2013.07.14 - Bell, Book and Kitty

Late afternoon, almost evenning in Central Park. It isn't a good idea to walk through it at night. You never knew if what was hiding behind a tree was a cat, a thug, a mugger, a vampire, a supervillain out for a victim, or a misplaced ninja turtle. 
Some people never learn. And there are some denizens of the big apple who would walk over hot coals just to spite all that nonsense about 'danger' and 'caution'. Because there's nothing tougher than a 'Yorker who wants to do something.
Like the jogger currently making fast tracks through the trails in the fading light. She's listening to her iPod- to a high-energy remix that lends her the energy she needs to beat her personal time.
Like the hooded figures that are running through the foliage out of her sight, moving in an intercept path that will soon end up entangling her into a five-man ambush. 
Like the purple-furred feline who was resting on one of the high branches, and who soon will notice there is something strange afoot.
Barbara Gordon pages: It could. But, we can figure it out. I'm not so much comfortable with using Vorp as bait as I am discovering he's a target and working to use that to an advantage.
Like possibly even a teenaged Superhero on patrol. 
For Wiccan, patrol does not tend to look like it does with a number of heroes. Instead of running over roof tops or flying along roads keeping an eagle eye out for mercurial mischief or masterful malicious intent he is instead standing about 100 feet above the center of central park surrounded by a light bluish glow and images of events going on all over the area as if projected on invisible screens that curve around him. 
As the five hooded figures start to move in on the jogger like a pack of predatory animals closing in for the kill the edges of one of the images start to flash red and it moves front and center in front of Wiccan's face. As he waves a hand and makes the spell he was using to keep an eye on things fades the last bit of the Aerosmith song he was listening to can be heard on the wind as he starts to fly on a path to meet up with the would be attackers and the jogger. 
"She was a real top manner 
Lies and no conniver 
Heart pumpin' floozy 
Late night driver 
Her second hand clothes 
Smiling like a cheshire cat"
Synchronicity or advanced planning? Who knows, but when the five finally intercept the woman, they do so surrounding her in a small circular clearance in the path which allows them to almost form a perfect five-man pentagram. They move out of the bushes and onto the paths ahead, behind and to the sides of her.
Karla Steinberg was the wrong person to target. Far from a damsel in distress, the young woman had the kind of will and temper that would have probably made her a superhero-- if she hadn't decided to go for a major in Education. Whenever she subbed at one of the local highschools, the students called her 'Attila The Sub'. 
"What the eff is this?" she says, plugging her headphones out of her ears and looking at the men, wrinkling her sweaty brow.
One of the men steps forward, brandishing a ceremonial blade that glistens in the dying light. He says nothing. His robes are adorned with mystical symbols.
"Oh, you've GOT to be KIDDIN' me!" Karla says. The man advances on her-- and is the first to be taken by surprise by her kickboxing training. Because you don't sub at some of the most dangerous highschools without learning how to defend yourself. The first blow catches him in the groin, and before the knife clatters to the ground and a soprano-high queek comes out of the robed man's throat, another fleeting foot of fury impacts the man's throat, sending him flat against the ground and gasping for air. 
The other men start circling her-- the Pentagram broken, but now she still has to deal with four against one. And now they know she's not going to simply give in. It doesn't take very long because, even though she kicks hard, it is still four against one. One of the finally manages to grab her from behind, two of them latch onto her arms and legs, and a third one goes over to get their useless brother-in-arcane up on his feet.
"I'll kill you! I swear to you!, you're going to d--" and then she is gagged.
Vorpal snarls from up on the branch, moving across trees in the darkness to try and find the best angle from which to attack.
Wiccan winces as he gets close just in time to spot the kick. He does not envy that guy, not in the least, especially if he forgot rule number 5. Always wear a cup. 
As the robed guys get a hold of the woman there is a sudden crack of thunder that rolls across the park before he drops out of the sky with his staff in his right hand. Eyes glowing and electricity crackling along his staff from his hand Wiccan makes sure he gives an impressive entrance before he speaks because it tends to help make people a little more likely to take him seriously. "Put the athame's down, and let the woman go." Electricity crackles around his eyes and it thunders again. "Now."
The athame goes up to the woman's throat, held tight against the skin so that it almost pierces it. Almost. This is one put-together cultist. Better than the man moaning on the ground. Although the thunder scares his confederates, he doesn't flinch, but looks at Wiccan with a concentrated hatred. "I wouldn't try anything. Not with her neck so.. exposed."
Vorpal is startled by the thunder. He looks over and sees a... well, a wizard. Of sorts. The cat frowns and becomes invisible, Sidestepping himself onto the soft grass, a bit away from the cultist to see what the wizard will do.
Wiccan's eyes glow again, but he does not do anything. Not yet, not with the woman in quite as much danger as she is in. After having seen some of the less than pleasant stuff he has in recent months seeing a woman get her throat slit is not on his list. 
"You realize taking a hostage when faced with a Superhero is almost universal a stupid idea, right? I mean it is right up there with throwing the gun at Superman once you run out of bullets. Sure, it keeps me here and not doing anything as long as she is not hurt. Which, by the way Ma'am, don't worry I will make sure you are not injured any. But, as I was saying, if anything happens to her the lot of you will get taken down hard and fast and then go to jail a whole lot longer." He keeps his eyes on all of the robed figures as well as he can but keeps most of his attention on the one that actually knows what he is doing.
"You have once chance though, give up now and ask forgiveness and there is a chance the woman won't press charges on assault."
Okay, the sparkly kid was on his side. This means good things, Vorpal thinks.
While everybody is busy with the words, and Wiccan with the very real threats, the invisible cat runs over and, by virtue of being invisible, gets close enough to grab at the knife- becoming visible in the process-- with his bare hands, wresting it away from the surprised cultist and cutting his palms rather severely. You do what you must when lives are at stake. Immediately, the cultists let go of the woman and the three try to gang up on the cat, sensing something has gone horribly wrong. The knife-less cultist turns towards Wiccan and raises a hand, an eldritch glow beginning to form against the air. "Damn you!" he says, as there is palpable tension in the air as a spell builds.
As the magic in the air starts to build up Wiccan moves fast, "Nomagicforyou, Nomagicforyou, Nomagicforyou!" He chants forming an image in his mind of a sphere around the robed guy that will repel magic energy. He can neither confirm nor deny that he has been reading a lot of DND books recently, and possibly gotten the idea to try an anti-magic shell on someone. 
As Wiccan casts his spell the runes carved into his staff glow with the same bluish white light as his magic, a fact that the cultists that had the knife is likely to get a good close up view of as the teenaged mage swings to try and smack him upside the head. He is going to wait till the competent cultist is dealt with before he can focus on the purple guy that choose the perfect moment to step in.
"Yeah! You get these ----" Karla says, adding some colorful words that she probably picked up from a few of her students. She gives the competent cultist a swift kick to the daddybags at the same time that Wiccan whacks him over the head. Men were not meant to suffer such pain, and the man crumples to the ground with a quiet whimper, and probably a wibble, too.
Vorpal, on the other hand, was having it hard. Because he didn't have an other hand-- or rather, a very wounded hand, and a functional one. He was swinging a purple glowing baseball bat at the cultists- but they seemed to be equipped with something that made his constructs disintegrate the moment he hit them. "What in blazes?---" he says, oobviously too surprised. But if Wiccan pays attention, he may notice that there is a faint stench of 5th dimensional magic imbued on the cultist's robes... the same kind of chaotic magic that permeates the cat. He snarls and instead decides to rely on his training, delivering a devastating Tiger fist at the nearest cultist, sending him flying backwards.
But the other cultist nearest to him grabs the bleeding hand and squeezes it tightly, causing the cat to lose his focus and cry out in pain.
Wiccan does not wince when the competent cultist goes down, that guy deserves it. As the cat crys out in pain he spins quickly and only takes a second to judge the situation. 
The air around him changes a little, there is a raise in static electricity and the scent of ozone fills the area as Wiccan points his staff in the direction of the robed figures that are still up and not holding onto Vorpal. There is another crack of thunder and then a flash of light as lightning strikes down from the sky to hit Wiccan, and then channel through him and the staff staight for the cultists. 
For just an instant Wiccan's eyes glow a reddish color as he throws out his free hand in the direction of the robed figure squeezing Vorpal's hand. "Let Go of Him!" As he says the words tinged with magic a black ball of energy flys out of his hand with the force of of a decent punch aimed for the man.
The ball impacts against the cultist, and lets the cat go. Vorpal grabs at his hand, blood staining his fur, and he delivers a fulminating knee blow at the man's solar plexus, knocking him out right. 
The other two cultists out cold on the floor, twitching a little from the electricity, Karla looks at the two of them.
"... Okay, this is too weird... even for me...." she says, and starts running. The wind does carry a faint 'Thank you!' as she runs... but obviously more interested in getting to safety.
The cut is deep, and a lot of blood is running from it. Vorpal, of course, is familiar to Billy, having seen him before when Amanda made some time to speak to him- but the cat does not recognize him because of Wiccan's disguise magic. 
"C-come to think of i-it... grabbing that knife wasn't as good an idea as..."
A crackle of thunder, and Vorpal is blasted off his feet and flung against one of the trees.
The man Karla had knees in the jellies, the first one... he managed to complete the spell his more capable confederate had failed to do. During the fight, he had had a chance to recover without being seen. Now he turned another blast towards Wiccan, screaming "Fools! You'll be the sacrifice!"
Wiccan blinks and looks at his hand a second. "Lady, this is weird for ma and I do this for a living...kind of." HE says mostly to himself as Karla has decided to run far away very fast. As the lightning blasts Vorpal Wiccan's focus is brought back to the fight he had thought finished. As the second lightning bolt is flung at him Wiccan reaches for some fast magic, "LightningRod!" The spell makes his staff just that, a lightning rod attracting electricity and harmlessly grounding it out. "Really? My best friend is Thor's son and you're going to threaten me? With Lightning? My own favorite element?" Electricity arcs along the staff again as Wiccan points it at the last cultist and blasts him with lightning of his own. If he hits and is sure that everyone one is down at alst Wiccan will quickly go over to Vorpal and start checking for pulse and seeing how really badly hurt and in what ways he is injured.
Groan. "Mm...wh... what happened?" the cat opens his eyes slowly. He has a pulse, strong, but he's shaken and somewhat out of it from that blast. Blood had dripped all over, describing his trail from when the lightning hit him and to his landing spot. "...P-Patrick?"
Wiccan pauses a second at being called a name not his own. At least it was not Thomas, that would have lead to interesting questions. "Sorrry, not Patrick but I am here to help. Just hold on a second... Ieantyouhealed, Iwantyouhealed, Iwantyouhealed!" He gets the cat's paw, er hand, in his hand as he chants so he can focus most of the healing on that first, before the magic washes over the rest of Vorpal's body.
Vorpal blinks, as he feels the magic coursing over him. Something interesting happens as he is exposed to the reality-warping magic-- purple sparks emit from Vorpal's body... but the magic works, and he is healed. Finally, the sparks subside.
"T... thank you. You're the lightning lad who helped me..." he is becoming more lucid "... did we win?"
Wiccan blinks and takes a step back as Vorpal starts to sparkle. That, is interesting. "I..ok never had that happen before." He shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm Wiccan and we won. I..." He looks over at the slithgly smoking and twitching last cultist. "I think I may have gone a touch overboard on the last one though, but he will be ok...eventually. Thanks for the help, I was getting a little worried I might have to try a spell on the athame and given how my powers work might have tipped the guy off too soon if I did."
Vorpal nods, slowly getting to his feet. "I didn't see that coming... I thought they were just your garden variety culti----" he trails off, though, when he gets a good look at one of the robes, and freezes.
Wiccan nods and shrugs a little. "Most of the cultists I have delt with tend to go on about fire and circles and use words with no vowls that I swear you have to dislocate your tongue and be half drowning to pronounce. The magic is a bit odd though, the ones I have fought before that can do any are usually better at it." Wiccan is mostly babbling to himself, but is at least doing it in Vorpal's direction. "Have you fought many...hey, hey are you alright? Is something wrong cause the spell should ahve healed anything physical but the sparks I have no idea what that could have been about..."
"Those robes... I've seen them before." The cat's voice is raw with emotion when he sees the runes. ".... the people who killed me were wearing them..."
Wiccan nods as he hears the first part, and more importantly the raw emotion in it. "Don't worry man they can't...wait did you say kill you?" He is a bit curious because he has only met a few people that have been dead before and most of them were more Rawr eat your brains than the were helpful. "Ok, really need to call the cops on this one. I...I don't know if your registered or anything or want to stay for that bit but I am gonna call the police now to make sure they know aobut everything."
"I am registered...Keith O'Neil" he says, visibly shaken. He looks at Wiccan, and frowns. It should be easy to distinguish his features but... try as he does, he can't seem to comitt them to memory, as he does with most people he meets. "I... who are you?"
Wiccan nods and puts a hand on Keith's shoulder since he is so viably shaken. "I told you, Wiccan. I am one of the Young Allies." He says with a friendly smile and then starts digging his phone out of a pocket. After he gets it out he stops and the looks at Keith, head canting to the side. "Wait, You can tell can't you? I mean the spell, the one that protects my identity. Wow, I...I have only met a few people that could do that...and most of them were either Gods or the Sorcerer Supreme."
The cat frowns "... maybe when you cast that spell on me... I'm..I'm.... I'm magic. ... I'm chaos. I mean, I'm made up of chaos magic...." which would explain why he seemed to shaken after the spell. Even after noticing the robes. He takes a deep breath, trying to get himself together "...I think that sort of magic plays havoc with me... I'm sorry."
 
Wiccan nods and winces a little. "I'm sorry then if my spell did anything...weird or made you feel odd. I'm magic too, I mean I am a mutant tested have the X-Gene and everything but my power is Chaos Magic." He trys a friendly smile while blushing a little at how that came out. "Sorry, learning my powers is a bit trail and error since it is half learning natural mutant power half learning magic and half hoping to hell things work the same way twice because half the time they don't." Which all adds up to one and a half, or possibly two depending on how one looks at it.
"I'm... a Cheshire cat. Or that's what I'm now. I died, as I told you... I was normal. I came back as this..." he reaches into his pocket and takes out a purple card. "... my boyfriend is going to be furious with me... I'm not supposed to be out heroing..."
Wiccan nods and grins a little. "Don't worry, we are all mad here." He offers enteirly unable to stop himself. When offered the card he takes it and looks at it a second and then, "IwishIhadcards, IwishIhadcards!" After a second there is a little change in things and suddenly Wiccan has a black and red buisness card with his hero name and a Email adress and a odd looking phone number. "Here, in case you need any help from me or wnat to contact me for any reason. I...am not exactly registered but have a pretty good reputation with the police since I always clean up after myself in the bigger fights. Don't worry too much about your boyfriend, of he is anything like mine he will jsut be glad your ok....and if what it felt like when I cast the spell was right and things did not go wrong because of your nature then you should be in better shape than when the fight started."
The cat gives him a grin "IwishIhadaMillionDollars!", getting his breath back and giving Wiccan a wink. Handing him his card and taking his "...I'm Keith O'Neil, as I said, registered... but I go by Vorpal. No secret identity. Can't have it, with the way I look... Wiccan, you have an awesome power. Certainly better than my bag of tricks... If I could only repay you for the he...."
An idea.
"Say... do you know Zatanna?"
Wiccan grins at the joke from the cat and gives a little laugh. "I don't know being invisible with ease would be great, and having claws and a great look would be awesome. Even if color coordinating might be a bit hard. If I looked like you I bet I would not have gotten beaten up as often." The last is said a little quietly before the teen shakes his head. "And besides, I am betting you don't summon random things in your sleep and have never blown out all the circuit breakers in a block when your boyfriend kissed you." After a second he grins and nods at the Cat. "Yeah, I have met her but have not had more than a couple of small meetings. Same thing with most of the magic community, except for...well..a friend of mine...sort of. But she is a really different case."
"Well... I happened to meet the lovely lady today at Oblivion ... and... " he takes something out of his uniform. Two ticket stubs. "I was thinking of taking my boyfriend to this... but I'm planning something even more special. These are from Zatanna herself for me and a friend, and I'd like for you to take your boyfriend. My treat." He smiles, extending the tickets. They are prime seats for Zatanna's next show.
Wiccan blinks, and then blinks again. "I...that is ...I don't know if I can take those. I mean that would be absolutly awsome and my boyfriend would flip. But she gave them to you and all. All I ahe done is heal you up a bit after you got injured backing me up while I tried to fight some cultists."
"Wiccan, do you know what comes from arguing with cats?" Vorpal says with a smirk.
Wiccan grins and holds up a finger. "Do not meddle in the affaird of Wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger." It is one of Wiccan's favorite quotes out of one of hs favorite books. Given the perfect opening he had to use it. That said he waits a pause and then takes the tickets being offered. "That said, let it never be said that I am ungreatful. If anyone asks just say you offered them three times. Ok, no one will probably get it except for Axiom and his parents but it will make you sound inscrutable and that is as much a cat thing as it is a Wizard one right?"
"... I think we'll get along just fine, Wiccan. If I can ever remember what you look like." The cat smirks and frowns, his ears twitching as he hears things in the distance. "Hmm... sounds like the boys in blue are near the entrance to the park... You might want to be running along, since you're not registered. Unless you want me to mention you? You're the one who blasted them all, after all. I wasn't terribly effective."
Wiccan grins and nods. "I cn trust you right?" He asks waiting for a response before he does anything. Once he gets a positive one Wiccan will lean up and whisper in the cat's ear, "My real name is William Kaplan, but call me Billy." He does not want anyone to overhear his real name, and the instant he revelas his real name after leaning back his face becomes clear as it is to everyone else. "Like I said, I have a good reputation witht he police and never have a problem with them when I stay to give a statment of fact. I blame it on the fact that anytime the Young Allies end up with major property damage I put everything back the way it was before hand...or some times better." He is not going to mention the patch of pink grass at NYU that a few of the biology professors are fighting each other to study that he left behind after fixing a crater made by a giant with and exposed brain fought his team there. Even if nearly everyone thinks it is awesome.
The cat's eyes go wide. "Wait a minute..." he tilts Billy's chin up a little with a finger. "....I've seen you before, haven't I?" 
Great memory for faces, he has. Too bad he has an awful one for places. The kid looks familiar, but he couldn't say where he had seen him from. Then the other half dawns on him "... you didn't have to reveal your secret identity to me," he says quietly. "What if I were a brain-eating cat from another planet or something of the like?"
Wiccan nods. "We met once before, when Zatana found you sitting on topof a lamp post near where you and a few others fought Doctor Octopus, The Rhino, Sandman and Electro." He is a fan boy, he can't help but follow every single news story about Superheroes. Every single one. "Well obviously if you where then I would have had to summon the guys that used to beat me up for being the only out student in my Highschool. Being totally immune to the brain eating means they would easily be a match for you." He grins and waits for the cat to laugh if he does at all thanks to the joke. "Also, since were you know talking and stuff. Any chance I can get an autograph? I mean you took on the Joker, twice, and are still up for saving joggers from crazy guys in robes. Only person I have ever heard of dong that is The Batman....and most people don't really even believe in him."
The cat blinks "...actually that was Daytripper not Zata---what?"
<Dude, he just asked you for an autograph>
<WHY?>
<Well, I am rocking the uniform>
<Yeah, and nothing else. You got blasted out of your ass just now, the Joker got away, and..>
Something strange appeared during his inner monologue;--- two little versions of himself, one dressed in a red variant of his hero uniform, and another one in white, appearead on each shoulder and seemed to whisper to him. They vanish, though, and he doesn't acknowledge they were ever there. 
"... well, B--Wiccan" He says, not saying his real name "... the Batman actually puts the Joker away, that's the difference... I'm a nobody. You sure you wouldn't like Superman's autograph? I could probably get it for you..."
Wiccan blinks at the little angel and demon Vorpals. It is very wrong, and a part of him wants to make them come back so he can squeel and pet and tickle them because they had to be the cutest things he has seen in days. "One, I asked you for yours and that's the one I want. Two, I already have his. Three, you did put the Joker away the first time. And four, what ever the little kitten in the devil suit said you should ignore outright cause the truth is your a huge hero completely awesome."
Vorpal blinks "...angel, devil... what?" He looks totally lost at this, but looks uncomfortable when Billy says all that. "Okay... first rule of Hero Club-- no adulation. You and I are equals, okay? I'll give you an autograph, but only because I really like you and I think you're cool... but that sort of stuff makes me uncomfortable. I'm still a greenhorn, and I haven't proven myself. Nooww.... where's some pen and paper?"
Wiccan grins and nods. "Yeah, I know, I know. Everyone says that but I can't help it. Been a giant geek and hero fanboy since I could say Captain America." His eyes glow a second and then a pen and a small book with a bunch of superhero names already in it appear in his hands. "Actually it was more Capmurica the way Dad tells the story but not really important right?"
Keith laughs, signing the page with his real name and moniker, with a friendly note as well. "Well.. we're not very different in that. I grew up with newspaper clippings all over my room..." his ears twitch. The cops are now halfway through the park. Such a large expanse. "... I never thought I'd be doing this, really. Long origin short, I was a kid in the bronx. Got my neck sliced open by cultists and died, next thing I know BAM, Cheshire cat." He leaves the heroics out of the origin story, for fear that Billy will get excited about them. "... there's only two things a guy can do when he looks like me, can become invisible, make illusions, teleport and create constructs, right? Supervillainy or vigilantism. And I don't have the fashion sense for the first one." He grins and hands the book back.
Wiccan nods and grins. "Did...did you have the one about the first guy to call himself Patriot speaking out at the funeral for a friend that was kicked out of the Navy for being gay?" He has to ask because even before he had powers Billy had found a copy of that story and found it close to his heart even in his worst moments. "That....sucks really it does. No one should ahve to go through that. Not that my oragin is much better. Out cause of a prank freshman year, regularly used as a punchinb bag, one day I wished I could be like Thor when I saw the bullies beating on someone else and...boom lighting. Although, there is a third option but...better not to mention it since I am under age and not supposed to know anything about that." He blushes cause, well, there for a second he almost forgot that Vorpal is obviously an adult since he was talking to him more like an equal than as someone speaking with a teen.
Vorpal seems to do that a lot. Young or old, normal or powered, he addresses everyone as an equal. He's not even conscious he's doing it, it's just part of who he is. Perhaps that's why Huntress has actually shared his patrol instead of bursting his brains open. And, after all, Vorpal is only three years older than Wiccan.
He puts a hand on Billy's shoulder and looks at him straight in the eye. 
"Yes, I did, actually. And that's not ok, what they did to you. It should -never- be okay. And in a way, that's why we're here, right? We fight the wackos in costumes, but we also fight for the kind of world in which nobody is afraid to exist. I never came out... not until after I died and became something else. Talk about heavy-handed growth metaphor, right?" he smirks, and then looks serious. "You ever wanna talk, you can call me anytime. I know what it's like to be alone, but by the sound of it you've got a group of allies-- which is good. I haven't managed to get that myself, but if there's ever anything you want to talk about that you'd rather not say to your friends, you can always count on me, alright? Unless I've died again, I'll come when called."
Wiccan grins and nods. "Yeah, that is why we do this. Or at least why I do it, and just about every one of my friends. I get what you mean too, on the heavy handed metaphor thing. The whole being a mutant thing is like that, in more ways that one." After he gets the serious look Wiccan smirks a little. "Actually, I was about to make the same offer. Mom is a psychiatrist and one of Grand Fathers was a Rabbi, so being a good listener is in the blood." After a little while the sirens start to get loud enough even Wiccan with his paltry regular human hearing can hear them. "And that would be our cue to cut the personal talk and be all professional and shop talk with the boys in blue." He says with a rye smile and starts to float a little bit of the ground till his eye level is just an inch or so above where an average person's would be.
The cat nods at the offer, and then grins at the theatrics. "Two can do that..." he rises slightly off the ground. Yeah, he forgot to mention he could float. "Oh, and Wiccan? It always gets better. Remember that." He says, and then turns to face the authorities as the flashlights finally break into their circle. Vorpal holds up his BSA badge for them to see. "Hey, boys, we saved you some leftovers."
Wiccan grins and nods. "Yeah, but only one of us has to do it for the psychological advantage. At least your old enough that they will treat you with some respect without things liek obvious power displays or just the effect of having to look the slightest bit upwards to look you in the eye. It's a cheap trick, but beats the Go home kid speech." Wiccan shrugs and when the authorities show up he gives them a small wave and holds both hands where they can be seen cause he knows after the kind of calls they probably got they are going to be a little jumpy till they realize that the two still standing are on the side of angels. The quip from Vorpal gets a small smile and makes him add, "Both original recipe and extra tasty crispy."F
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