#at this point tasks would just equate to some assistance with cleaning his office or getting him oil but like.

[chiprewington]

It's the little things, that comforting quiet. A closeness spoken with no words. Just sit there and look pretty, please.

[fatandnerdy30]

Little Orphan Spider 6

By the time it hit six-thirty, everyone was tired. Peter had finished his assignments early and had found an glove from a prototype bot and had been programming it to wave and do all types of signals every time someone spoke to it, when a buzzer went off, scaring the teen.

"It's time to give up for the day," Gwen called to the room. "Have a good day and we'll see everyone on tomorrow, okay?" She looked towards Peter and winked. "I'll be speaking to Mr. Stark after you leave, since he gave us the problem to solve. I'm sure he thought it was a challenge." The teen stiffened. Tonight? She was going to tell Mr. Stark tonight? "See you tomorrow." Gwen waved to the boy as he hurried out of the room. "He is so adorable."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was running out of the building by then, getting a 'have a good night, Peter' from Friday, which made him feel good. He ran to the front door and rushed out, desperate to get out and fly about the city on webs. Skipping the subway, he ducked into a secluded spot in the Empire Gardens and suited up. Pulling on his mask, he shot a web to a tree and ricocheted off the branches in order to shoot a web higher and he was in the air. Above the city, past all the smog, the world was clean. Flying through the air, he couldn't hear any of the sirens above the wind, he could only see skies and the reflection of the clouds off building windows. This was his world. On his way home, Peter stopped a bank robbery and helped save a cat in a tree, so he landed in an alleyway next to the group home and got changed quickly before walking to the front door and going in. "It's only Peter," he called tiredly, locking the door behind him before hearing footsteps come running towards him. "Peter!"Mr. Martin cried, sliding to a stop in front of the teen, who stared at him with a shocked expression. "What did you do today?!" The brunette raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I-I don't think I did anything, Mr. Martin..."

"Apparently you did something....because I got a call from Ms. Potts.....Tony wants you to come stay with him for two months." Peter stood there for a minute, shocked, before his eyes widened. "WHAT!?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tony stood before a room of reporters with his 'interview smile', as he called it, on. He held up a hand to quiet everyone down, and the room slowly stopped talking. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I've called this meeting to tell you that, I, Tony Stark, will be taking in a foster child." Instantly the room erupted with people yelling, camera's going off, you name it, until Tony held up his hand again. "Please, please, I'll answer any questions you may have....yes, sizzling hot blonde, your question?" The woman blushed slightly. "Yes, Mr. Stark, how do you plan on taking care of said child, when you yourself, act like a child?" "Hmm, that's a good point, but I believe I will have the assistance of a Mrs. Stark-Potts-name in question- for the task of looking after the poor, unfortunate child. Next. Mr. Bulbous Nose." The man Tony pointed to gave him a stern look before standing. "Mr. Stark, why are you choosing to do this now, so soon after the tragedy in Jordan?" "Oh, well, I felt so bad about what happened. I sent them a few suits to start building again, as well as am fully funding the project myself. I just feel like if I can make the world a better place for one child, then that child, in turn, can help another, and so on and so on." Ugh, he hated this mushy crap. "Okay, Mr. Giraffe-neck?" "Very funny, Mr. Stark. Have you already chosen a child, or will your CEO be choosing one?" "Ah, a good question. Yes, I have already chosen a child, who I will not be naming until he gets here, which I will then hold another press conference and introduce him to the world. I believe that is all the time I have for now, so until the next meeting, have a good day!" 

He smiled and waved as he stepped away from the podium, his face falling as he stepped behind a curtain. "This 'bleeding heart' persona is going to kill me," he whined to his fiancee, who smiled and kissed him. "It won't hurt you to open your doors to one child in your life. Who knows, it may leave you wanting another one." "Now that, I like the sound of, because if we want one, we'll have to practice. Like, a lot. Let's get to that now, okay?" Pepper laughed and pushed the billionaire away. "Later. For now, I have to make sure Peter's things are delivered here and everything we ordered for him arrives on time. You know, Tony, you didn't have to go to these extremes for him. I mean, his own hot tub in his bathroom? Really?" Stark shrugged and hooked his arm around the woman's waist as they walked. "I just feel bad for the kid, you know? I don't know what kind of a life he's had, so I want to give him everything." "And have him loose it after two months," Pepper argued. "Well, it's not like he can't come and visit. Plus, he'll always have a room when he has to stay over for the internship, right?" The woman sighed and shook her head. "Okay, okay. You win. Just, don't blow the kid up, okay?" "Who me? Nah, I'll just take an arm, maybe a hand." The two laughed as they strolled down the hall to the elevator. "But, I knew this was the kid after what Gwen told me last night. She came running into my office and told me the kid had solved the equation that both Bruce and I have been having problems with, you know the one that will turn chemical matter into a solid mass? It was the best news I've ever heard. I see great things for this kid. Great things." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning day, Peter had never been so nervous to go to school. He knew by now everyone knew about the guardianship by Tony Stark, having seen the press conference on the news when it was aired live. And when he walked into school, suddenly, everyone was talking about it. They had to wonder, who was the lucky kid that had won the lottery for the next two months? It was starting to get to Peter, so when Ned waved at him, he couldn't help but look pleadingly at him. "Hey, did you hear about....you already did. What's the matter?" "Ned....it's me," Peter whispered. "I'm the one that Tony Stark wants to take in!" Ned's face dropped, but then he smiled. "Dude! That is so awesome! You get to meet Tony Stark, and live with him!" The boy gasped. "Do you think you'll be living with the Avengers? Like, do you think they live where you'll be? How cool would that be?" "Ned, stop! No, that would not be cool! That would be the opposite of great! If I'm there, in a high security tower, then how is the other guy," he pointed to his backpack, "going to get out and go to Queens?" The other boy's face fell again. "Oh yeah....I forgot about," he made a motion to the bag, "him. Oh man...that's gonna suck. Or, maybe I could like, you know, be the guy in the chair and hack into the tower, or at least your room, and shut off any safety wires or things like that?" Peter's hopes began to rise. "Do you think you can do that? Because, I don't have a choice in the matter. Mr. Martin made the decision for me last night, telling me it will be a great experience, you'll learn so much from Mr. Stark, blah blah...." He took a deep breath and closed his locker. "But, I'm also scared, man....what if Mr. Stark finds out about me being, you know, and his kicks me out? Or worse, he gives me to Dr. Banner to experiment on?" Ned's eyes widened. "Oh, dude that would be so cool! You would get to meet Bruce Banner! Oh wait, the experimenting thing isn't so cool..." "I know! I don't know what to do! Spider-Man can't not patrol the city....So, when I go, try and break into the system, ok? If you can't, maybe I can figure a way to sneak out..." His friend nodded. "Of course man, yeah. But...I bet you Tony Stark already has a room all set up for you. Do you think you'll be able to have friends over? Because, I've always wanted to see what it's like to be in Stark Tower..." Peter smiled, so happy for his friend calming his nerves. "I'll ask, but I'm sure Mr. Stark will have no problem with it." And they walked down the hall towards their first class. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When the day was over, Peter made his way to his internship, leaving his bag with security and stepped into the scanner. "Hello, Peter," Friday greeted him. "I heard the good news, and I'm happy for you." "Thanks, Ms. Friday. But, how did...oh wait, stupid question." The boy held his hands out and was scanned. "Clear. I look forward to hearing you more often, Peter." Her voice was following him into the elevator where again, he was surrounded by people in suits. The teen hurried off the elevator, already feeling like this was going to be the worst two months of his life where he had to sneak around twice as much in order to be Spider-Man. With the scanners, he wouldn't even be able to bring his suit into the building! He would have to leave it in an alleyway and sneak out at night in order to get it to his room. And that would suck, because that meant he would have to climb all the way down the tower. The labs came into view and Peter let out a sigh as he walked in, smelling chemicals and other compounds around him, instantly feeling at ease. "Peter!" Gwen came running up to him to ruffle his hair. "I talked to the boss last night, and he said that was the greatest thing he'd ever heard in his life and he can't wait to meet you! But, he said he won't be available until this weekend, for some reason, I don't know why. Are you okay with that?" Peter just nodded, shifting his eyes to his station. "Y-yeah, I'm fine with that. Um....I'm just gonna get to work..I'm sure there are more problems for me to solve and stuff."

The blonde nodded and ruffled the boy's curls again. "And, if we have trouble, we'll call you!" Peter nodded with a fake laugh, collapsing in his chair and turning his monitor on. Suddenly, the peal of a bike bell rang out and a tricycle stood on the screen, making the boy roll his eyes. But, as soon as he clicked to log in, the face of the Tony Stark appeared on his screen. "Not bad, kid, heard about what you did, very impressed. I am not, impressed, however, that you thought you could hack into my system in order to change something that I set for you. That's very bad, Peter, very bad. I am disappointed in you, but, I am willing to give you another chance, since you're so young. I'm going to leave the security where it is, at a two so you can, what was it Friday said, oh yeah, 'get some work done'." The man used air quotes and eye rolls. "Easy on the hacking, there buddy, but it was a good job that my firewall didn't catch you. Good job. Stark, out." And just like that, the recording, or whatever it was, ended and all of Peter's files came up, but something was missing. He went into the start up menu, but he didn't see any of the computer data files. So that meant, Mr. Stark had them taken off his personal computer so Peter couldn't hack it again. Which was fine, because now that his security was higher, he could use the means to get things done. It was a point for him, in Peter's book. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And that was how the week progressed. Peter would go to school, then go to SI, and then later, for an hour or so, would patrol the streets of Queens. That was it, until one night, it became more. It was while Peter was swinging from a tree that he sensed something coming and he quickly dodged the drone that flew at him, shooting webs at it, taking it down. "Nice evening, huh Stark?" "Yeah, great. Listen, I'm going to ask you again to tell me who you are, and how you do the things you do. See, there's this guy that doesn't like secrets being kept from him even more than I do, and you're starting to get on his bad side. Which, I will say is a little safer than getting on mine, but still bad. So, save yourself some pain, come with me and we'll take off your little sock mask and I'll help give you a real suit." That caught Peter's attention, but, he knew he couldn't do it because of his age again, and the weapons he'd already seen. Weapons that could make someone disappear. "You see, Stark, if your boss had come to me, I wouldn't be so stubborn. But, since he sent you like his little errand boy, I'm gonna have to say no, again. Take your little toys and go play in your room." Peter knew the man was mad due to the silence, but he'd just about had enough of Mr. Stark on his tail that week. And now, he told him someone else wanted to meet unmask him? That was pushing it. "Have a good night, there, Stark. See you around. Or not." The boy shot a web to the nearest building and casually flung himself off the tree he was perched in. The nerve of that guy! Suddenly, his senses went haywire and Peter looked back to see an army of drones, each one of them trained on him. "Oh shit!" He dodged like his life depended on it. Every time one of the drones came too close, he would hit it with a web, making it unable to track his movements in it s camera. He was halfway through when suddenly gold and red flashed out of the corner of his eye. This was bad. "Stark, I haven't made any threat to you or your boss!" His voice sounded scared now, cracking a bit. "Stop this attack!" "Oh? But you have, Spider-Man. You've resisted me, and when the other guy got involved, him, and that made you a threat to the Avengers, and to the world. Who knows if you'll ever end up on the wrong side one day? You may not mean to, but without us, you most certainly will." Peter's eyes widened and he shook his head, shooting down another drone. "No! I'll never side against someone who wants to hurt people! And I will never fight against the Avengers!" "Not good enough." Tony lifted a hand and the drones began shooting tasers. Peter screamed as one clipping his leg, but he dodged almost all of them, crying out when one happened to hit him. Why didn't Mr. Stark believe him? He was one of the good guys! Finally, Peter spotted a park filled with trees and had an idea. He dodged several tasers and a few blasts from Mr. Stark himself, and headed for the trees. The drones followed him, until Peter shot a few webs, forming a giant net that the drones all fell into, sticking to the chemically made webs. "Take that!" the teen shouted, but was too early in his victory, because no sooner did he finish, did Tony Stark shoot a blast behind him. It was too quick for Peter to dodge completely, and he cried out when his side suddenly was on fire. He checked to see if it was burning, but there were no flames, only blood and a singe mark on his suit. The teen looked back at Mr. Stark with fear and hurried to get out of the situation, tears almost falling from his eyes in fear. "Please stop, please stop!" he whispered, using every trick that he could to get away from Mr. Stark. He tried webbing the man's face, but he dodged it. "Need to try something new, Spidey!" the man called out. Peter, in a sudden move that would have normally gotten him killed, shot a web behind him and used it to get behind Iron-Man, and around a building too fast for the man to comprehend. Using the shadows to his advantage, Peter put as much distance between him and Mr. Stark as possible before diving into a small nook at the top of a building, folding himself in a way that he fit, nestled in the shadows. The boy stayed like that until he was sure Mr. Stark had stopped following him, but he checked the area just to be sure, before hurrying home. What a week. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was Friday, the day before he was supposed to go be a publicity stunt for Tony Stark. But..he would get to see inside the tower, and maybe even inside Tony's lab. He would get to see what the man had in store for him when they next met outside. It would be a major help...if he could even get to be Spider-Man, that is. He was worried about that part. But, he was sure that if he could convince the AI, Ms. Friday? He could get out of his room easy. A pain in his healing side made the boy wince and he lifted his shirt, checking on the shiny, burnt flesh. He had advanced healing, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. He prodded it, wincing when it hurt more. "This sucks," he sighed. He couldn't believe Mr. Stark had attacked him! He had already 'fixed' the hole in his suit with blue fabric he'd found in a dumpster in the back of a fabric store, but that didn't do anything for his side. A knock on his door made the teen pause in his examination and grabbed his backpack, picking up a shirt to make it look as if he were packing. "Come in!" he called, folding a tattered old shirt, which had happened to be his Uncle Ben's. It still smelled of him and his Aunt May. "Hey kid, wanted to see if you're okay." Mr. Martin came in, the Asian man looking around the room. "I'll make sure you still have your own room, you know, if you come back." Peter smiled. "Mr. Martin, this is just a temporary publicity stunt. I'll be back before you know it and everything will go back to the way it was." It hurt Peter to say that, but it was the truth. He was nothing but a stupid stunt Tony Stark was using to make the public believe he 'loved the children' or something like that.   He didn't want to be in the public's eye, being stared at with pity. That was the look that he hated, like whenever an adult found out he was fifteen and still in the system. They felt so bad for him, but they knew they wouldn't do anything for him. He would stay in the system until he turned eighteen, and then he could be Spider-Man full time. "Yeah, but you never know, Peter. You're a great kid, and if anyone could make Tony Stark fall in love with them, it's you." The man slung an arm over his shoulder in a one armed hug. "Just remember, be yourself, okay? This could very well be your last night here." He tightened the hug. "Love you, Pete," the man whispered and left the room, leaving Peter to finish packing his few things. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Pepper was standing in the living room early Saturday morning. Today was the day that Peter would come live with them, and she was excited. For the longest time she'd been hinting at Tony that she wanted a child, but the clueless dummy hadn't even gotten the hint, not even at the press meeting when she practically spelled it out for him. He just fell into his jokes, as usual. And even though Pepper wasn't experienced as a mother, she still wanted the chance to see what it was like. Last night she had checked Peter's room to make sure everything was set up right. In her annoyance, Tony had ordered a bunch of stuffed animals, claiming the kid was like twelve, which Pepper knew he had just turned fifteen. The woman, of course, got rid of most of them, leaving only the cute Avengers one, which she thought would be funny. There were game systems with every game she could think of that a boy would like....She just hoped Peter liked them. "Hey, hot stuff. Whatcha doin'?" Tony walked behind her, sliding an arm around her waist. "Just thinking...what if you were right, Tony? What if we're not ready for this? Or, what if we're more than ready, and in the end we can't give Peter up? That's what I'm afraid of..." She looked at her fiancee with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to go through that pain, Tony..." The billionaire sighed. "I know what you mean, but, if you want the kid after the whole two months, I'll pull some strings. Make him my legal ward or something. How does that sound?"

Pepper gave him a watery smile. "It sounds good, but I was hoping for something a little more." "I know," Tony sighed. "But, I'll do what I can to keep the kid if you want to, even bribe him to call you mom." This made Pepper laugh and she slapped his arm. "I won't let you spoil him, you know." Tony pouted. "But I thought that was the job of a...father.....oh I think I'm gonna be sick." He bulged out his cheeks and held a hand to his mouth. "Stop, Tony. I know you're nervous. But, I think you'll be a wonderful role model." They kissed, only breaking apart when Friday's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Boss, Peter Parker is on his way." The man took a deep breath and held his hand out to Pepper. "Ready to meet Peter?" "Definitely." the woman said, taking the hand and walked to the elevator to go down to the press conference.

[writermatthew]

Rules of Magic (reposted for readability its nbd. same post.)

(original)

bear in mind that this is still VERY much a wip & things will inevitably change, and also that i’ve likely missed things. i haven’t gotten to the point yet where i’m able to run a fine-tooth comb through everything. patience is appreciated, but feel free to ask me questions so i can add the answers here!

TYPES OF MAGIC

There are various types of magic in this world, all with different effects & tolls on the body casting and/or the body being cast upon. Notable types of magic include:

BATTLE MAGIC -

In truth, this magic is a combination of other fields of magic, multiplied by several dozen times. It elevates Match Fire (small puffs of fire, a la matches) to more extreme types of fire magic, such as Inferno Fire (the most destructive casting of fire magic); electric magic may be elevated from Static Shock (tiny bursts of electricity) to Lightning Magic (most destructive casting of electric magic); and so on and so forth.

The only magic regulated almost entirely to battle is that of the aptly named Weapon Magic. There are two subcategories of Weapon Magic: Armed and Unarmed. Armed falls into the conjuration field. One who uses Armed Weapon Magic will summon a weapon. This form of Weapon Magic is physically weaker but far steadier than its Unarmed cousin, which includes afflicting wounds without summoning a magical weapon. Only an extremely talented and focused magician can control the depth, width, and overall damage delivered by an attack.

HEALING MAGIC -

Arguably the most respectable form of magic, Healing Magic can be used by many but mastered only by a few. While useful, Healing Magic of any degree can be exhausting. The average magician can manage to stop the bleeding & knit a wound back together, or ease the pain of a sunburn, and not much more.

Healing Magic requires a lot of self-care before and after, as casting it draws upon the casters own energy. Masters of Healing Magic must practice for a very long time before they are officially employed. While all people understand and practice some extent of healing magic, only highly, highly trained individuals operate as magic doctors - this is the reason many magical people end up going to non-magical doctors; magical doctors are simply in short supply.

SMALL MAGIC -

If Healing Magic is the most respectable form of magic, Small Magic is the most useful. Alternatively referred to as Domestic Magic, this is the magic used to move small objects into hand, wash dishes, clean toilets… It can also be used for more nefarious purposes such as lockpicking and pickpocketing.

NECROMANCY -

As of now this is the only banned field of magic and relatively self explanatory. Bringing people back from the dead, bringing animals or even plants back from the dead is banned, as a reanimation of the flesh is not a reanimation of spirit. It has been banned for so long that nobody is quite certain what effect it takes on the living human body…

CASTING

Casting as a concept is simple: one must summon their energy, the desire to perform a certain magic, and cast. The execution often complicates things, as scant few spells can be cast without conductors to channel the harm they may cause. Even small spells should be used with the aid of a conductor, if not for the body’s sake, to used as little energy as possible.

Magic is innate. As such, it rises to the surface of the skin, where it is molded into the form its user wills it to take. Battle Magic in particular requires conductors - often multiple - in order to prevent clothes from entirely burning away.

Whether or not magic can be successfully cast through the likes of wands, staves, or any other physical weaponry is heavily debated. Some argue that, if made from the same materials as conductors, there is no issue. Others argue that such things would ruin the hands. Still more argue that a physical weapon can be used so long as its wielder also uses a conductor. No safe, significant conclusion has been reached.

CONDUCTORS

Conductors are the objects that allow a mage to safely use magic. While they are not always stable when more intense magic is used, they can be trusted when performing Small Magic and other such low-energy tasks. Conductors are worn with few exceptions on the arms, hands, and wrists, and have historically only been bands.

Multiple conductors can be worn at once to better their mage’s ability to perform magic, and furthermore to increase the intensity of the magic they can perform. It’s entirely possible to wear enough rings to equate the power of a wristband, and so on.

There are important things to note about conductors, their applications, and continued development.

DOCTORS, OFFICERS, & THE ELITE -

To date, the only professions allowed power greater than average (measurement pending) are magical doctors, police officers, and the Elite.

These three professions are allowed more conductors, and more powerful conductors. Opposite the general populace’s typical bands, these three groups are allowed conductors that are shaped much more like bracers, or even gauntlets.

The Elite are allowed the highest-grade conductors, as they have the highest possibility of wielding immensely powerful magic, as well as the broadest field of magic to master. They are highly-trained investigators as much as they are warriors.

Doctors and officers come in second. They too possess conductors modeled after bracers, but theirs are typically made of less powerful material.

YOUSSEF RADAMES & THE FUTURE OF CONDUCTORS

After quitting his job as a member of the Elite, Youssef Radames took the first and greatest strides toward a safer, more equal future. In the late nineties, Radames invented a material that allowed for the creation of more stable conductors with less chance of backfire. As soon as he was able, he began to sell them at affordable prices & amassed a fortune.

He contributed (and continues to contribute) more than half of this fortune to improving the lives of the people. With the rest, he builds bigger and better products, including the first-ever Conducting glove. At present, he is working on a way to link Conductors and clothing in such a way that the magic is as stable as it can possibly be as well as quick and energy-efficient.

Radames has also improved upon the design of the Elite’s Conductors. For an unknown reason, he refuses to share this design with the public, and has stated that “[he] will never give it to the Elite nor develop more than enough to assist in [his] development of public Conductors.”

TRAINING

Training a user in Magic is pretty similar to training them in, say, Physics or Gym or any other number of other subjects. In short, it’s just another subject for the student to master alongside their other classes.

The longer truth is that Magic training is often prioritized over mundane subjects due to the danger it can cause if an unstable mage decides they do not value their fellows. As such, every mage is taught basic understanding & control of magic, appropriate situations to use it in, and so on and so forth. Every mage will learn the fundamentals and a little more. To learn more, a mage must attend a university that specializes in their field.

LIMITATIONS

Conductors themselves come with natural limitations. After a certain point of using spells without halt, they’ll become unstable, and their user will most often feel a telltale prickle at the site of their Conductors.

Magic itself is limited only by how far the mage is willing to go. There are instances of a mage going without a proper Conductor and using his entire pool of power to accomplish his goal, thus resulting in the rapid degradation of his body. He was found effectively burned to a crisp, his surroundings nothing but ash.

Basically, the only true physical limit is the mage’s desire for self-preservation. Without that, there are no limits.

SCARRING

As mentioned previously, Conductors before the 2000s weren’t nearly as stable as they are now, and while they were better than the 1800s, they were far from great. They had a tendency to backfire when faced with more magic than they could handle, which often led to scars on or around the placement of the Conductor(s).

It’s important to note that scarring is more likely when using magic that’s potentially dangerous, the same way that one’s more likely to hurt themselves using a toaster oven than they are a whisk.

Scars typically pattern themselves the same way their type of magic would scar someone in a non-magical context, which is to say that Fire Magic will leave burn scars, Electric Magic will leave electrical scars, and so on and so forth. Unlike scars caused by non-magical entities, magical scars can only be healed if they’re relatively light, or initially cast with the intent to eventually heal or only briefly wound.

In extreme circumstances, healers may transfer a percentage of their patients’ wounds to themselves. Understandably, healers often bear scars that don’t align with the location or condition of their Conductors.

[theophenes]

Seattle nights Byte 2: Every Chummer's crazy for a Sharp-dressed Man

Byte 1

Preparation. If there was one thing Jeeves always took pride in, it was his technique and preparation. Six hours before meeting the other two members of is crew, and he was checking his weapons. Hold-out needler pistol. Taser. Calibrated internal systems.  He smirked, calibrating his reflexes. Wired stim systems at twenty percent, standard responsiveness.

He looked in the mirror, shaving with a straight-razor. Perfect. Clean. Orderly. Not a hair out of place, as he sculpted it with gel, putting in contact lenses to mask is eye color, looking a perfect, pristine, dull blue. Wrapping a layer of synthetic skin over the one identifying mark on his neck, covering it with a bio-gel adhesive. All the cosmetology skill of a high-end corporate fashionista, and here he was, putting that talent to the mundane task of looking so bland no one could notice him. Still, it was important to play the game, even if it took an hour or so.

The fashion was as tedious and meticulous as the hair and make-up. His glasses, lenses cleaned, with a subtle AR interface. A dark red tie, in a Windsor knot. Matching pocket square. A perfectly pressed shirt, a tailored jacket. The ensemble itself was almost an hour in prep time. Then, the weapons. Holster hidden under the breast of the jacket, one at the ankle for the tazer. A few slap-patches of sedatives in the wallet. A small ceramic folding knife in the left sleeve. Chrome cuff-links, both diamond-shaped with a line from one corner to the other. Accessories made the outfit, and the suit made the man, after all. Jeeves looked up at the clock. Three hours was enough time to re-read the dossier for any important info, seeing if Mr. Fong's additional context went anywhere. If nothing else, he might get a new grasp on the security detail.

Jeeves sat on a rather plain couch, in a plain, small apartment. The whole place looked like the sort of apartment you'd show to potential renters that nobody actually lived in. The decor was simple, black leather and office furniture. Paintings of dull still life pieces hung on the walls, utterly quiet and sterile, except for one piece of life, an oasis on the glass dining room table. A small bonsai tree, sand-pit, and a bowl of water decorated with Taoist runes. The suited man thumbed through the documents, muttering to himself. “Hmmm. I should trim the bonsai this weekend.”

   In the mean-time, Hel made preparations of her own, not to herself, but to her work. Her own little hovel was a strange, cluttered affair, the smell of ozone and burnt plastic permeating the air, with small hints of Buffalo-sauce flavored soy-chik crackers and mildly stale tea and burnt soykaf.

Her main workbench, eating table, and general all purpose place to set stuff was covered with various things, primarily manuals and pieces. However, a small tarp of less than square foot, unfolded on the floor, was where the current action took place. Soldering, re-pairing, and altering circuitry. The small drone looked like a companion model, around the size of a medium dog, coming up to the average person's knee, or the Orc's boots. She tapped away at her diagnostic computer with one hand while she poked and prodded with the other. Connectivity was good, but the new installs could cause interference if they overloaded. She had to watch the charge capacity. Still, it and Harpy should've been enough to get it done.

The music in the background to her welding and cursing was a perky playlist on hop-net, alternating between newer Idol Pop out of Tokyo and some weirdly chipper Ork Rawkers from Bristol called “Da Noiz Boiz.” She smirked and stopped to check her time and wipe grease from her fingers. This new model would be up and running in time for the show.

As she finished up the drone re-working, she got ready to head out the door. Shotgun, forged mag-key, a duffel bag for the new drone, her trademark loud jacket, here less trade-mark shit-eating grin, a neon red pair of capri pants black boots, and a faded t-shirt showing a bunch of cats walking on type-writers.

She checked her pockets, then remember to grab her e-cig. After all, some essentials were bigger than others.

---------------------------------

Fong's idea of preparation was, unsurprisingly, flipping through the dossier while sitting down and eating some...unique street food. The grub was referred to as a Zog-puff, which was basically seaweed and soy-flour broiled into soft, crispy little things that were somewhere between a good crouton and a bad hush-puppy. He was dipping them in a sort of sticky thing that could pass for Teriyaki sauce if you were a  Berlin street musician who had only seen the stuff in a magazine before trying this concoction. Still, it was cheap, and that was what mattered.

Fong sighed, hanging upside down from a rafter on the ceiling as he sifted through the dossier on his pda while attempting to handle the Zog-puffs with chopsticks, while neither of those things were meant to work in concert. He grinned, juggling them slightly as he considered it. The pay-off, as per the dossier, would allow him to present his first offering. And set enough aside that he could eat for a few weeks, prep for the next job. New digs weren't part of the equation yet, but hey—it was Seattle. Opportunities were never lacking, only the luck and circumstances to survive them.

The slim adept considered this as he popped another puff into his mouth. “Soon, if I can ge--opmhrhrmrrhhmrmr,” he hummed as he ate the puff and then swallowed heroically, performing a not-quite-ab-crunch to do so, “I can develop the resources necessary for the shot at nomononph,” he said to no one in particular, although he hoped a certain spirit was listening to him, somewhere.

He sighed. “Either way, I can't meet the buyer. That'd likely cause more trouble than it's worth. Still, I need to deal with the security. Best to pack some flash-bangs on top of the usual toys. And the prayer beads, yeah, that'll do...even a bad acolyte could stand to use his prayers,” the elf smirked and laughed weakly. He enjoyed dark humor, even if it was at his own expense. Hell, he deserved it sometimes. The smiling heretical monk. The weird one. He shook his head. “Well, if that's the only punchline I've got, we're definitely in need of a rematch, then,” he rubbed the back of his head and dropped from the rafters. “Okay, quick bath at that shower farm two blocks down, then we grab our ass-whuppin' gear and get going.”

-----------------------------

Jeeves’ preferred meeting place was not the sort of place that served fallout nuclear wings with extra sauce. It was, to put it politely, a  music school practice room in Central Auburn, near a few nightclubs. Dull, uninteresting, with multiple sound-proof rooms where a bunch of people dressed tackily could have a private session with no equipment for 20 nu-yen. Plenty of runners came in, pretending to be either musicians or managers holding practice sessions. Of course, so did a few escorts and pimps, dealers and criminals. Rooms that weren't bugged and could be rented with a credstick and no real names were always an excellent commodity.

Jeeves was the earliest, booking the room and waiting for the other two to arrive as he set up a small digital map on the lone table in the room, sitting at one of the five chairs. He'd asked for a furnished study room, and this was sufficient. Fong and Hel arrived on time, both smiling and walking in, Hel with earbuds in, Fong whistling as he entered.

The elf waved at the man in the perfect suit. “Jeeves, buddy. Nice spot to hang, I dig it. Privacy's a plus. Could use some catering, though,” he rolled his shoulders as if stretching.

“At least no one will try to murder you the  way out of the building. Don’t go two blocks north, though. Humanis goons like that area,” he said calmly as Hel shut the door behind her, removing her earbuds.

She coughed and looked at them. “Alright, so let's go over the final details. I've gotten us a nice little van—old exterminator's wagon. Hardly economic, but easy to fit a group and some cargo in. We park two blocks south,” she said as she pointed to the map. “I show up in uniform, and start using my drones to do a work-through of the building, ‘finding’ a plague rat corpse. Should be enough to scare everyone, then you two come in after I've 'called for back-up' which should take, like ten minutes, or so,” she nodded, releasing the air quotes she had made.  “Then, you guys come in, ask the maintenance guys for secondary keys so you can find the nest, then order a building evac for people's safety.”

Fong smirked. “Even if you've got a uniform in my size, can I hide the armor under it somehow?”

She shook her head. “You can put all your shit in a duffel bag, skinny. We can change after I accidentally break the security camera networks chasing an imaginary rat in with one of my drones. Didn't think the illustrious kung-fu master needed a lot of kit.”

Fong stroked his beard as mystically as possible. “Prepare for ten different battles, so you may win the one that occurs,” he said with a wink. “Or, barring that, bring a bug-out bag, an assistant with great legs, and enough nuyen to bribe your way out of hell. Although, if we had that last one, I suppose we wouldn't be doing this...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Jeeves nodded. “Zen routine aside, I appreciate the idea of preparation. I'll keep my kit in a bag as well. I'm assuming we'll need a second car, to arrive in?”

Hel put a hand behind her head. “Yeah, but I could only get the one. Showing up in a beat-up truck should be fine, as long as everyone thinks you came when I called to help out.”

Fong nodded. “Yeah, we came in on our day off because you needed the extra manpower,” Fong said, flexing his muscles and snickering.

Hel thumped him in the shoulder. “Yeah, you can carry my lunch money, slim” she sniggered. “Sorry, Mr. Fong. You just look more like a reed than a pillar, you know?”

Fong winked. “When standing erect, I can hold up a roof. And when I start swinging, I can bring down the house!” He laughed.

“Focus,” Jeeves said sternly. “So, after we've shut down the security, we move in to seize the box. Are you prepared to assense the area, Mr. Fong?”

Fong steepled his fingers together in the sort of pyramid formation used by vague mystics and Sorcerous Trideo villains. “I can attune my third eye in due time. As Hel's drones map out the building, I can allow my spirit to hit the astral. Even if the box isn't magic, it should have enough emotion tied to it to stand out like a bonfire in a place as....well, shallow as a Horizon storage facility.”

Jeeves nodded. “I suppose that makes sense, as much as any magic does,” he mused dryly.

“Was that a joke, Jeeves? Glad to see you've got it in you,” Hel said as she took a drag from her e-cig. She blew out a small orange smoke ring.

Jeeves just adjusted his glasses. “I have my moments, after all,” he said with the tiniest of smirks. “So, are there other questions?”

Fong raised a hand. “Yeah, one thing's bugging me. You said you cased the joint, and the mundane security seemed pretty minimal. But knowing what's in that box—it's gotta be more than that. This isn't a question, I guess. Just a word of caution. If the Brotherhood of Wu is hiring us, they're expecting something they haven't got the man-power to deal with. Or, they tried already and failed. Either way we should gird ourselves with wisdom as much as stolen uniforms.”

Hel frowned. “Were you part of this Wu thing? You seem to know their methods by heart.”

Fong waved dismissively. “If I said yes, would you simply nod and let it go?”

“That is definitely not an answer,” Hel said with a rolling of her eyes. “The truth is that you don't want to meet them, but you're okay with helping them with their drekshow. Why?”

Fong grinned. “A wise man controls the pieces, a genius controls the board.”

Jeeves shook his head. “Fong's relationship with our employer is unimportant, provided we complete the mission and receive payment.”

Fong shrugged. “I assure you, if anyone tries to kill us in a way that makes my tragic history matter, I will happily address it.”

Hel grimaced. “I don't like flying that fucking blind, Mr. Fong. Why can't you give a little here?”

Fong nodded. “Hel, I don't know anything about either of you two—I only volunteered what I thought would help. I don't even know what Jeeves is actually capable of. The crappy part of the shadows is that we've all got secrets. And some of them are risky to share with other professional criminals you just met. You done now? Or do you wanna push out your only Mystic back-up because he's hiding something under his glorious beard?”

Jeeves stood up, his voice sharp and pronounced before Hel could retort. “That's enough. Mr. Fong's made his point. We don't trust each other, not yet. That's fine. Tonight, we work. If we still don't trust each other tomorrow, we'll address it. Or, we'll avoid working together again.”

Hel gritted her teeth. “Fine, keep up the cryptic bullshit. Just make sure we don't get geeked because you're feeling tight-lipped.”

Fong shook his head. “If anyone knows who I am during this mission, then our employer has severely misrepresented the truth, and we should bug right the hell out, likely after I hurt a few people,” the elf rose slowly from his seat.“But, I'm not expecting any old friends to show up to this one. That being said, I've brought some party favors and talismans in case. It never hurts to be prepared for a betrayal, or a sudden reversal of fortunes.”

Hel nodded. “Yeah, I'm bringing a full kit in, just in case things go weird.”

Mr. Fong nodded to Jeeves. “And what about you, our well-dressed leader? I'm assuming you've got more than just style up your sleeve?”

Jeeves shrugged. “I'm prepared for the worst. Like you, I'll demonstrate when it becomes necessary. However, if we're lucky, I won't need to go all out,” he said with a nod.

Mr. Fong nodded. “Yeah,we go in quiet, and only go loud if this all goes to hell. Which it might, but hopefully not. Still, we should all pack heat, and like I said, I'll let you know if anything hokey, magic or otherwise, is gunning for us. So any other important steps? Aside from saying our prayers and eating some lunch?”

Hel snorted. “Do we look like the praying type, Mr. Fong?”

The strange elf stroked his beard. “This world has a million spirits, at the very least. How am I to know from whom you seek succor? At least, not until we've gotten some drinks.”

Hel shook her head. “You full of this much bullshit naturally, or did you have to learn it?”

Fong smiled warmly. “I have a quote-a-day calendar. 'Zen for guys with fancy beards.' I think it's on the Morinobu app store....” He laughed a little.

Hel simply nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Jeeves, you can drive a stick? I've got a idea on who we can get a truck from.”

“I'll manage,” the man in the suit said, checking his lapels in a mirror absentmindedly. They were perfectly straight, but some habits were a constant, even in the shadows, where chaos was a state of being.

“Then it appears we have a plan, with a few contingencies if it goes poorly,” Fong grinned. “That's definitely an excellent start.”