Fortune Favours The Fey

Flick sat at the counter of O'Malley's pub, sipping from a dram of Scotch Whisky. The mercenary didn't much like straight whisky, but that almost made it better at distracting him from his recent bitterness. On the television in the background, the Scotsman's soccer team were contesting a hard fought encounter against their nearest rivals. Flick barely reacted as his side scored, instead taking a miserable drink.

"What's with you, fella? Normally you'd go off your marbles when they get a late winner," Queried Jim, the owner.

"Eh, barely matters. They're gonnae win the league anyway, aye?" Flick replied with a melancholic shrug.

"Yeah well," The barman shifted his weight, not sure how to respond. "There's a fella who wants a word witcha, in the pool hall. You know. Wants your skills. Goes by the name 'The Fey'." Flick set his glass down in response, a new burst of energy filling him. Work was the best distraction, and Jim was always good at finding him some.

Walking around the corner into the pool hall, Flick halted as he seen the bizarre figure. A man sat down lazily, with dark green skin, small antlers and a bodybuilders muscle tones. Moreover, he has a sword at his side.



"Good afternoon to ya, mate," spoke the Fey, with a thick Donegal accent.

"Eh, hi. How can I help ye?" replied Flick, unable to avoid eyeing the otherworldly man's antlers.

"I need ta get meself into a certain museum. One that I understand you know intimately." The Irishman replied, standing up to his full height of 6'9". His eyes were a fiery orange, with a light behind them.

"... aye? I know a few routes in. It'll cost ye, though." Flick said, his voice slightly deeper as if in challenge to his height shortfall. At 6'1" in his non shrunk state, the Scotsman was dwarfed by the giant Irishman.

"Trust a fuckin' Jock to get roight to the fuckin' money!" The Fey barked a hearty laugh. "I'll give you a pot of gold if he ye help a Paddy out, mate."

Flick rolled his eyes. "Give me it now, hard cash, and we've a deal."

The Fey's nose contorted at the dour response. "You Scots are no fuckin' fun. Alright, I'll give you it now, but you've gotta invite me in there. I can't be followin' you inside. You've gotta open the door and ask me in."

Flick peered at the Irishman with curiosity, "Why?"

The Fey grinned, showing off sharp yellow incisors.

______________________________________________________


Flick usually got on with Irishmen, but this guy was weird. Not in an eccentric way, rather more in the inhuman sense. Like an animal wearing clothes and doing all that he could not to rip them off and run into the wilderness, howling as he went.

The mercenary knew this museum like the back of his hand, by now. Getting inside, switching off the security cameras and locking the guard in the bathroom weren't problems. In fact, the whole escapade was going very well. The Fly on the Wall activated his new jet packs and flew to the back entrance, where Fearghal The Fey was waiting patiently.

Opening the door, Flick regarded the Irishman with scrutiny. "Ye really cannae come in, unless I invite ye?"

"Aye," he replied, agitated and eager to enter. "Now I've paid you, let me in, Jock."

"As you are. Please do come in, Fearghal the Fey. I hereby invite ye." Flick grinned at his overly formal invitation. The Fey didn't much care, barging passed and storming towards an exhibit on ancient Gaels. Carved runestones, jewellery, weapons and fabrics were all on display from under a banner labelled; "The KIngdom of Dál Riada."

Flick's curiosity got the better of him. He followed the Irishman into the exhibit. The Fey knew exactly what he wanted and waded directly towards it, almost as if he could feel its presence. It was the head carving of an old Chieftain, wearing a simple silver circlet set with a purple gemstone.



"It's mine, FINALLY!" He yelled, unable to contain himself as he got close.

A few nights in New York City for school helped Danny find a reason to sneak away from the rest of the cheerleading crew in from Stanford. While the activity always found a place in Danny's life, her responsibilities with curating most of the Tamamoa stakes- and with being a superheroine most days, began to eat up the once already full life of the over achiever. Making the flight all the way from California to New York City never failed to live up to just how bad someone would assume a cross country flight would be. Same with the feeling of jet lag everyone would have while trying to make plans for where to eat once they landed and headed up to Manhattan.

Danny fit in just well with getting something to eat, but knew she would need to blow off any team activities beyond that. Her trustee partner in anti-crime could handle most of that. Well, some of that. Tsukimi did always keep to her code about not lying and just telling people the truth, but Danny wanted to see if she could just avoid it by sneaking out once the team made it to the bus, and then slip back in when everyone made it back. Really a perfect plan.

Wearing her black jacket with a Stanford tree on the lapel with her cheerleading skirt sticking out the bottom, Danny made sure the lanyard with her credentials for entering a museum after closing hours remained visible in case anyone asked. After hopping a cab down to the Metropolitan, the first parts of her plan looked like they were doing just fine. She swiped her ID badge through the reader, prompting a click in the large metal door. A cold blast of AC rushed out into the sticky autumn night.

A few weeks ago, Danny's parents made a large find of Gaelic artifacts. Like normal, they found their way in a crate, shipped to Stanford, and after a short, but confrontational talk with Bliss, they- and the other artifacts Bliss was 'holding onto', found their home in New York. The exhibit looked just fine in the low glow coming from the few lights remaining on after closing time. The culture and history of the artifacts completely phased by Danny. A quick talk with her bracelet might discover something about these guys, but for now, Danny just wanted to do a quick inventory- and of course get back in time.

Her phone opened up to the PDF reader, listing each of the items by their serial number and a placement map of where everything needed to go. Walking past the tapestries, Danny checked them off her list. Pottery and tools all looked to be in order, as did the weapons making up half of a wall. Check marks filled her screen as she continued down the line.

A squeak from her shoes clashed with the linoleum tiles as she pivoted towards the jewelry, but her squeak lived on. A pair of footsteps made their way towards the exhibit hall. Jumping right into a confrontation never went well, so Danny decided to gather a little information. Skittering behind a tapestry, Danny created a row of turquoise base plates at the bottom of each tapestry, allowing her to hide her shoes, while also not drawing attention to a single tapestry.

Neither man spoke, but poking her head out, Danny got enough of a look at Fey to trigger her creep sense. Sneaking back out, with a little bit of a hurried step of course, Danny moved towards the end of the hall as Fey extended up the steps. A turquoise cage would appear around Fey, keeping him obtaining the circlet. "Why can't I come to this museum just once, and not see a robbery take place?"

Flick blinked as the cage formed around the Fey. He recognised that light, from his last night at the museum. That lassie again. Is the other one here?! Flick looked around, panicking mildly as he recalled the battle.

The Fey halted in his tracks, putting his hands on the turqoise bars and squeezing in brief confusion. The Irishman grinned wolfishly to Danny, looking at her with feral, fiery eyes. "Listen little Belle," he began, gripping the handle of his ancient cold iron sword, "You can't rob what is yours by fuckin' right!" He yelled, spinning and shattering the construct with a powerful sweep of his blade. "Don't get in me way again," he warned through bared yellow fangs before turning to the circlet once more. The Fey reached out a hand.

Flick grimaced, turning to look at Danny. He shook his head. Don't...

From behind the man merely looked slightly at odds with reality, but once he turned, showed his yellow eyes, and spoke his claim, Danny knew she did not stumble on a mere heist- but a reclamation. "I'm guessing you lost that because you weren't exactly doing great things with it, so I think I'm going to just leave you in that cage for now, and then-"

Her words fell under the weight of the massive sword sundering her bars. They disappeared just as quickly as they emerged, but Danny did not let her resolve disappear. Very rarely did plan A work anyways. But, now she really hoped Plan B would work. "Listen ,we both know I'm in this for the long haul." Danny turned her glance over to Flick, narrowed her eyes at his inaction, then went back to Fey. "Maybe you and your sword could use some bonding time." Turquoise bars would wrap around his wrists, trying to keep the swing of his sword from flowing with full accuracy.

While he kept his grip on the blade, Danny knew getting close would be a mistake, especially after her just tore through her bars with such ease. A crossbow emerged against her arm, giving her some distance between Fey and her form. She shifted towards the side of the room to keep safety between herself and Flick. He had not raised arms against her, but he did seem to wish for more cooperation with Fey than with her. "Haven't I seen you before? Wait, wasn't it- oh it doesn't matter. Last chance, give up and this can all end nicely."

The Fey groaned as his reach was halted by the appearance of more bars, this time around his wrists. He leaned his head back and spoke to some higher power, a mix of anger and snideness in his tone. "In the name of fuckin' Balor. Jock, get fuckin' rid of her."

"Ye ain't paying me for that. I'll pass." Flick said, warily. "Just let him take it, lassie. There's nae need for a fight, here. We can all walk away. Just let him take his wee crown, aye?"

The Irishman grinned, "A Jock who doesn't like ta foight. Fuckin' glorious, that," He sneered, turning to Danny. Emerald faerie fire began to surround The Fey's form, his dark essence rippling from his flesh as he bulked up. He began to run at Danny, shoulder first and snarling, whilst pulling at the constructs binding his arms.

"I guess you're fuckin' MINE then!"

"Fearghal, give her a chance---!" The Scotsman called, but to no avail as the Irishman continued his charge towards her. The Fey's form became more bestial, with hair growing, muscles expanding and clothes tearing. He kept a grip of his sword.

Plan B worked. It made Fey angry and added a minor stop to him. It did provoke the immediate need of a plan C in order to continue on the pathway of progressing towards there being a well deserved end. As Fey spoke the name of whom Danny assumed was his deity, he called on his partner to take care of Danny. "Oh, so you're his goon. Makes sense. You really put off a goon feeling."

Danny raised her crossbow to prepare for what move Flick would make. But, then Flick merely resorted to peacekeeping. "You've got some smarts for being a goon, but do you really think I'm letting this guy walk out of here with a circlet he stole from my parents so he can do whatever weird magic stuff he has in New York City? I mean, he has antlers, and even though I don't want to judge all people with antlers as evil, this guy is really not helping the case counter to my point."

Once Flick stood down, Fey took center stage.

"Now he's on fire." Once Fey took to his charge, Danny shifted her crossbow for a large turquoise spear. She rubbed her bracelet, pulling in the fighting style of a Spartan and let her spear fly towards Fey. She wanted him to slash it in twain. Mostly, because she wanted his sword out of place. Once the spear left her hand, she conjured up a short sword. Meeting him in his charge, Danny would barrel roll in the absent point of his sword, swinging for his leg with one cut from her blade.

Even just in passing with the fire, Danny could feel it swell up in her jacket. A drip of sweat coursed from her brow down to lips. She quickly tied her hair up and prepared for what the second assault Fey would bring on her.

Fearghal the Fey duly battered the spear out of the air with his sword using unnatural reflexes. The Fey winced as Danny's construct blade sliced into his thick leg. The bestial creature snarled in annoyance.

The Irishman turned towards Danny and began a vicious assault, swinging with both his antlers and his blade in a series of powerful, wild strikes. His initial plan was to overwhelm her with sheer brute force, but Danny's expertise would likely frustrate those efforts.

After a few rampaging seconds and missed attacks, The Fey left himself open through an over-extended swing. This was Danny's chance! Right?

The snarl from Fey let Danny know she did her job correctly. Now, how many more of these slices would it take to bring down the beast? Throwing another spear could work to bring his sword down, but he would probably guard his weak points against another finesse attack from Danny. Or, maybe it would not matter as the creature charged her with every bit of fury he could manage.

No time to throw a spear. Danny fell back on her feet, giving up room to his savage attacks as she created a number of turquoise steps to run up, leaping from step to step. Eventually she managed to get behind Fey, pelting him in the back with a crossbow bolt as she leaped towards the floor, catching herself on the shoulder and tumbling away. Cheerleading once again proved just as important to fighting as channeling a Spartan warrior.

Once she divided enough of Fey's attention, she conjured two blades in her and a wall behind Fey. She dove forward with both blades, hoping to exploit the weakness set up by her maneuver and incapacitate her foe.

Flicked blinked as Danny took down the monster that The Fey had become, shocked by the quick and brutal fight. He took a step forward, unsure about what to do.

The Fey's monstrous form erupted in green flame as the two blades penetrated his shoulders. His eyes were molten in anger, yet despite his fury, his body began to turn to dust and ash. As Danny reacted to her sudden destruction, the shadowy form of Fheargal the Fey appeared behind her.

In his original, less monstrous form, the Irishman swung the flat side of his cold iron sword for the side of the unsuspecting Danny's head. The young woman collapses onto her side, out of it.

"You can't trick the original fuckin' trickster, girly," He grinned malevolently, turning the blade in his hands and preparing to stab it through the unconscious woman.

"Fearghal, she's beaten!" Shouted Flick, as he dashed towards Danny and the Fey, wide eyed.

The Fey smirked, "Let's make it a permanant fuckin' arrangement." He said, a forked, snake-like tongue slipping through his fangs and swung downwards.

Flick kicked his jets into gear and bulleted straight into the Irishman, charging with him into the wooden museum wall. The mercenary stood up and staggered away from the splintered wood and downed Irishman.

"Just take yer fucking crown. She's not a threat now." Flick demanded, raising his wrist mounted blasters.

"So Braveheart finds his fuckin' balls, eh?" The green skinned man said with amusement, standing up and spitting a drop of black blood. The Fey cracked his neck to the side, fire forming in his hands. "I hate fucking Jocks. You really are a turncloak -fuck-."

Flick glowered angrily as the fight between the two celtic cousins commenced. Initially the Scotsman did well, his energy blasts and jetpack piloting proving to be better than the Irishman's fireballs and acrobatics. However, that all changed when The Fey decided to enter melee combat.

Leaping up into the air and onto Flick's chest, knees first, the Irishman smashed him to the ground and unleashed a furious assault upon his armoured foe. Although his helmet had cracked, the sellsword's power armour stood up to the clenched fists of the green powerhouse well. He was mostly unharmed.

The Fey glowered down at the stunned hireling, then stood up. "You can take a hit, I'll grant you. But you're dealing with the elements here, sunshine. I ain't just fire and muscle."

And with that, Fearghal pointed a hand towards Flick and began draining an arc of electricity from his belt's battery. The Mercenary tried to point a wrist-blaster at the Fey and fire, but the green man kicked it away as he finished his task.

"There ain't much energy left for me to take. You were running low, sunshine," The Feye smirked as Flick shrank to his diminutive, 'true' height of 1.5 inches. The electricity surrounded his emerald body, healing his wounds.

The Irishman ignored the tiny Scotsman from then on, as he returned to Danny and bound her hands in a pair of standard handcuffs before claiming his crown.

When she woke up, he'd be gone.

The puncture into the shoulder filled Danny with resolve. It took a moment, but Danny did finally manage to strike the final blow to her foe. Or, at least as it disappeared in dust she believed so. Once the dust settled around, a brush of flame touched her ear. Then the blunt of a blade touched the back of her head.

When Danny woke up, she tried pulling her hand up to the side of her head, only to feel cold metal push back against her wrist. She swung her leg out to balance herself as she rose to her knees, still cuffed from behind. Leaning her chin over her shoulder, she looked down to get a better view of her bindings. Nothing too difficult. After her fight she would assume the cuffs would be made of some kind of demon metal that burned with embers just by looking at it. Not the case this time though.

Using the chain to her advantage, Danny quickly got the bottom of her palm up towards the cuff and rubbed it enough to construct a pair of bolt cutters. The base of the cutters laid out wide enough for the cutters to remain planted on the floor. Danny then situated the chain between the teeth before using her posterior to press down on the handle, allowing the wedge to sever the chain.

Or at least she thought the sound of breaking metal happened with the chain. In actuality, the construct shattered trying to break the chain. Danny fell on her back, looking up to the ceiling and slowly lowering her eyes to the missing circlet display. "That can be the second thing I worry about." Standing to her feet came easy enough for Danny to go onto her next job: finding her phone. "God, I really hope security don't find me like this."

Flick stood up with a wobble, taking his helmet off and rubbing his bruised head. He spotted Danny getting to her feet and speaking to herself as she assessed the situation.

The mercenary considered his options, but the fact was, he needed his suit recharged. Besides, he knew where the Irishman was. That was a fair trade, right?

"Oi! Lassie! Down here!" He shouted, approaching Danny.

Danny looked around the room once she heard something shuffling. Did the ghosts in this room want to talk with her about surrendering the circlet? Or did they need to offer her some advice about this creature? When the voice finally came through with a clear 'hello', Danny looked down to see a very small man standing before her.

"You still here?" Danny leaned forward. "I'm guessing something went bad for you too and you're going to ask me not to squash you right now." The line of reasoning would not be completely out of the ordinary for this situation. It could even do enough to sway Danny in favor of keeping her foot off of him.

"Alright, well since you probably guess it, your boss has something that messes with my powers, so I can't get out of these things as easily as I should." Danny turned around and lowered herself down to the ground. She put her legs out in front of her and rested the handcuffs on the ground behind her. "If you're serious about me not stepping on you, get me out of these things."

"You'd be surprised at how resilient I am at this size," Flick quipped, unable to resist defending himself. He stepped around to the cuffs.

"He isnae my boss. He paid me to get him in here, there's a difference. A one off transaction. Now... I'll free you from these, and I'll even tell you where he is, but you need to help me power up my suit."

The mercenary reached into the cuffs, fiddling around with the interior of the lock mechanism. A moment later there was a click and, suddenly, they were loose.

"See?"

"I like surprises. Maybe you don't want to test me on trying out that resiliency since you're kind of the reason I'm like this right now." Danny sat still while Flick moved around and fiddled with the mechanism. It did not take long for him to locate the lever and give it a quick pull, releasing the cuffs around Danny's wrists. "Wanna tell me another surprise and give me the details about the guy you were working for?"

Danny reached down and picked up Flick, bringing him up to her face. "How do I even begin fixing your suit? I'm not a mechanic, but I guess I can make you tools."

The arrangement with Flick would come with some limitations, but the goal before them looked pretty straight forward, get the bad guy, save a world, maybe a few with how magic typically goes, and then be back in time to explain why you blew everyone off. "I was doing fine against that guy until he started using faerie magic, so after you tell me where he is, if you could let me know about that stuff, I'm sure I can settle the score with him and get that circlet back."

Flick grimaced as he kept his balance, literally manhandled.

"I only know so much. His name is Fearghal and he's not a human. He's some ancient spirit. That crown was his once, before some 'usurper' stole it from him," The mercenary explained. "He has weaknesses. He can't enter a building without being invited first. That stuff his sword is made of will fuck him up. That's all I've managed to gleam."

Flick perked up, "Oh, and he can use that crown to control others of his kind. He can get them from the 'hedge-wall', which he can summon in any big green area. All I can think of close by is Central Park."

The mercenary cleared his throat, stepping along Danny's palm and creating a small portion of extra distance away from her face if able. "Just get me to a live wire. This thing charges up on contact with electricity. It's good that way."