Chapter Four: Maxim Gregorovich

The other side of salvation was another chamber, and the side I’d come from held a dead guy and a torture dungeon (Or sex dungeon, whichever), so I kept on keeping on and got the fuck out of the basement. Walking up the stairs to the first door showed me that I wasn’t the first person Dorset had locked down there, various skulls in different stages of decay being impaled from neck to pate on metal stalagmites. The basement had been pretty dank and dark, but I almost missed it when I smelled rotting flesh and spoiled blood as it was everywhere around me. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off and was replaced by the drive to live past the situation I found myself in, as lethal as it seemed. Leering at my new surroundings showed me quite a few dead heads and a good number of doors that all lead to similar staircases to the one I’d climbed up. The third to last door I checked held a staircase going upward, so I hedged my bets and followed it to what I hoped would be a either a shower or a phone.

Much to my dismay, the cracked plaster of the walls and rusty metal of the new staircase just lead me to the next level of Hell, which turned out to be a warehouse. I assumed it was abandoned since there was like, no one there and I didn’t hear anyone when I exited the second staircase. With the scenario of possibly being murdered by something I couldn’t fight bashing its way to the forefront of my brain, I crept around the shadows I could keep myself to while I searched for an exit in the shadowy, lit up structure. It must have been day time outside since the light filtering in seemed to be daylight, but I didn’t want to assume just in case there were street-lamps outside breaking the doom and gloom. Instead I made sure to look around at the lower concrete and upper metal walls. There was no way for me to reach one of the high windows, so that plan was out. Even then, if I could’ve reached the windows, it might’ve been a longer fall off of the other side than it would’ve been on the inside, and the windows were already at least a story and a half high.

With that not being an option, I continued to skirt around the main floor of the warehouse and eventually found the door outside, though I doubted that it was the one that Dorset used as it had been pretty well stuck by some rust. As little as I wanted to stop and think once I got outside and into the murky, foggy darkness of the late, nearly moonless autumn night, I needed a plan since I had no way of communicating with someone and no way of knowing where I was. In the end, the result of my think-sesh was just to pick the brightest line of street-lamps and follow them them wherever they were willing to take me. Me being paranoid as hell and now infinitely more likely to stab someone for no logical reason, I stayed out of the light of the lamps and kept an ear out for anything that might have stuck out. Beyond the sounds of the abandoned industrial complex, as in rats and groaning metal, there wasn’t much to hear. Of course there was eerie background music in my head that wouldn’t go away, but no monster or psycho to run from in sight. It was a little disorienting.

There were definitely chills running up and down my spine as I exited the main gate from the area, not once looking back after I crossed the threshold of the place that had very nearly been my final destination. I just wanted to get home and find someone to hold me for a little bit so I could get a little sleep, but I doubted that my night was going to end so pleasantly. It didn’t take long for my walk along the barely-lit path to become tedious and arduous, my body aching for the caffeine I generally fed it twenty-four/seven. For the briefest of moments I took pleasure in the fact that I wasn’t addicted to anything other than caffeine and music, but the second I thought about my nearly soundless existence, I grew even more weary and just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Step after step, one foot in front of the other saw me in a ghetto that I’d rather have not been in, but it still seemed better than getting tortured to death. As I walked, I got a couple of hollers from some fools with nothing better to do, but I paid them no mind and kept going until one of the frick-faces decides to rush me. Apparently he thought better when he saw that pretty much my entire shirt, arms, and a good portion of my face were all still covered in blood. Then the guy actually got really nice and lended me the biggest helping hand I could have asked for at the moment: A shower, something I won’t mention, and some of his Aunt’s home cooking. Nick the Dick (His words, not mine) and his friend Ty were both cooler than the Popsicle Man and both were ungodly at Black Ops, but I was mostly worried about the fact that I was basically on the opposite side of town as to Curtis.

Ty offered me a ride for some gas money, so I borrowed his phone and used my bank app to send him twenty for gas and fifteen for expenses since the dude had been nice enough to just give me one of his own shirts to wear so I didn’t walk around looking like I’d ‘gone and caught a fuckin’ body’, or whatever it was that he said. I understood what he said, don’t get me wrong, I just can’t remember what exactly it was. After a dose of herbal sleeping medicine, Nick negotiated with his girlfriend to let me crash on his couch, which was comfy. I got a solid eight hours of sleep and woke up disoriented and halfway out of my mind, as evidenced by the unflattering video Mikayla, Nick’s girlfriend, got of me flailing about while twisted up in some blankets. I took the laughs as they came since perspective had taught me that there were worse things in life than to be laughed at. After all, I even got a chuckle out of watching the video when I disassociated and thought of the man in the video as someone else.

Around noon, Ty gave me a ride back to The House, so I gave him a couple pieces of my knife collection and a cup of Kona as thanks. Having made a couple new friends after losing one of the coolest professors on campus, I went into the living room for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long and just sat down. I knew that I’d had work earlier and that I should’ve been at school, but I just needed time to decompress and process what the bloody hell had just happened. I’d been assaulted and kidnapped by one of my all-time favorite teachers, nearly tortured, killed a guy to death and a half, escaped confinement, walked through one of the worst areas of Philly and made friends. Now I was back home, my pants and shoes still covered in Dorset’s blood. It was all so… surreal, I suppose one could say. It was all a different beast, a different challenge than my mind was used to. Algorithms and matrices made sense. Scores and notes made sense. Murder and torture?

Not in my frickin’ life, no siree.

I don’t know how long I sat and spaced out, but it was long enough for Shelly to come, try and get my attention, and then successfully get it when she saw that I was still a little bloody from earlier. “Fuckin- Holy shit! Ladron, what the hell, dude? Are you okay!? The fuck!? You’re like-”

I shook my head to clear it and saw that Shelly and Logan were standing in front of me, concern and alarm painted clearly across both of their faces, invading their body language as well. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ believe the night I’ve had.”

“Night!?” Shelly asked in disbelief. “Dude, you’ve been AWOL for like, fifty hours at this point! Logan and I were just in the kitchen talking about calling the cops since you weren’t answering your phone and no one’s seen you since like, Tuesday!”

“Ah. Damn.”

Logan sat next to me slowly. “Ladron… Son, are you…?”

Shelly bit her thumbnail, a habit I’d never seen her take part in. “La-La… Are you using?”

I stared at her blankly. “Using what?”

She snorted and dropped her chin suddenly before throwing her head back for a laugh., “Aw hell, I can’t believe I just asked if you of all people were chasing the dragon!”

“Nah, but I did hit a blunt a couple times.”

“You what.”

For a long moment, I looked at my quasi-girlfriend and then traded my gaze to the man who was like an Uncle to me. Neither of them seemed like they would understand, but I didn’t want the burden of being a murderer to eat away at me, even if I was still a little shocked. “... Yeah. I kinda needed it to sleep.”

“Ladron…” Logan trailed off.

“Sweetie, what are you mixed up in?” Shelly interrogated, her tone firm.

“Torture. No, wait, murder. I didn’t get tortured, murdered someone so they wouldn’t torture me. Kind of freaking out about it now that I’m talking about it with people I actually give two shits about, holy shit.” I breathed, not having taken a breath for the entirety of the rambly sentence. “God damn!”

Shelly’s jaw dropped and she came to sit on my other side, putting her hand on my leg. “Sweetie… Did you kill Professor Dorset?”

“Is he missing?”

“Since afternoon yesterday. His wife called the school and there were some people asking around about him at school this morning…”

“Well, in my defense, he totally kidnapped me and had me ziptied to a sketchy chair in a sketchy basement with a pretty convincing table full of sharp metal shit that I doubt was stained in ketchup. Barbeque maybe, but not ketchup. Hell, if it was barbeque, then Dorset was full of barbeque sauce.”

Shelly covered her mouth. “Ladron…”

I felt Logan’s hand on my shoulder, so I turned to look at him, his face set in stone. “I knew Dorset pretty well. Any reason he might wanna do something like that, because that doesn’t sound like Larry.”

For a lifetime of a second, I wondered if I could tell Logan that I wasn’t completely sure why Dorset had turned on me, nor was I certain that I could tell him about the only hypothesis I had. Caution was my best bet, so I said, “I went to his class to talk to him and he said that we were on opposite sides.”

“What?” Shelly asked.

Logan raised his chin, his hand creeping into his pocket. “He say what he meant?”

“It’s complicated, but no. He basically just hit me with something that made it hurt to exist and I just passed out after a little bit. I don’t really know why.”

“Wait, so he attacked you first?” Shelly asked. “Dude, why didn’t you just go to the police?”

I pursed my lips off to the side. “... Because I’m still waiting to wake up.”

A loud thud and a heavy fist to the back of my head assured me that I wasn’t dreaming. “Wake up, buttercup.”

“Logan, what the hell!? Ladron just almost got kill-” Shelly started to argue, but before she could get her full steam, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. I assumed it had something to do with the odd song that was currently playing. I could hear ‘Rest now, sleep now, wait til dawn to kill the cow’, which was not encouraging.

I turned from Shelly to Logan and saw that he was glaring at me with a Derringer in his hand, pointed directly at the bridge of my nose. “Let’s take a walk, La-Loner.”

“Rather not.”

“I can clean you up in here or in the shed. I just don’t want to have to clean you off of Shelly.”

“... Man, I just want a nap. Can I take a nap before I die? Like, y’all been tryin’ to kill me for no fuckin’ reason-”

“What’s your Spirit?”

I had to think about that for a second, my mind not comprehending the question at first. “Um… An aminal?” The look he gave me jogged my memory rather quickly. More of a sprint, honestly. “IT was a fox. Definitely a fox.”

“And your legend?”

“Big ol’, buff white-haired grandpa in a red pimp-suit.”

Logan stared at me, then put his gun down. “Do you know who that is?”

“Not Santa, apparently.”

“That’s Gregorovich. Maxim Gregorovich.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Of course not, he’s an even more modern Legend than most. The fifth anniversary of his death was this year, around the end of Fall Break.”

“... What?”

Logan took a deep breath and stowed his mini-pistol. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Ladron. I’m sorry for the gun, I just needed to make sure that you weren’t… Well, Gregorovich has a history. A lot of modern Legends do.”

“... Okay, man, you’re gonna have to explain this whole ‘:Legend’ thing to me. Are you trying to say that people like fuckin’ Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny-”

“Not the rabbit, Jesus.”

“... Were you-”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I literally mean Jesus was a Legend. He was one of the most, if not the most, powerful healers of all time. The guy was the reason that cancer didn’t show up until the eighteen hundreds, and the thoroughness of his blessing kept AIDS at bay for even longer. Just imagine what damage a Legend like Stalin could do.”

I gave him an odd look. “Mother- Did you just compare Jesus Christ and Joseph Stalin?”

“I’m already going to hell for witchcraft, Ladron.”

“That’s a fair point, but still. What made Maxim-”

“Gregorovich. Don’t say his first name unless you want me to shoot you.”

“Damn.”

“I know it sounds harsh, but that guy was behind nine/eleven. And the nuclear meltdown in Japan. And shit, when he was young, Chernobyl. His teens? Sparked the Cold War and almost got the Cuban Missle Crisis off the ground. You wouldn’t believe just how much Gregorovich did in his life against the betterment of the world as a whole, and I know you aren’t aware, but it’s a holiday in the VF Circle now. That’s a part of the reason I threw that party last Sunday when everyone was back from Fall Break.”

“... Okay,” I said slowly, “so my Legend is one of the worst dudes to have existed in the past hundred years-”

“The reason I brought up Jesus was solely so I could call Gregorovich the Anti-Christ.”

“Bruh.”

Logan took an unnecessarily deep breath (From my perspective) and sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I should’ve warned you about Vaux Faker. I’m sorry, Ladron, I shouldn’t have let it get this far.”

“Right. Thanks for that, but what the frick does any of this mean, Logan? So my Legend is a bad guy. What of it?”

“Your Legend, the Patron of your magic, is the most evil man the world has known since Babylonian times. How does that not alarm you?”

“I don’t know what it means, for one.”

“You can’t use magic without it most likely causing collateral damage, Ladron. If you invoke Gregorovich’s power with the wrong song, you might end up killing yourself and everyone around you. That man is a nuke with a fucking visco fuse.”

“No wonder I should be dead. Too bad I like breathing.” I inhaled deeply to prove my point.

I earned a flat look for trying to bring some levity to the situation. “Son, I don’t know how to tell you this in any other way than that you might need to stop making music.”

“... What?”

“Have you made any Vaux Faker songs?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Yeah, on accident-”

“It wasn‘t an accident,” Logan sighed. “The power of a Legend shouldn’t be ignored. Someone like John Henry or Robin Hood would be no big deal, but Legends like Nero and Vlad the Impaler? They’re not generally happy with taking a backseat during your everyday life. I’ve seen people go insane from the backlash of their magic.”

“Because they didn’t know what they were doing?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then teach me, queer.”

He gave me a stern look .”It’s not that easy, Ladron.”

“I learn fast, and I refuse to stop making music. You can’t justifiably tell me to live a life without song, faglord.”

“I can, I will, and I might still shoot you.”

“Please don’t.”

He shrugged. “That’s more up to you than it is to me now. Either learn to live with never making another song or punch your ticket and get off the train.”:

“I choose Option C.” Which just so happened to be a quick chop to Logan throat so I could bolt, grab my car, and get into gear. I didn’t get shot at or anything, but it certainly did seem like a good time to go and get some new pants and shoes.

Instead of doing what I wanted to do, I went to the Police Station to file a report. However, apparently Nick’s Aunt had already filed a report on my behalf since there was apparently a warrant out for my arrest. Me ‘turning myself in’ meant that I got decent treatment, but the holding cell that they put me in before I could get booked kinda sucked. However, once my prints were printed and my name named in the books, I was taken to an interrogation room and given a small cup of shitty coffee for my patience. It took a good while for someone to show up, though I don’t exactly know the amount of time since I both neglected to ask and never managed to find a clock. The officer who came in to talk to me wasn’t even a detective or anything: just a run of the mill fellow that wanted to go home and have a cold one. How I knew that, I didn’t know, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to question it.

As the officer was explaining that I was basically free to go since the blood on my clothes didn’t even register as blood, he asked, “What tune is that you’re hummin’? Sounds real familiar.”

“Didn’t know I was humming.” I said, furrowing my brow. “Sorry, haven’t listened to music in a while.”

He scoffed. “That your thing or somethin’?”

‘

“Music? Yeah, can’t really go without it, so it makes sense.”

“Right. Still, you know the song?”

“Sorry, sir, can’t tell you the song if I don’t remember singing it.”

“Fair point. Y’know, you seem like a real good kid, Gadai. What had you convinced you killed someone?” The officer asked, curiosity outweighing concern on his face.

Once he freed my hands, I rubbed my wrists and said, “... I don’t know, to be honest with you. It felt like a dream when it was happening, and I remember everything like it was a bad dream, but… it seemed so real, I guess. It feels like a bad memory more than a dream.”

The friendly fellow put his hand on my shoulder and nodded. “... You wanna know what that red stuff was, Gadai?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Madder, Safflower, and a few other red dyes.”

“... Can I do a pee test?”

“That’s what we’re about to do, kid. Listen, whatever you want to tell me right now, I’m open. I’ve seen liars, cheats, murderers, and people who been backed into corners, and I think you think you’re tellin’ the truth. What really happened, Gadai? Where’d you go Tuesday afternoon?”

I looked that man dead in the eyes and said, “I went to my professor’s class after work and he used some kind of Jedi bullshit to drop me like a rock. I woke up about a day later in a basement, tied to a chair. I chewed my arms free, untied my legs, and grabbed something that I was probably gonna get tortured with and made a flail with my sock and some scrap metal. My professor came downstairs to the basement where he was keeping me, so I hid under the stairs and attacked from there. I stabbed him in the achilles before going at it with the sock. I blacked out for a little bit. Just kept swinging. I stopped when my arms hurt too much to do it anymore and I left the warehouse. Met some nice people. Got a shirt and some food. They gave me a lift back to my place. Figured I should come in and explain what happened before some unlucky fellow did, but I rather doubt anyone would check that part of town.”

The officer nodded a couple of times. “I’ve seen crazier shit, Gadai. I really have. It sounds like you might not want to hear what I have to say.”

“My butt doesn’t hurt though. And my mouth just tasted like morning breath.”

“Does Snoopy still work?”

“He never really got much exercise in the first place, so that wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Good, I guess,” He said awkwardly, patting my shoulder. “So… You’re Gregorovich’s new… Boy?”

“Do what now?”

The fellow frowned. “Don’t play dumb, kid. I know bullshit when I hear it. You’re among friends here at the station, believe me.”

I sighed like the weight on my shoulder had been lifted for a moment, then dropped back down on me from an unfortunate, cruel distance. “Sir, with all due respect I don’t know much about the guy. I just want to make music in peace, but it really doesn’t seem like that’s gonna happen.”

“... Holy shit, Logan wasn’t lyin’.” He cracked a smile. “Glad to hear that the Grand Ol’ Bastard ain’t in your head. I heard the last girl he was in ended up killing her family and jumping off of a bridge with her nephew in her arms”

My jaw dropped. “...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! That bitch was crazier than a fox anyway. That’s what happens when Fox Types get mixed with bad Legends.”

“...”

He stopped smiling. “... Fuck off.”

‘

“Maybe it’s an orange badger?”

“... It’s a red fox?”

“Yeah?”

The Officer rubbed his chin. “Hmm… We have an Auror slash Soothsayer here. He might be snootier than an anteater, but he’s good at what he does. I’m gonna leave you here, okay?”

“Can I have a bagel?” I asked.

“How’d you know we have bagels?”

“I didn’t, but I figured you guys like bread without centers. Uncrustables must be like silver to you guys.”

“Just for that, I’m dipping your bagel in water.”

“Aww, come on!”

“That’s what you get for being a smartalec.”

“Me love you long time~” I offered.

“Now you’re not getting one at all.”

“Tis better to have loved-” The look he gave me made me shut up.

While the officer was gone, I got up and stretched my legs as well as the rest of myself. Everything was aching at least a little, so it felt amazing to get it all loosened up. However, the next person to come in came right as I was stretching my hamstrings, so I bolted upright and nearly fell over. With my face flushing a little, I turned to see an auburn haired, middle-aged detective looking at me with little to no amusement in her raised brow. I raised a finger and inhaled in preparation to say something, but then she tilted her head forward ever so slightly, her tight bun keeping her hair from at all. The simple gesture made me shit up and sut down. Wait, no, I meant shut up and sit down. Yeah, that.

When I saw, she approached the table and made no move to take a seat for herself. “Do you know who I am, Gadai?”

“No ma’am.” I answered, trying to choose the wisest path.

“I’m Detective Winnfield. My father was Detective Jules Winnfield.” She waited for me to reply, but I had nothing to say to that. “No comment? Okay. Maybe you’ll be a little more understanding when I say that Gregorovich, your Legend, coerced Gina Hatter into killing her entire family, including extended relatives. Even one of the children.”

“I’m… Sorry? Ma’am?”

She narrowed her mahogany brown eyes at me, her warm, cinnamon complexion giving her stare another layer of heat. “No you’re not. It had nothing to do with you. Don’t lie to me.”

“Now I’m sorry.”

“Yes you are, and now I think I got a decent picture of you. You’re just some dumb mulatto-”

“The fuck are you then? Tex-Mex?”

“You high-yellow-”

“Hey, if you wanna bust out the racial stuff it can go both ways.”

She smiled. “Yeah, but you touch me and you get locked up.”

“You touch me and I find out how to ask Maxim for help.”

For the richness of her skin tone, she paled considerably. “Damn, you play hardball.”

“You threw the ball, I just gave it back.”

“Fair enough. You know you’ll be dead before you even get a spell started, right?”

“Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-DONG! Hark hear the bells, something as well!”

The look on her face was priceless. “... Why are we even worried about you?”

“I honestly don’t think y’all understand just how little I actually want to use magic. I just want to know about it. Same reason I study history, honestly: it’s just a thirst for knowledge.”

“Knowledge is power.” Detective Winnfield pointed out.

“No, electricity and oil are power. Knowledge is money.”

She got a laugh out of that. “Just don’t let the money talk for you, Gadai. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders.”

I shrugged. “I guess my parents only had a few marbles left over when they put me together.”

The Detective rolled her eyes. “So who’d you claim to kill?”

“Larry Dorset.”

“Mmm, I can understand why. He’s our custodian.”

“The fuck?”

“Yeah, the BBBCKFH Group-

“The what?”

“The Canadian/American Legend Alliance. CALA for international purposes.”

“It should be CALA in the first place,” she glared at me. “... Ma’am. What does the full acronym stand for, anyway?”

“Pecos Bill, Daniel Boone, Paul Bunyan, Davy Crockett, Billy the Kid, Mike Fink, and John Henry Group.”

“Dayum.”

“Damn is right. There’s a lot of Legends that all have different gifts to give, and your Legend has next to no gifts worth getting,” Detective Winnfield said resolutely

“Right.”

“Do you want to know who my Legend is?”

“Someone who didn’t like Gregorovich?”

“Fink. Brawler. His songs are telling me to beat you into a bloody pulp.”

“Damn. That’s… That’s rather unfortunate. Why are you being so bipolar?”

“Because that’s how Finks and Mongoose Types work. We’re the best in a brawl, and our intuition is impeccable.”

“And your intuition is telling you to kill me?”

“No, it’s telling me to punch you until you learn your lesson.”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“Yet.”

“Don’t say that! I lead a very quiet life!”

“Sure.”

“That’s offensive!”

“How so?”

“You expect me to get up to trouble just because of things I have no control over! That’s profiling!”

“Shut up, Gadai,” Winnfield barked.

“Yes ma’am.” I withheld any comments about how well I thought we were getting along.

“For the record, you smashed a golem. Dorset’s been dealt with for attacking you unprovoked, but don’t assume that means you’re safe. Next time you get into trouble, you better hope the laws on your side.”

“Ma’am, Detective, I never wanted any of this. I just thought I could fix broken records, or make grass grow a different color with music. I didn’t think it would get this hellish this fast. Honestly thought I’d have to make a lot more bad decisions to get this far.”

“Nope. You just have some really bad luck, Gadai.” She nodded and shrugged. “Still, you’re free to go in a few. You’ll be under Markkson’s custody until you graduate. Then from there, we’ll talk.”

I almost started nodding along until it registered in my mind. “Wait, you’re giving me a lifelong babysitter?”

“In essence.”

“Gross.”

“Deal with it.”

I raised a brow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to live,” She said frankly.

“Great. Now I have to deal with being a kid while being an adult. Whipee.”

She shrugged. “At least you’re not being tortured.”

“... That’s a very fair point.”

“Yes, yes it is. Take it easy, kid. It’ll get easier.”

For some reason I doubted that, but for the oddest of them all, I was convinced that I wasn’t done with the magical world of music. However, when my wallet and phone were returned to me, it was made clear that the police force would be looking for me to mess up at any given point in time. Knowing that I had watchful eyes waiting for me to slip up with the slightest move made me paranoid, and the general implication that I was going to have to make my music in secret made me even more anxious. There was little that could make me step out of line while I was being watched, and knowing that I was going to be watched for a long time meant that I prepared myself to settle in for a quiet life. Minus the quiet part, of course. There was nothing, no one, and no power that I knew of that would stay my hands from creating more music, but if that meant I had to go analog? Possible, just not preferred. As long as I could keep the music playing, then all would be well.

At least, that’s what I thought until my center console started buzzing on my way home from the station. I pulled over after a couple miles because it was consistently buzzing as if it were getting a call, but I figured that it would have stopped if it were a phone. When I got the time and chance to open up the hatch I found that it actually was a phone making the thing vibrate, but it sure as hell wasn’t mine. I would never buy an Apple product for any reason whatsoever, even if some of the included audio apps are superior to what Windows usually has to offer. That being said, the iPhone that was in the console had its LED flashing, signalling that there was a call. Being half sane and completely weirded out nearly made me throw the phone out of the window, but something else inside, something with big teeth, big hands, and a big, big thirst for vodka (Or human blood. Whichever) made me pick the phone up and put it to my ear, the voice on the other end being a familiar one, despite me never actually hearing it alone.

“Hello, Mr. Gadai.”

“... Gregorovich. Weird to hear you without you singing.”

“I’m sure it is, Ladron,” He chuckled jovially, like we’d just shared a joke. “From now on, I’ll be reaching you from this device. You may have noticed that your fellow Attuned-”

“Fellow beg pardon?”

“Ah-ha-ha! Of course you’ve never heard the term. My apologies, Ladron, allow me to explain. An Attuned, or rather the Attuned are people that are ‘synched’, shall we say, to the sounds humans can’t hear, the songs of the natural and unnatural worlds in unison,” Gregorovich sighed happily. “Da, it’s a beautiful, chaotic symphony once you truly begin to listen, but for the time being, you shall borrow upon my strength.”

I inhaled to reply, but couldn’t find the words. “... Mr. Gregorovich-”

“Please, are we not partners? Comrades? Call me Maxim.”

“Would you mind if I called you Max? It’s-”

“Maxim will do if I may call you Lad.”

“... Yeah, I actually kinda like that.” I really did. ‘Lad’ with a thick Russian accent sounded hilarious. “You know, for a real life super villain, you have a lot of charisma,” I pointed out.

“Bah! Maxim Gregorovich has never been a villain! What your peers fail to realize is that a man makes mistakes in his life, but is he defined by his failures, or is defined by his ambition? My goal was to bring the world together under clean energy, to eliminate the nuclear deterrents from the equation, to humble the world’s superpowers. Does this make me a rebel? Yes. Does it make me an anarchist? A little. Am I a bad man? I defy you to prove that I am!”

“Hey, man, I don’t have any problem with you. I mean, I don’t know you, personally, and you’ve been pretty chill so far. There's that little thing about Gina, though.”

Maxim made an angry noise. “Her mind was too weak for the melodies I discovered in my studies and experiments. Yours? You are bright. Grounded. Your mind is strong and flexible, as you have proven by defeating a golem made for the purpose of information extraction. You, Lad, are the only one that can truly wield the Gregorovich brand!”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Ah, then I just kill you. The moment you picked up the phone, you became mine.” Gregorovich started chuckling, nearly rising to a cackle before he reined himself in. “I kid, I jest, you are and will forever be free to do as you please. The only thing I ask of you is that you die a bloody death when the magic becomes too much.”

I squeezed the phone a little tighter, my eyes staring straight ahead as my breath caught in my lungs, coming to me in trembling gasps. “... I woke it up, so I have to use it.”

“Yes, very astute, Lad.”

“And if I use it, then the cops are gonna crack down on me.”

“Most likely.”

“But they probably already knew that I needed to vent or I’d die.”

“It’s better to have just you explode than to have you be the next me, I suppose,” Maxim chortled, his breath coming slow and heavy.

“So the cops want me to die, you want me to…?”

“I want you to fix. This. World,” he replied, enunciating carefully.

“... How?”

“We Legends once walked the Earth, just as you, Lad. What gave us providence over people?”

“I... have absolutely no idea.”

“Hm. Maybe you’ll learn, maybe you’ll stay in the dark. Maybe you’ll be the next modern Legend?”

“I get the funny feeling that we’re done talking.”

“We are, but feel free to ask your question.”

“You’re not going to directly teach me how to utilize magic, are you?”

“What fun would that be?” He asked pointlessly, as if he could have possibly thought that I’d find joy in trying not to die.

“It’d be plenty of fun. Blow something up, make a dick bigger, put some tits on a tree. You know, magic shit.”

“... That’s… That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.”

“Then how does any of this work?”

“Read about it. It will most likely be in your device.”

“And where exactly did this cancer thing come from?”

“The phone?”

“Yeah.” I tapped the back of it absentmindedly.

“Is it cliche to say that it has always been there?”

“Hella.”

“Legends generally do not understand slang.”

“Very.”

“Ah. In that case, it appeared after you ‘Synched’ or ‘awoken’ to Va Faxar.”

“Can I get Va Faxar for two hundred please?”

“Vaux Faker, as you young ones call it. I could digress, but that is the level Valiar Faxinus’ art has been reduced to in these times.”

“Ah, okay…” I didn’t know how to take that. “So Bryce Ulbrich needs an asswhooping.”

“I believe so. Is there anything else you would care for me to explain? I do not like communicating through devices.”

“Just one more so I don’t waste your time. What is the device, and what’s its purpose?”

“The device is an instrument from your time period that is most commonly carried. Once upon a time, devices were guitars or harmonicas, and in other lands whistles, erhus and the like. The device’s purpose is both as a communication tool and a weapon, both of which are well under its capabilities.”

“Okay. Should I save any more questions for next time?”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

“How would this thing be used as a weapon? Would I just play songs from it?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. And how-”

“You communicate with it in different ways. Some devices required you to play a heartsong, which is a person’s own identifier, or speak someone’s name and play the instrument as loudly as possible. Which action you needed to take often depended on the era.”

“Cool… So… I think that’s it. Have a good one, Maxim.”

“I wish the same to you, Lad. Do be careful of who you trust from now on. If you must reveal your legend, then say that you are the disciple of Rasputin. At least he is not hated.” Maxim’s advice seemed pretty solid.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. Much thank.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“Ah… Much luck?”

The call ended there and I pulled my phone away from my ear, not realizing that I’d been dripping small beads of sweat as I’d been talking. Whether it was from my heater being on or the intensity of my discomfort, I didn’t know, but I still needed to get back home so I could get my life back on track. After all, the world was still turning, despite the fact that it was flipped on its head with its privates waving about in the air from where I was standing. The drive home wasn’t that long, but I was quite distracted anyway. I just… It was hard to deal. I’d killed someone without killing them, but something about that just didn’t seem right. Everyone was telling me that the source of my magic was evil, but that didn’t seem quite right either. Maxim was telling me that he was a different kind of man, but even then I had my doubts, despite having seen no signs of malice in him when I’d met him. In fact, he was nothing less than cordial, which isn’t something someone generally associated with evil Russian world-domination-type folks.

The drive back gave me plenty of time to think. Too much, actually. It would’ve been nice if my phone was charged enough to play a couple of non-magical tunes, but I dealt with it for the time being and chilled as much as I could with the iffy radio music that was playing. When I got back to the house, Logan was waiting for me outside on the porch, so when I pulled to the side and parked in my spot, I wasn’t surprised to see him approaching me just about as fast as his little tree-stump legs would carry him. I really didn‘t want to deal with my new whatever he was supposed to be, but soon enough I was out of my car and he was as close as was polite.

“Things are gonna be different around here, Ladron.” Logan said firmly.

I stared at him. It took a moment, but I felt it. I felt it well enough to use a little. “Touch any of my shit and I’ll flay you and your little girlfriend alive. I’ll do her after I cut your hands and tongue off so there won’t be any nasty little surprises.” As his face rapidly whitened, I leaned in. “Don’t. Fuck. With. Me. I’ll beat you bloody. I won’t step out of line if you don’t make me, Logan. We’ve never had a problem before, don’t fucking cause one.”

“... Don’t think you’re tough shit just because of your Legend, Ladron. More powerful Legends than Gregorovich have been killed before, and you’re not a Legend.”

I gave him a smile. “Maxim and I have an understanding. I vent a little bit of my magic weekly and he doesn’t drive me insane. You want me to detonate myself, then I can do that. That’s the only thing I actually know how to do,” I bluffed brutally, seeing the fear in Logan’s eyes, “and I’m not gonna die alone, so you tell me, Logan; are we going to teach me how to responsibly use my power, or are we going to make me get to my wits end and become a terrorist?”

“... Goddamn, you’re fucking insane!”

“No, Logan. I’m desperate. I’m really, really desperate.”

We stood there in the moment, a forty-something year-old man looking at another his by half, being given an ultimatum from a fox with its back against the wall. My little move could be tilted, completely overthrown if Logan simply called my bluff. Seconds turned to minutes, a minute into an hour. The longer we mulled over what had been said, the more certain I became that Logan was going to kill me then and there.

“... I’ll teach you.”

“I’m glad you see reason.”