After being discharged from the hospital and bumming a ride back to his truck with Meechin and Philips, Joseph finally pulled up to his shop just as the sun was setting atop the peaks of the mountains to the west casting all of downtown Gregory Basin in vibrant orange. Downtown was something of a wonder for a community in this area in that it was fully intact even after the extradimensional incident that wiped out Eckles. In those early years, the Scar, the byproduct of said incident, dug into the geography like a tick, sunk down into the roots of the world, and spread itself wide. Gregory Basin’s new neighbors and their alien reality didn’t play well with the local one, causing sudden violent upheaval in the surrounding region for a long time.
People that had lived beside one another their entire lives suddenly found their houses separated by a slowly widening chasm, or a shelf of rock in the middle of a neighborhood might have one day lifted itself ten feet higher, breaking up roads, gas lines, water pipes, and power cables. Some folks went to bed in their riverside homes that had been in their family for generations then woke up to find the river had changed course or had become a lake. Mutated beasts stalked the countryside during the night, killing livestock and forcing people to abandon their homes.
Downtown Gregory Basin, though, was intact. An area three blocks wide and four deep of old, red brick buildings with big glass windows on their fronts. There was Dancing Queen Theater that got its name from an apocryphal visit from the queen of England. Shefford’s Outfitters whose laconic proprietor no one ever spotted outside of his store. The unfortunately named Winky’s, a bar that still sprinkled sawdust on its floors and brewed its own beer. All of these stood together even as the universe unraveled around them. While the rest of the world broke apart, the terrible uncertainty of their lives pushed these people together, and downtown is where it tended to happen.
Joseph’s home, the Tower, was a two story building made of downtown’s nearly uniform material of red brick. It sported large multi-paned windows facing west, above which hung his apartment’s balcony that doubled as an awning protecting the shop's solid green wooden door from rain and snow. Aside from the balcony, the upper floor’s face was brick with a mural sporting a stylized version of the shop’s namesake, a great, imposing tower on a purple background complete with lightning bolts stabbing down menacingly across the design. He’d had some kids from the arts program come and paint it for him a few years ago, and he was quite pleased with the look.
Idly jingling his keys as he limped up to his door, Joseph glanced over to his right where he kept his potted evergreen shrub. The thing needed trimming as it seemed to grow up the walls and out into the sidewalk to dominate half of the walkway, but the wild look was part of the charm and the function.
The plant hid a white cigarette butt, smoked down to the nub, laid just beyond the lip of the pot. Hand rolled. One of Uncle Wilhelm's. It looked like the old man wanted to meet and as soon as possible. Johansen's presence in town would make the usual method problematic, but he would find a way.
A yellow note was stuck near the handle of the door saying he’d missed a delivery sometime today. If it was the new rulebook for Crusaders and Cultists, he’d be hip deep in boxes by tomorrow. Hopefully the delivery guy would take pity on Joseph and agree to bring the packages inside.
He took the note and unlocked the door, pushing it open gently and catching the falling square of flash paper he’d stuck between the door and the jamb. Before entering, he checked the paper for extra marks, creases, or tears. Nothing. Then he burned it, observing the color of the flame briefly turn from yellow to blue before it winked out.
Satisfied, he stepped inside and flipped on the lights to reveal the organized chaos within. Shelves upon shelves of paperbacks, comics, board games, wargame minifigures, boxes of collectible cards, dice, folders, mats, notebooks, screens, modular model sets, inkwells, paints, pens, and parchment formed a labyrinth of nerd culture that, once entered, wasn’t so easily escaped. To his left was a glass case that held some of the more valuable pieces of the shop’s collection for his patrons to gawk at while Joseph rung them up at the till. Above, among the duct work, hung cardboard characters and scenes promoting various franchises on offer if one could brave the labyrinth to get to the right stuff. There was a dragon here, a space ship there, various replicas of swords, pistols, castles and whatnot everywhere one turned.
The shop didn't bring in a whole lot of money. The town didn't have the kind of nerd scene to support it. However, it attracted the kind of customer Joseph felt at home with, and it gave people the ability to experience the fantastical on their terms as opposed to the normal way of finding the fantastical chowing down on a family pet or leveling a building.
Locking the door behind him, he dropped his keys on the counter and stuck the yellow note on the keyboard for the register, so he would see it when he opened up tomorrow morning, Then he hobbled through the nerd labyrinth to the fire exit in the back where he retrieved his second bit of flash paper, burning it in his hand and observing the blue flame. No one had entered the shop in his absence, not through the doors at least, and if they did, they didn't let these little security workings ground themselves out.
Done with his downstairs security sweep, he felt it was reasonably safe to get to work. A couple steps to his left was the iron spiral staircase to his apartment. On it hung a sign in painted letters that said: “Upper floors of the Tower protected by dangerous magics. Keep out.” Again, not his idea, but it was on brand and almost true.
He drew the chain aside and was about to make the perilous one-legged climb when an insistent rapping on the front door drew him up.
Joseph could have ignored it. He thought about it for a full second, about how nice it would feel to sink into his own bed. However, the prospect of going up the narrow stairway wearing his cast wasn't particularly appealing. So, he limped back through the labyrinth, withdrew the deadbolt and eased the door open to find Thomas there.
Tommy was a skinny little waif of a boy with messy black hair and a love for all things dragon. He stood on Joseph’s porch wearing an oversized black jacket with dragons on the sleeves, sweat pants, and beaten up old sneakers with flames on the sides. The kid was looking away and tracing the red bricks beside the door with his fingers even as Joseph eased the door open.
“Hey, Tommy. What brings you around these parts?”
“You weren’t here today,” Tommy stated flatly. It wasn’t an accusation or a lead into a question. It was a statement of fact.
Joseph opened the door wider to reveal the cast on his leg. “Yeah. Sorry. I had to go to the hospital, and it took me a long time. Is your mom working late tonight?”
Tommy took a moment out of tracing the mortar on the wall to look at Joseph’s leg, tilting his head to the side to get a better angle. Tommy didn’t look at people when he talked to them or when they talked to him, but he always seemed to listen and remember what people said and details generally overlooked by others. Gleaning all he could from his examination of Joseph's cast, he went back to running his fingers over the bricks.
“Tommy?”
“What?”
“Is your mom working late tonight?”
The kid nodded.
Joseph winced. “Sorry about that, Tommy.”
Kathleen, Tommy’s mom, was an ER nurse at Tilton Medical, and that place was not business as usual today thanks to him. Tommy was a regular to the Tower, a regular that Joseph liked and not because he was a good customer. Sure, he hung out at the Tower a lot, but he rarely bought anything. That didn't stop him from being the best salesman Joseph had just by being himself. Tommy was a sweet kid that threw himself into his interests with enthusiasm you almost never saw once you reached adulthood. In fact-
“You want to come in and get things ready for the game tomorrow?”
“Yeah!” Tommy’s eyes lit up, and he beamed with excitement, not quite directly at Joseph.
“Alright. Besides, if your mom knew I left you out in the cold, I'd be in trouble. Let’s open things up for another hour, then it’s time to go home. Agreed?”
“Okay. Did you get the new Crusaders and Cultists? It's supposed to have new subclasses and origins. I've got so many ideas.”
“Not yet, but I will. The boxes are in the mail.”
“Okay. Can I come back tomorrow to open the boxes?”
“Oh, I'm sure there'll be plenty of boxes to open, my man. The folders and minis are over there. Go get them set up how you want them, and I'll be at the register.”
"Okay."
With that, the kid was off, through the entrance to the labyrinth and to the corner of the shop where the Tower held public tabletop games. Tommy and his friends had an ongoing campaign that met after school, and Tommy lived for the game, using it as an avenue to express himself on his terms as opposed to the ones society imposed on him.
Gregory Basin being like it was, it necessitated a meeting place for kids to play. The memories of people snatched off the street by extradimensional beasts still haunted the dreams of the parents and grandparents of the town, so most businesses and some homes had become sanctuaries for the various cliques of young people over time. No one really talked about it, but that's how things shook out. Businesses were expected to have at least some capacity for the young to congregate, even the bars and pubs.
Joseph sat down on his stool behind the glass counter and cracked open his book, a heavily dog-eared copy of Programming Logic for Beginners. He flipped to the section on calling functions. Scribbled notes and oddly shaped drawings spidered across the pages, around the diagrams and into the margins with a healthy amount of crossed out bits where he'd gotten the concepts wrong or the knowledge wasn't applicable to his projects. He sighed, wishing he had time to get an in person lesson or two. Doing it online was out of the question, of course. Just showing interest in the subject would get him an additional flag in AHAB’s psychological database.
After a few minutes, his eyes started to glaze over. It had been a while since he’d slept, and the subject matter wasn't thrilling to say the least. He halfheartedly flipped through the pages, wondering if he should have invested in a circuit engineering book instead.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
To his right, the door to the Tower opened once more. This time, a small, severe looking middle-aged man with male pattern baldness and a slight potbelly, wearing a wrinkled suit and carrying a leather messenger bag stepped in front outside. His gaze swept the room from the signs to the books to the games, looking for anything outside of propriety or decency with a perpetual stoic frown on his face. It was a slow, methodical process Vance Murphy went through everywhere he went as long as he was on the clock, and he was almost always on the clock. When his sweep finally forced him to make eye contact with Joseph, the small man straightened his shoulders and walked purposefully up to the counter.
Before Mr. Murphy could get all the way to him, Joseph was up and shuffling around the counter to shake the man’s offered hand. He made sure to shake with the least bandaged hand. Murphy was a squeezer, Joseph knew, maybe as a compensation for his height or myriad other things.
“Mr. Murphy, how are you?” Joseph asked.
Murphy’s voice was lower than one might expect with a slight wavering in pitch like he constantly had a sore throat. “Mr Jaeger. I’m well, but you look like you have been through an ordeal.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“Fighting again, Mr. Jaeger?” Murphy inquired with a disapproving look. “I think this is where I would make a humorous comment about seeing me after school, but here we are, way after school.” The little man was just a feisty teaching assistant back when Joseph still troubled the halls of Gregory Basin’s schools, but the two of them had a few run-ins back in the day, though Murphy’s problems went far beyond the kid with the fiery palms and bad judgment. A class of supers tended to create unique problems they didn't train you for in the universities.
“So, what brings you here this evening, Mr. Murphy? If you’re looking to expand the C&C club now would be the right time.”
Murphy's face lost whatever mirth it had as he reached down and unclasped the messenger bag at his hip, pulling out a mason jar careful only to touch the lid with just his fingertips. “I’m afraid I’m here for your other services, Mr. Jaeger. Do you know what this is?”
Gingerly, the man handed the mason jar to Joseph, making sure Joseph had a good hold on it before he let it go fully. Inside, was a creature that looked like a butterfly made of smoky glass, perched on a broken number 2 pencil that rattled against the wall of the jar.
As Joseph brought the jar up to his face to examine the little thing, the insect’s body seemed to pulse and shimmer, and the jar vibrated perceptibly in his hand. He felt his eyes unfocusing and his mind drifting away. Blinking, he set the mason jar down on the glass counter, where it hummed and pulsed for a second more before going back to a more restful state.
Simultaneously light steps on the iron stairway alerted Joseph to a nosey rogue climbing his tower.
“Nope,” Joseph called loudly.
The steps stopped momentarily then retreated downward until they hit the rug at the bottom of the stairs.
Murphy craned his neck in a futile attempt at seeing over the shelves, shook his head, then leaned in. “I didn’t realize we were not alone,” he said in a low voice.
“It’s fine. Tell me about the bug.”
“A good number of them appear to have moved into the upper floors of our building. We primarily use floor three for storage, so I don’t know exactly how long they have been up there. We discovered them when a group of students failed to attend class, prompting us to initiate lockdown and search procedures. When we found them-”
Tommy came out of the labyrinth and stood in front of the counter seemingly oblivious of Principal Murphy. “The sign was down,” he said, another statement of fact.
“Still off limits, even without the sign,” Joseph replied, looking from Murphy to Tommy and back again. Murphy nodded, giving him permission to put the conversation on hold for a moment. “You have everything set up how you want it, over there?”
“I put together a maze with some minotaur pikemen and shape shifters that pretend to be the party’s friends. If the heroes can get through, then they’ll have to face the high wizard,” the boy said, squatting down to look at the spines of some of the used fantasy books.
Murphy, seeming to genuinely enjoy seeing one of his students in their element, jumped in. “And did you write this encounter yourself, Mr. Kennedy?”
Tommy, seeming to notice Principal Murphy for the first time, stood up quickly with his arms at his sides, eyes wide like he’d just seen a mountain lion in the gentleman's section of the local department store.
“Did you write it yourself, Mr. Kennedy?” Murphy repeated gently.
Tommy nodded.
“That’s very impressive, Mr. Kennedy. And I assume that this helps you make friends and practice your math and English skills?”
Tommy nodded again, his eyes flitting over to the stacked comics Joseph kept on the countertop. Joseph felt for the kid. Seeing your principal lurking around a place you considered “yours” was always jarring when you were that age. Hell, Joseph thought his teachers lived in coffins under the school when he was young.
”Tommy here is one of our most creative game masters, Mr. Murphy,” Joseph said, coming to Tommy's rescue. "So, is this high wizard the one enslaved by the dragon, Tommy?”
“The wizard’s not a slave,” Tommy replied matter of factly, instantly forgetting about the other man in the room. They were back in Tommy’s world now, and that world, he knew. “The dragon found the wizard when he was just a kid and convinced him to enter into a pact. Now the dragon uses his magic to rule the world.”
“That sounds an awful lot like the thing I said. This is an evil dragon right?”
“Not evil. Just not like us,” Tommy mumbled, picking up the edge of Dominara Issue 22 and letting the pages fall in rapid succession, allowing the color and motion to fill his vision. “The dragon loves the wizard in his own way.”
“No doubt.”
“Mr. Jaeger? Excuse us for a moment, Tommy.” Murphy interjected, grabbing the mason jar off the counter, putting his other hand on Joseph’s forearm, and leading him toward the entrance of the labyrinth. Joseph allowed himself to be led, his cast’s boot making *tock* *tock* sounds on the thin carpet.
Once they were well away, Murphy continued. “So, are you familiar with this type of moth? Is it alien? The school district is willing to pay for your expertise, of course.”
“Yes and sort of. I’m pretty sure it’s a mutated variant of one of the local moths, but I wouldn't call it local anymore, if that makes any sense. You were just mentioning how you found the missing students.”
“Crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, big smiles on their faces despite their bumps and bruises. I have called their parents and informed them of the situation, but that is only the first step. We’ve sealed up the doors and duct work for that part of the school so far, but I’m afraid that is just a stop gap. I would ask you to come assess the situation yourself, but seeing as how you just got out of the hospital-”
“I’m fine.”
“While that may be true- and I have my doubts- I need to address this problem now with someone that won't just burn the place down. I heard about the Maldonado's home.”
“Wow. Word travels fast.”
“We are a small community, and the flames could be seen for miles. So, what can you tell me about our visitors?”
“They’re a type of moth that use visual and subaudible means of confusing or incapacitating predators. They aren’t necessarily dangerous on their own, but in a swarm or when they form a hive, things can get bad.”
“If I'm not mistaken, moths don’t build hives.”
“Well, these do. They’re mutated, so there is no 1 to 1 comparison to them in the books.”
“Mr. Jaeger?” Tommy asked from over by the counter.
“Yes, Tommy?”
“Why do you want to be a programmer?”
Tommy must have seen Joseph's book. A mistake on Joseph's part but probably a harmless one. He leaned over to address Tommy more directly even though the kid still wasn’t looking his way. “I don’t really,” he replied honestly. “It’s just something I kind of fell into, and I'm not sure if it's the right path for me. I’m pretty terrible at it. Too much math.”
That earned A little smirk from Murphy. Joseph frowned at him, silently telling him his opinion wasn’t needed just now.
“Okay,” the boy replied, going back to thumbing through the book way faster than he could read it. Joseph kept that particular issue of Dominara on the counter for just this purpose. “I’m gonna go back home now. Thank you very much for letting me play in your shop, Mr. Jaeger,” he said, placing his hands politely at his sides just like his mom made him practice.
“No problem, Tommy. Do you want me to walk you home, or can you make it?”
“Mom says I can be out until the street lights come on.”
Murphy strode forward and stuck out his hand for Tommy to shake. The boy hesitantly did so, the motion seemingly alien to him. “Your mother must trust you, Mr. Kennedy. You better get on then. The lights will be on any minute now.”
“Okay. Goodbye, Mr. Jaeger.” Again he said this with the exact inflection Joseph was sure Kathleen taught the kid to use. "And Mr. Murphy."
“Have a good night, Tommy. See you tomorrow.” The door closed behind Tommy, and Joseph could hear his little fingers brushing along the brick and mortar to the edge of the building.
The school principal and the super comic shop proprietor stood there silently for a moment staring at the door.
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Murphy. “Will mundane means take care of our problem, or will we require someone like you?”
“You’ve got the place sealed up, so copious amounts of bug bombs or fumigation might buy you some time. Then you’re going to need someone to come in and take care of the hive. It’s hardier and there’s a queen.” Joseph rubbed his face, feeling the tiredness creeping in. "If you give me until tomorrow, I can come and take a look."
“That won't be necessary. There's a number I can call to get help from the state. I’ll get started on my end as soon as possible. My next stop will be at Shefford’s.” He reached into his pocket and handed Joseph a consult billing form. “Here. Just mail this in, and you’ll get your fee. I appreciate the advice.”
“I don’t like how you said ‘I’ll get started ASAP.’ What are you planning to do?”
“Nothing drastic, Mr. Jaeger. I have a man at the school now watching the building, and together we will deploy pesticide in the stairwells to make things relatively safe for my faculty and staff come morning. Then we’ll need to initiate the at-home-learning program until this issue is resolved.”
“Alright. Well, if you change your mind and want to keep things local, you have my number. Take care, Mr. Murphy.”
“You too, Mr. Jaeger. I feel that of the two of us, you will need it the most," the principal said as he opened the door to leave. "Expect a surge of bored young people cavorting around town. You're going to be busy.” Then he stepped out into the night.
After locking up, Joseph grabbed his Programming Logic book and made his way to the spiral staircase.
Murphy was probably right. WIth Johansen in town looking over his shoulder and the Tower about to be besieged by young hobbyists, Joseph would just have to sleep when he was dead.
Tonight, he needed to make some magic.