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cbraxs · 7 years

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Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 1

A layer of fresh white snow covered the sidewalks and buildings of a Progressive Era New York City. Horse drawn carriages and vintage cars trampled the snow in the road into brown slush. Pedestrians dashed between vehicles. Children ran free in the streets as they tossed balls back and forth.

The pale winter sun had little effect on the world below. Women in furs and elaborate hats, and men in long coats and top hats traversed the sidewalk, their breath visible in the frigid air.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, no one noticed the swirling green vortex open up on the porch of an apartment complex and spit out three boys: Joe, Sam, and Fred. The vortex closed and the trio landed with a thud on top of each other.

Joe groaned and rubbed a kink out of his shoulder. "Everyone okay?"

"Besides my broken neck?" Fred asked and surveyed their surroundings. "Where the heck are we, the fifties?"

Besides Joe, Sam sat up. He cleaned a smudge on his glasses and put them back on. "Ford Model T cars, old timey clothes, horses in the road. It looks like the nineteen-hundreds." Sam gasped. "We must be a hundred years in the past!"

Joe shot Sam a look. "Way to go, Sam."

"Me? I'm not the one who had my best friend hanging from the rafters!"

"Easy, guys," Fred said. "Let's just find The Book and—"

"Wait." Joe frowned and looked around. "Where's—"

The door of the apartment flew open. A blonde woman wielded a cane overhead and about to beat them to death.

Killed before they were even born. What else was new?

Before the three of them were nearly assaulted by a cane-wielding psycho, it was a normal day in their seventh-period History class. Ms. Kitsch allowed them to work on their homework worksheets in class while she read a book with a dragon on it.

Joe, Sam, and Fred sat together the farthest from the door and the closest to the windows. Four desks were pushed together, the spare desk across from Joe.

Most of the class either chatted, texted, or napped. Sam dutifully worked on his homework. while Fred bobbed his head to the music on his phone. Joe shuffled his deck of magic cards and nudged Fred next to him.

"Pick a card," Joe said.

Fred pulled out an earbud and rolled his eyes. "Again? Come on, Joe..."

"I got it this time. Honest."

Fred relented and drew a card.

"Now write your name on it."

"Uh..." Fred patted himself down. He nudged Sam. "Hey, you got a pen?"

Sam sighed. "You know, one of these days you should really bring your own materials to school."

Fred put his arm around Sam and jostled him. "Why would I do that when we have you around, Sam?"

Sam handed him a pen. Fred wrote down his name and handed the card back to Joe.

Joe grinned and shuffled the deck again. "Alright, now—"

"Joseph!"

Joe jumped and scattered his cards across the desk. His classmates snickered at him.

Ms. Kitsch stood at the front of the class next to a girl he did recognize. His teacher shook her head. "Joseph, please put your cards away until after school."

He nodded. His cheeks warmed. "Sorry, ma'am."

She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, we have a new student in the class. Want to introduce yourself?"

The girl wrung her hands together. Her eyes fluttered from person to person. "I'm Izzy Shabazz."

For a second, Joe swore her eyes studied him, but as soon as he noticed it, her eyes were averted elsewhere.

"Anything you want to share about yourself, Isabella?"

"Isadora," she corrected. "Um, I like art. Painting, sculpting. History's cool, too."

Ms. Kitsch eyes lit up. "We're learning about the Renaissance this month. Do you have any interesting art history facts you'd care to share?"

The girl—Isadora— scrunched up her face in thought. "In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a lot of artists used Mummy Brown for their paintings, which was made of actual, real live mummies."

Ms. Kitsch face fell. "Oh! Um..."

"Pre-Raphaelite artist, Edward Burne-Jones, buried his tube of paint in his garden after he found out."

Kayla Hines, an attractive girl with long strawberry blonde hair, shot her hand up. "Is paint, like, still made of mummies? Cause I used to finger paint."

Isadora shrugged. "Let's hope not."

Ms. Kitsch shifted, a little disturbed by the new student. She clapped her hands. "Right! Anyway, class, please make Isadora feel welcomed. Isadora, here's your worksheet, due Monday. Take a seat in the empty chair back there, next to Samuel. Samuel, please raise your hand."

Sam cringed at his formal name but raised his hand.

Isadora sat down in the empty seat. Two curly pigtails dangled from the sides of her head as she rummaged through her backpack for a pencil.

Fred cleared his throat. "Hey, how's it going?"

An awkward beat. Izzy looked up, her brows knitted together confused. "Me?"

"Uh, duh, you."

"Fred!" Sam hissed. "Don't be rude."

Joe scooped up his cards. "Don't take it personally. Fred was raised in the jungle."

Fred held his hands up and feigned offense. His smirk gave him away. "What? I'm just trying to greet her. 'Make her feel welcomed' and all that." He turned his attention back to her.

Isadora twisted her earrings. "I'm... fine. Thank you."

"As you know, I'm Fred. That's Sam, and he's Joe." Fred motioned as he listed off their names. Sam nodded. Joe waved when his name was mentioned.

She smiled. "Nice to meet you guys."

She and Sam turned their attention to their homework. Joe collected his cards and tried to resume his trick. Joe noticed Isadora watched them from the corner of his eye.

Joe pulled out the Ace of Spades. "Was this your card?"

Fred snorted. "No."

"How about... the Seven of Diamonds?"

"Nuh uh."

Joe sighed. He knew he messed up when he spilled the cards, but he wanted to give it a go anyway.

"Is this it?" Isadora said. Joe flinched. She held up the King of Clubs. Fred the Freak was scribbled across the top.

Fred snapped his fingers. "That's the one."

Joe stared at the card as she handed it to him. "How did you get that?"

"It was under your seat."

Sam, who had apparently been listening to them the entire time, chuckled under his breath.

"Can you try with me?" Isadora asked. She spun her earrings. Joe noticed that they were little hourglasses.

Joe grinned. For some reason, no one (besides his uncle Joe) ever wanted to see his tricks. "Sure."

They went through the same motions as before, minus Joe spilling the cards. He pulled out the Joker card. "Is this it?"

Isadora shook her head. "Not quite."

"Then what about..." He reached behind her ear and pulled out the Queen of Hearts, with Izzy scrawled underneath. "This?"

Fred whistled, impressed.

"Finally," Sam muttered under his breath.

There was a twinkle in Isadora's eyes. "Are you a magician?"

"No," Fred and Sam said in unison.

Joe glared at them. "Yes, I am."

"That's so cool," she said. "So is my Dad."

She paused, her face contorted in sadness. It vanished as soon as it came, so Joe dismissed it.

"Who's your dad?" Sam asked.

"The Sensational Shabazz."

Joe's chin dropped. "No way. He's your dad?"

Fred coughed, sneaking in an audible, "Dork."

Isadora nodded, but her face turned dark. She frowned, her green eyes searched for something in Joe's face. "Don't you—"

Whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the school bell. On cue, everyone jumped up and swarmed to the door as Ms. Kitsch wished everyone a good weekend.

Joe stuffed his cards back into his back pocket. "What's your next class?" He asked her.

"Art."

"I have math." He hefted his backpack to his shoulder. "But if you're interested, I'm auditioning for the talent show. A magic act. You could probably already tell that."

She nodded and stuffed her worksheet into her bag.

Joe cleared his throat. "You can come watch if you want. It's in the auditorium."

She said she would, but she seemed distracted. The trio left the class and left Isadora behind, her brow furrowed in thought.

Joe thought he'd found his big ticket item. The teachers limited each act to be four minutes, so he figured he'd focus on one thing, something big. The Metamorphosis.

The Metamorphosis was one of Joe's favorite tricks. The magician would bind themselves in chains and be locked away in a box by their lovely assistant. The assistant would then stand on top of the box and shield them from the audience with a curtain. When the curtain dropped, the magician and the assistant would switch places.

The problem? Joe wasn't a hundred percent sure how the trick was done.

And he didn't have a big enough box.

And the only chains he had were ones kids used to play Cops and Robbers.

And Fred was far from lovely.

Joe had to make due with a metal laundry hamper and Anna's old pink bed sheets. He was grateful his friends were even willing to help. Fred slapped the handcuffs on him, while Sam stood on the catwalk, moving the spotlights around.

Joe crawled into the hamper. Fred couldn't stand on top without it caving in, so Fred stood in front, held up the sheets, and dropped them. When the sheets crumbled to the floor, Fred dashed behind hamper as Joe struggled to get out. The hamper wobbled and fell to one side. Joe shrieked.

He tripped getting up, the cuffs still on one hand, and waved his arms in a flourish. "TA—"

In a moment, Joe surveyed his audience. The teacher in charge slept, his head tilted back. Drool dribbled down his chin as he snored like a chainsaw. Two students were making out in the back row, shielded by the shadows. The janitor listened to his Walkman and pushed a sweeper vacuums down the isle.

He dropped his arms. "Da."

Enthusiastic clapping made him jump. Isadora sat in the middle of the first row. He stared at her, surprised that she came.

She forced a smile. "Well, that was—"

A light plummeted from the rafters and it exploded on impact.

"Sorry!" Sam called from the catwalk. "I was—AH!"

Metal ground together. Cables snapped and Sam fell. He hung upside down, fifteen feet from the floor. The cables wrapped around him were the only thing kept him from becoming a Sam pancake on the stage.

"Help!" He cried, waving his arms around.

"Quit flailing, Sam!" Fred stood up from behind the laundry hamper. He pointed a thumb at Sam. "I got him."

He disappeared behind the stage. Fred struggling to untangle Sam became white noise in the background.

Joe sighed and sat on the edge of the stage. "Were you gonna to say that I'm a pathetic joke who's a disgrace to the industry and should give up on magic?"

Isadora jumped up. "N-no! I was just— I meant—"

"Relax." He raised his hands in defense. "I'm just kidding."

"Oh. Right. Of course you were."

She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Joe wondered why she'd reacted so flusteredly like no one ever joked with her.

Isadora spun her earrings. It must've been a nervous tick. "So, you're a Houdini fan?"

"What gave it away?" Joe asked.

"The Metamorphosis was one of his signature tricks. My parents used to perform it at shows. I think you do need some practice with it, though."

"I need help. I'd love to get some pointers from my uncle, but he's, um, out of town a lot."

Joe wasn't about to tell her his Uncle Joe was a time traveling magician. That kind of thing tended to make you look crazy.

Isadora walked towards the stage. "That stinks. My dad's out of town, too."

"For a show?"

She nodded but frowned. She didn't look sure.

Joe opened his mouth to speak when Fred yelled above them, "Heads up!"

Their eyes shot up. Sam, now free from his restraints, fell towards the stage.

"Sam!" Joe cried.

Isadora grabbed the closest thing— Joe's backpack— and whipped it underneath Sam. He landed on the bag with a thump and rolled over. He groaned.

In an instant, the three of them were at his side. Joe helped him to his feet. "Sorry, Sam. Are you okay?"

"Just peachy," he said. He rubbed the arm he landed on and turned to Isadora. "Thanks for the quick thinking."

"You're welcome," she said. "I'm sorry I hurled your backpack, Joe. I hope nothing's broken."

Sam picked up the bag. "Jeez, Joe. What do you have in here—"

The Book slipped out of the bag and hit the floor. The pages fluttered open. The familiar green mist curled from The Book and surrounded the four of them.

"—bricks?" Sam squeaked.

Isadora waved her hand to disperse the mist. "What the heck is—"

In an instant, the four of them warped in a flash of green light.

The trio scrambled up as the woman swung the cane, missing Sam by a hair.

"Hey!" Sam yelped. "Watch where you're swinging that thing."

The woman hefted the cane over her head. "I'm tired of you good-for-nothing bums thinking you can sleep on my porch whenever you want."

She swung again. They dodged. Joe stepped in front of his friends.

"We're not bums, ma'am," he said. "We're actually—"

"Say 'magicians'," Fred muttered, "and I'll beat you myself."

The woman fumed. Her glare could melt the snow on the porch. She was six feet tall with blonde hair up in a bun. She wore an old fashioned blouse, high waist skirt, and a bowtie.

She lowered her cane. Joe's heart skipped a beat. A glowing hourglass filled with green sand sat on top of the silver cane.

How had he not noticed that before?

His eyes shot up to the apartment address. A familiar number "twenty-six" was printed on the windowpane. This was his home, a hundred years in the past, and this bloodthirsty nut must have been an ancestor of his.

Joe pointed at the number above. "Guys! Check it out."

Fred and Sam gasped.

"What are you boys jawing about?" the woman asked, the edge still in her voice.

Before they could answer, a boy step hopped forward from behind her, tugging on a dress shoe. His sweater vest was untucked, his tie was askew.

The boy smiled wide. "Bout time you three show up!"

The boys looked at each other.

"Us?" Fred asked.

"Of course, you knuckle head." The boy tied his tie. "I've been waiting for you guys. Mother, these are some of my buddies from work. Swell guys. We're heading to the show together."

The boy's mom squinted her eyes at the trio. The three of them smiled and tried to look swell.

"My apologies," she said through gritted teeth. She turned to the boy, and her eyes softened. "Eugene, be safe. I'll expect you home by eight tonight."

Eugene kissed her on the cheek and grabbed a coat from the coat hanger. "I'll tell you all about when I'm back. Come on boys, let's walk and talk."

Eugene motioned for the three of them to follow and bounded down the steps, a spring in his step. The boys looked at each other.

"Should we follow him?" Joe asked.

A muffled rustle. The woman peeked behind the blinds and glared at them.

Sam yelped and bolted down the steps after Eugene. "I vote yes."

Joe and Fred followed suit.

Eugene weaved through the crowd as if this was a regular routine of his. The trio caught up to him as he attached a rounded collar to his shirt.

"Thanks for the save back there, man," Joe said.

"You're quite welcome," Eugene said, "if you'll excuse my mother."

Fred tugged on his hat to keep it from blowing away. "Nice lady. In a murderous sort of way."

"Her bark is worse than her bite," Eugene assured them. "Besides, she's a little on edge since a certain, um, family heirloom vanished."

"This family heirloom wouldn't happen to be a blue book, would it?" Joe asked.

Eugene halted. "With silver squiggles?"

"That's the one."

"How do you know that? Are you another time traveler?"

Joe looked at Sam and Fred. A silent conversation happened between them in a second. Joe decided to come clean and told Eugene the truth. Eugene stared at him and listened in stunned silence before he accepted Joe's story. He surprised Joe with a bear hug and picked him up. Pedestrians gave them odd looks as Sam and Fred snickered.

"This is outstanding!" Eugene laughed and let Joe down. "I never met a future relative before. That explains what happened to The Book. Ours must have warped out you three warped in."

"And our Book is missing, too," Joe said.

"Which is just perfect," Sam mumbled.

"Hey, it's not exactly like this trip was planned. I didn't even know The Book was in my bag."

It was true. Joe remembered locking The Book in the box after a run in with a belligerent Bolshevik in pre-Soviet Russia (long story. Don't ask). Did he put it in his bag before school this morning? No, he didn't see why he would do that. Was Anna playing a practical joke? Joe doubted it. Anna could be annoying, but she was responsible with The Book.

He shook his head. It didn't matter now. They were already here, so all they could do now was to find The Book. Besides, it wasn't the only thing they were missing.

"Have you seen a girl around here, Eugene?" Joe asked. "She has pigtails, a bluish greenish shirt."

"Pants," Fred added. "That might help narrow it down."

Eugene shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell. But maybe she's at the Hippodrome?"

Fred frowned, confused. "That office building where my cousin Tyler is a janitor?"

"Why would she be there?" Joe asked.

"Maybe she's looking for a job?"

Joe rolled his eyes.

"Actually," Sam said, "the Hippodrome used to be the biggest theater in New York. It had circuses, operas. Houdini even had a show where he made an elephant completely disappear."

Eugene smiled. "That's precisely where we're going!"

Joe choked. "W-we-we're going to see Houdini?"

"That's right."

"And he's going to make a whole elephant disappear?"

"Well, half an elephant wouldn't make much of a show now, would it?"

Stars formed in Joe's eyes. "Let's go. Right now."

Joe started again. Fred snagged him by the hood of his jacket. "Dude, did you forget about the whole girl that we made disappear?"

He folded his arms. "No! Of course not. But there is a chance she's there."

Sam and Fred looked at each other like they didn't buy it.

Joe wasn't trying to cover his tracks. Of course, he was excited for the chance to see Houdini's show, but he did believe Isadora was there or at least was heading there. She was clearly a fan of Houdini, and, once she figured out what was happening, would probably take up the chance to see Houdini live, too. That is if she wasn't in any trouble.

Joe's gut twisted at the thought that his Book put an innocent girl he barely knew in danger. He remembered how lost and terrified he was when he first warped. He hated to think she might be going through the same thing.

"Besides," Joe said, "maybe Isadora has The Book?"

Izzy fell face first in the middle road and ate a mouthful of dirty snow. She sat up and spat out snow.

"Bleh," she groaned. Her head pounded. "What the—"

An old fashioned car dodged her by an inch. The driver laid on the horn as he passed.

"—heck!" She jumped.

Men and woman in vintage clothes scrutinized her as cars and horse-drawn carriages avoided her. The drivers shouted and gave her rude gestures.

She shivered. "Oh, God. Is this purgatory?"

A carriage drawn by two horses approached Izzy, but instead of moving around her, it forged straight ahead. Izzy barely noticed. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her surroundings, too stunned move.

At the last second, the man guiding the horses pulled at the reigns and the horses stopped.

"Imprudent simp!" The man yelled.

Izzy frowned. "I'm not a chimp."

The man on the carriage wore a black and blue Venetian mask, along with a black cape and suit. A ring with a blue stone shone on his middle finger.

Master Mysterio was painted on the side of the royal blue carriage along with a caricature of the driver.

Izzy nodded approvingly at the artwork. "Nice paint job."

The man, presumably Master Mysterio, narrowed his eyes. "Jaywalking in the middle of the road. Interrupting the flow of traffic. Are you a fool?"

"A fool?"

A crowd formed around to watch them. They pointed at Izzy and murmured, who shivered and hugged herself. She wished she had the foresight to bring a jacket.

"Are you aware that jaywalking is a crime?" Master Mysterio went on. "You should be arrested."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Arrested?"

Out of the corner of Izzy's eye, she noticed someone step out of a car and head towards the two of them. The man, who wore a bow tie long coat suit, was around her father's age with graying hair parted in the middle.

Some of the people in the crowd oohed and ahhed as he approached. Master Mysterio glowered down at him.

"No need to cause a scene, Lauren," the new man said.

Izzy's jaw went slack. "Y-y-you're Hou—"

"Houdini, my friend," Mysterio said in a way that made Izzy doubt he considered him a friend. "You're defending this delinquent?"

Harry Houdini— THE Harry Houdini— shook his head and motioned to Izzy. "Can't you tell that she's an immigrant by her eccentric outfit?"

She looked down at her outfit. She wore a teal tank top over a white t-shirt and pink pants. She wondered if the colors were too bright.

Izzy said, "Me, uh, ahoy-hoy! Wow! You're a—what?"

Oh, Isadora, she thought. Your eloquence is unparalleled.

"She can't even speak proper English yet," Houdini said. "The poor girl simply isn't privy to our laws yet."

"Ignorance of the law is not an excuse." Mysterio snapped his fingers and pointed into the crowd." Officer! Arrest this-this goon, post haste."

A chubby officer stepped forward, baton in hand. For a moment, Izzy worried that the cop would beat her. She could defend herself a little. She'd been learning Tae Kwon Do for about three months now on her father's insistence, but he also told her to always respect authorities.

But instead, he replaced the baton with rusty handcuffs.

Izzy squeaked and backed up. "I-I'm only fifteen! Don't I get three strikes or a stern talking to? A pink slip?"

Her pleas were ignored as the officer cuffed her. "Sorry, little lady. I got a quota to fill."

The masked man smirked. Houdini shook his head and trekked back to his car. The crowd dispersed, upset that the show was over.

Izzy was loaded into the back of patrol car. She was greeted by twins cuffed together and a plump elderly woman.

"Uh..." Izzy shrugged her shoulders in lieu of waving. "Hello?"

The woman snorted and flipped around a butterfly knife. For some reason, she wasn't handcuffed. The twins sized her up, looked at each other, and chuckled.

The vehicle started. Izzy tripped but managed to steady herself.

She backed up to the door and gave it a good kick. Locked. She spread her palms as best she could against the chill metal. Thin enough to slip past.

"Hey, baby," one of the guys said. "You ain't gonna get out. Why don't you come sit over here?"

"No thank you, sir." She wiggled her arms. The sharp edges of the handcuffs dug into her skin. They were thick and heavy, but breaking out would be child's play.

Her father often warned her about using any magic in public. People would freak out or ask too many questions, but the thought of going to jail made her stomach churn. Besides, she didn't think that the officers at the police station would help her, let alone believe her when she told them she wasn't from this time period, or pocket dimension, or whatever.

Wherever she was, those guys would have to know. Izzy remembered seeing the three of them after they were sucked into that glowing green portal. They had to be here, too, but where exactly?

She bit her lip as she tried to recall their names. She could kick herself, she was always so bad at names. She never had to remember any before today. After a moment, the names Sam and Fred came to her. She hadn't forgotten Joe's name.

The morning after her dad left, Izzy read and reread and rereread the letter he left her. Partially because she was dyslexic, and partially because she couldn't believe what was going on.

Her father told her to find the magician name Joe and she had. He was supposed to protect her while her father was away, but Joe seemed unaware of what was happening. Had her dad forgotten to inform Joe? He could be pretty forgetful.

She needed answers, about where she was and about her father. For that, she needed to find Joe, Sam, and Fred. Izzy hoped that they were in a better situation than she was.

But first things first, she needed to get out of the cop car.

"Well." She looked at her new friends. "You guys are gonna see something weird."

Lauren Anderson grinned as he headed to the Hippodrome. He considered the encounter with the "great" Harry Houdini a minor victory. For years, he'd struggled to outdo the man to no avail. While not in magic, Lauren had finally accumulated a win against him. Sending some silly girl on her way to jail was merely collateral damage.

He handed over the reigns of his buggy to the negro valet and grabbed his heavy jacket from his side seat. Something block shaped slid from the seat and hit the ground.

Lauren furrowed his brow. "What in God's name..."

A blue book decorated with silver ribbons and strange symbols stared up at him. He recognized it as that book his dimwitted assistant, Eugene Ellis, always had his nose in. Lauren figured that Eugene left it there when he made him wash the carriage yesterday.

Eugene was quite secretive of the contents of the book and would snap it shut whenever he noticed someone around. Curious, Lauren scooped it up and headed inside.

Lauren fought his way through the crowd. To his chagrin, the crowd was large, full of the rich, poor, and in between. Houdini never failed to drum up an audience.

He looked at the Lapis Lazuli ring on his middle finger. He considered making it rain on this little parade, but decided against it.

Once inside, Lauren picked a seat front and centered and flipped open the book. Blocks of text next to realistic pictures of Egyptian pyramids, medieval villages, Chinese landmarks, and other interesting historical bits flashed by as he turned the page. Eugene's father was a historian, and his ill-tempered yet fetching mother was a teacher, so it didn't surprise him that Eugene would also be interested in history.

He landed on a picture of the Hippodrome with a crowd lined up to the doors. He scoffed but decided to read the text.

January 7th, 1918, the paragraph read. Lauren Anderson sat in seat fourteen, row A, in the Hippodrome, reading The Book—

Lauren dropped The Book. It landed with a thump that was dull to his ears. He clenched his chest to keep his heart from galloping out of his ribcage. He counted backwards from ten in his head until his heart slow down.

He ignored the strange looks he got as his shaky hands picked The Book back up. He turned back to the page.

Lauren dropped The Book and nearly had a conniption. People looked at him funny. He didn't notice.

An image of himself reading The Book appeared underneath the text. In the image, he looked as though he was on the verge of vomiting. The image was clearer and more realistic than any picture taken with a camera.

He snapped The Book shut and tried to control his breathing. Was this some kind of past/present future telling device? What was that little brat Eugene doing with a book like this? How did he get a book like this?

Lauren twisted the ring on his finger. In all fairness, Eugene wasn't the only one with a magical item. However, his little rain machine wasn't quite as impressive.

A grin spread across Lauren's face as formulated a plan to use this to his advantage. Returning The Book hadn't crossed his mind.

#twt #fanfic #timewarptrio #time warp trio

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