk in front of him. To the untrained eye, it really wouldn't look like anything, just a random mishmash of parts, but to Victor Fries, they were the culmination of his entire life's work. It was the very project that had gotten him hired by GothCorp in the first place, the CEO Ferris Boyle having decided to take a chance on funding what most people would think only existed in science-fiction.
A working freeze ray! A device that could actually project a freezing effect at a specific target. It would be a revolutionary technology, useful for everything from fire prevention to cryogenics to medical care, and Victor was almost ready to finish his prototype! Just a few more tweaks to the design and the power source, and then he'd-
His train of thought fizzled out as his eye caught something very strange. Up above his desk, near the ceiling, there was something sticking out of the vent for the air conditioner, fluttering slightly in the breeze. Almost as if the object had noticed his attention had now been drawn to it, it dislodged itself from the machine and fluttered out like a dead leaf, before drifting right on top of his desk, coming to rest against the half-finished freeze ray.
It was a card, one Victor vaguely remembered having seen before somewhere. A faint memory of flipping through a book on symbolism and mythology during his college years flickered in the back of his mind. Tarot, that was it! It was a tarot card! But what on Earth was it doing in his lab? Victor picked it up, studying it closely.
The image showed two naked humans, one man, one woman, standing in front of two trees, one of which held a snake. Religion had never been something that Victor had ever bothered with, but even he recognised the depiction of Adam and Eve. Behind the pair, an angel with flaming hair and spread wings hovered over a cloud, with a large sun above it. Beneath the image, there were two words.
THE LOVERS
Victor was just about to put the card aside, ready to dismiss it as some sort of bizarre prank, when something made him turn it over to the blank side. Except it wasn't blank. On the other side of the card, in bright, gold, letters, someone had written a message.
"Find The Magician!"
"What on Earth...?" Victor muttered to himself, but the mystery in his hand had to wait, as the phone on his desk suddenly rang out with a shrill signal. Card forgotten for the moment, Victor slipped it into the inside pocket of his labcoat with one hand, as he picked up the reciever with the other.
"Victor Fries here, how may I help you?"
"Victor?" A familiar voice said on the other end "Victor, it's me, Nora."
The surprise joy of his wife calling him quickly faded as Victor noticed something off about her, a tone in her voice he didn't like. Something wasn't right. "Nora? Is everything alright?"
He heard a raspy sigh before Nora answered "Victor, I've... I've been to the doctor. It's bad..."
And Dr. Victor Fries felt his world crumble