The Tiger in the Bushes [OPEN]

The first thing Jardin noticed as he passed into the portal was not the size of the the room. Nor was it the exquisite-ness of the marble structures and crystalline chandeliers. It was not the food. It was not even the odd, insectoid giants that now stared at the newcomers.

The first thing his mind focused on was the feeling of his own stomach turning inside out...

He did not speak as the magician pulled him into a poorly choreographed dance, lest the liquor from earlier end up on Rune's shoes as soon as he openned his mouth.

Why? Why of all things did translocation make him sick? Planes, trains and automobiles were one thing. But teleporting?

His stomach kept Jardin miserably unaware of his surroundings. He did what he could to keep up with Rune's jarring motions but he had to trust the older man for now.

Rune wasn't sure what he expected. The threshold was always a wild alchemy of danger and desperate motion. But he had though the dexterous youth would have picked up right away. He expected that the grace of minutes past would have them waltzing across the marble flooring like swans on ice, well a swan and a duck.

But the look on the young man's face was in the ballpark of whirly-gig, fairgrounds nausea and he moved about as well as Rune himself. Could nothing ever be easy? Could we never have nice things?

Ah one two three, ah one two three. He counted out under his breath, a rhythmic a prayer. Step, swing, step, step around. Was that the upbeat? Wait, was I on one or two... hoboy.

The creatures watched them wobble back and forth in what must have seemed an obscene pantomime of their native steps. Something vibrated on their backs, long ripples fluttered down Gowns and Robes, wings perhaps. Their arm-blades gleamed in the drifting lights of the high chandeliers.

He swung them around, exaggerating the movements; gripped hands up in the air and then down toward the floor, big step, big step. You never seen anything like this you buncha bugs. Just try to get a handle on it ladies and gents, just keep figuring it out. Ah one, two...something.

The ghostly fire beyond the veil wavered like an undersea creature, like sunlight through the waves and the dark figures just catching like so much wet kindling waved back and forth, weeds long overdue all projected and nearly lost in the strange perspective of overlapping worlds.

First one and then another creature scuttled aside as Rune and Jarden bulled through, china shop style. Crab legs clicking on the flooring, they drew back their blades as if loath to touch the dancing creatures so strange yet with movements familiar enough to be horrific.

But if luck was a lady, she had more than two legs. Several of the Gowns closest to the coruscating opening of Rune's spell leaned into motion. Easy enough to see who wore the blades in these families. The Robes stepped back while more tall Gowns brush-broomed forward sweeping their scythe bladed forelegs up and out, clicking among themselves, no longer impressed.

Rune felt the familiar sting of seeing what you should have done by virtue of not doing it. He had been so busy counting and trying to fit into the eerie glass-on-glass waltz, he had no idea where he was in relation to the world, his world. Was he far enough away? Was it clear? He could barely see anything through the spell.

The oncoming ladies of vivisection looked hungry, hurrying, blades snapping, impatient for the kill, satin fluttering over armored carapaces. Bulbous eyes locked onto him and Jardin, and - not for the first time - Rune considered the luxury of moments like these, the simplicity. A binary choice of chances. Mix it up with the chop sisters or drop back into the world and hope he didn't find himself skewered by decking or sporting a lounge chair though his skeleton.

The dizzy flop still in Jardin's limbs solved for X and he spun the young man left while he stepped right looking the Gowns right in their twitchy faces. Then he let Jardin go and clapped his hands together. The world popped like a bubble.

Humid swamp air rushed in at them heavy with the scent of rot and mud. Bugs hummed and sang and frogs screamed from the night black treeline. Gnarled clouds knuckled high over them heavy with the empty promise of more rain. They fell three feet into the swamp.

Waist high water as dark as the sky splashed and tried to swallowed them up as they hit it. The silty mud sucked at their shoes and dampness ran rampant in an instant. Rune huffed with the surprise of the cool shock and held his hands out for stability in the gentle chop, rebound from the far off cypresses.

The bar was engulfed. Up there, back from the boardwalk, tar black smoke boiled out from the broken window and the unscreened doorway. Fire rolled in its heart like a fierce unbreakable jewel. The smoke raced upward in ballooning boughs, gusting up to join the clouds, rushing back into the palm of the clotted sky.  

He raked a hand over his face and tried to head-shake away the jitter of too many near misses. Nothing else moved in the inferno of the bar.

The thief felt himself pitched aside. Jardin was still only barely aware of the situation as Rune did...something.

Suddenly, reality shifted once more and for an instant, he felt weightless. Then he hit the ugly waters of the wetland. There was a brief flurry of motion as Jardin tried to get his feet under himself. It took longer than it should have and the meta promptly pitched forward, spraying half digested scotch into the murk. B-E-A-utiful.

Finally, Jardin started to feel better and waded closer to Rune as the mage watched Everet's pyre. After a pause, he muttered, "We staying here till the fire burns out? Then checking the bar to see if it's done? That the plan?" The thief's attention was on the smoke as well.

Then came an odd feeling, one that Jardin could not place. He shifted his stance in the waist high water as he thought. Then it came to him. Without looking from the column of black, Jardin said, "I lost my shoe..." It was difficult to place his tone as he spoke.

Rune watched the fire for a moment letting the sounds of the night wash over him. He shook his head and let the shoe comment float right on by.

“Nope. This where we part ways kid. Any marks in that bar are going up with the bar, nothings coming out. If he were smart he would have left something out here to jump into but…” Rune trailed off tasting the air with that delicate inner antennae that sought out magic; never more than a feeling but it was easily as good as even odds, whatever those were.

“But I don’t think Ev was all that smart there at the end. I think he bet it all and came up aces and eights.” Then he cut his eyes to the bedraggled young man.

“Not for nothing, but you made really the difference in there. I am guessing you are not the question answering type but in a your-mileage-may-vary kind of way I owe you one.”

He turned and held his scarred hand out. “Names Rune, Rune Vigil. I answer to Rune, Hey you and occasionally Who Did This. Bad beat to drag you through all this, but I think you came out alright all things considered.”

A fresh spout of fire leapt up into the black smoke column and bright embers flitted upward like fireflies free at last.

Jardin stood a moment, unmoving as fire errupted from the bar, surging skyward.  Then, the thief turned, swamp making an irritating "slurp" as he stepped.  He clasped the mage's hand and shook.

"I'm Dor-"  The lie stopped abruptly and the youth shook his head.  Throwing away his usual caution, he truly introduced himself.  "I'm Cory Jardin.  Thief, grifter, liar and sometimes dabbler in heroism."

Taking his hand back, Jardin ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face.  "It's weird using my real name.  I haven't said it in almost two years.  I usually give people aliases."  The thief chuckled inwardly before continuing.  "But, if you ever need help again in the future, I probably wouldn't mind lending a hand again..."  Jardin turned to the nearest shore at the edge of the swamp and began wading out.  "I'm sure you got something up your sleeve that can find people, right?"

Rune followed Cory step by step, arms out wide, wheeling them back and forth with each syrupy stride. The dark waters tugged at his coat dragging it this way and that, sliding it aside to reveal the hungry firearm in its glyphed holster, and then draping it away. Even imprisoned it seemed something feral, the dark grip waiting silent and ready.

“Maybe.” Wary. “I got some pretty fancy sleeves. You looking for someone in particular?” It was not easy to play it cool with swamp water lapping around your crotch and a structure fire blazing to starboard. Or at least Rune certainly didn't make it look easy.

At first, Jardin thought to correct Rune by explaining he had meant himself.  But then, standing at the edge of the swamp, he thought of a way Rune might be able to help him.

Turning Jardin said, "I have a sort of private project in the works.  Vigilante that might be operating out of Los Angeles.  All I know about him for sure is that he calls himself 'Humanity.'"  Taking a seat, the thief struggled to remove his one water-logged shoe before throwing it back into the swamp to find its mate.  "Been looking for leads for a couple months but nothing led anywhere."

Fluttering a hand in front of him as though the idea was a fly to be scared away, Jardin added, "There's no hurry on this yet.  Just something to think over for now."  Brushing a damp hair from his forhead, Jardin was quiet for a while.

Then came the obvious question: "You have a prefered way to get in touch with people?"

Briny water streamed off Rune's belt and pants. Whatever his shoes were before they were solid clay mud now but he made no move to remove them but juts gave his coat a flap from the lapels sending a fresh sluice of swamp from the tail. The coats white linnen guts poked through its many holes and tears now.

“Yeah, privately.” He said with a half grin and then shook it off.

“City of Angels huh, yeah I can help most likely or I can find someone who will. And I do owe you a...” then it hit him that he had the only bar in miles torched. He visibly resisted the urge to turn his head, briefly clenching his eyes at the effort. The flames crackled audibly in the evening and the frogs howled on, oblivious.

“You will get a call with a number. Not my number but it will get my attention all the same. You just let me know and I'll be there... you know... ” he hooked a thumb back over his shoulder at the rising column of smoke.

“unless something happens.”

Jardin glanced over his shoulder at the blackened skyline. Truthfully, it did not hurt him. He wasn't big on hard liquor; it was all burn and no flavor to him. He said as much. "Trade-off of my healing factor is I can't get drunk." He shugged, not really bothered by it.

"Anyway, you need a number to call." The thief gave Rune the number to a cheap burner phone, untraceable and replaceable, a must in his business. "Just make sure I get the number soon. I replace it at the end of the month."

Jardin pushed himself upright. "Welp, I better be going. You can owe me a...beer or something." Nothing else to say, the thief began to take his leave.

Still, this was Jardin's first experience wih actual magic. He found himself curious about the phenomenon and wondered if he could find some use for it, himself.