James sat at a small coffee table in the inner court of his facility, facing the mysterious person who had scared his previous unexpected visitor. Since they supposedly needed privacy he couldn't just talk it out outside, and he figured they'd appreciate a comfy seat over just standing still. It wasn't easy to spot through their black robes rimmed with silver, but from the way they walked when he accompanied them, it appeared they might have a hunched back, or a limp of some kind. The fact he couldn't pierce through the clothing was shocking and worrying, so far his senses had been good enough that he at least guessed the shape of people no matter what they covered themselves with from the shade cast within their attire. There was no such phenomenon here.
The overflowing dark cloth that covered their body confused him to the point he wasn't even certain of their height, for all he knew that thing he thought was a lump could very well be an aesthetic choice of the outfit, like the spiky shoulders of some vests of old. The only thing he knew for certain was that they wore a white elongated mask with a beak-like protrusion over the nose and mouth, with black glasses embedded in the pristine material by silver bands, with an admittedly very silly little hat on top, the thing more befitting of a large doll than a person. Even then, he wasn't fully convinced the mask wasn't just a trick for the entity to appear more humanoid. He knew they had five-fingered hands, but everything else was a mystery.
"Pardon me for being a poor host, we have yet to fully settle down and we weren't ready for guests. Would you care for a collation? A drink, a snack perhaps?"
"Oh, thank you dear, but that won't be necessary. This nifty little thing on my face doesn't permit nutrient intake, I'm afraid. Though I appreciate the thought, my dear Silhouette."
"I see. It may seem rude, but may I ask exactly who are you? You seem to know me, yet we've never met, and I'm quite certain the people I know and trust would have warned me before sending a friend my way."
"Oh, forgive me dear, I forgot to announce myself with that amusing youngster from earlier."
The masked figure removed their hat and bowed the best they could on their seat, bending their back and lowering their head as their arm went to the side, hat still in hand.
"You may call Mercury, alchemist extraordinaire."
They chuckled as they put their tiny accessory back where it belonged.
"As well as one of the councilmembers of Wicked Witchcraft."
James felt a chill pass through him at that. He immediately prepared spells he kept hidden within himself as he got ready to vanish in the shadows and form tentacles to cut and stab the mage.
"Ohohoh, do not worry dear. I am not here on cabal business. If I were, this entire street would already be blanketed in a cloud of flesh-eating miasma. No, I simply wish to discuss with you dear, a cordial meeting, nothing more, nothing less."
"I imagine you're still here because of what happened with Runar."
"Quite. Worry not, though our professions were similar I held no love for the man. He was gifted with far more knowledge than most could ever hope to learn, but he failed to utilize it. This sentiment is shared by the others, none of us have a grudge against you, dear. Even the few who wished for a fight were looking for a chance to uphold our reputation, nothing more."
"Well, that is good to know. If what my employees have told me is true, it was to the point you exiled him from the group, no?"
"In all but name. He had grown to be too problematic for the well-being of our ongoing operations. But, I'm not here to talk about his disappearance or failures. I'm here to discuss your future, dear."
"Is that a threat?"
"Oh, goodness gracious, no! See, my compatriots failed to realize the true circumstances of your victory. I do not. Vanquishing a mage focused on the production of goods in their base of operation? We may be weaker than the element wielders and their lot, but are much better at defending our home. Had I been in Runar's tragic place, I would be the one who vanished off the face of Terra Stellis."
"I do not plan on attacking you if that is your worry."
"I know dear, I know. I did my research. Call it a good habit from interacting with unstable ingredients so often. Besides, there is still a world of difference between attacking an outpost a few months old and attacking a lab that has stood for decades. But, I'm not here to talk about possible conflicts."
The masked figure made a show of taking something out of their robes, going slowly and orienting their body so that James could clearly see it wasn't a weapon they were holding, at least as far as he knew. Between the alchemist's fingers was a small vial, half the size of a thumb, filled with a red liquid of some sort.
"I am here to bring this small gift, a token of peace. See this as my way to distance myself from the actions of Runar, and the possible repercussions your actions may have on the rest of our cabal."
"May I ask what is this potion?"
"Oh, my pride and joy, the result of a lifetime's work and then some. Tell me, dear, have you ever been worried about your lifespan? The curse of mortality, the ever-approaching end of the miracle that animates us, dragging us closer and closer to the whims of the divine, or the cold of the uncaring abyss of the void?"
James was frozen by these words. He had never been one to worry about death back on Earth, and he saw the people who desperately searched for ways to live a little longer no matter the cost as a mixture of ridiculous, worrying, and pathetic. But what he heard coming from the alchemist's mouth weren't the claims of a snake-oil salesman, but a truth that echoed with his own experience.
James knew death. The way he could feel his grasp on reality slowly loosening, the creeping cold of unconsciousness... Rare were those who clinically died and were brought back, at least on Earth, but even here on Terra Stellis people who truly died and then came back one way or another were few as far as he knew. The phenomenon was known, but it was nigh impossible without the right resources and meticulous preparations, resulting in the same handful of individuals being the only ones undergoing it. Zalcien's censoring of the internet made research hard, but James had still done his best to look into a possible explanation as to the how and why of his reincarnation.
That was without mentioning the other thing his interlocutor had said that plagued his mind. His lack of care regarding his lifespan then made sense, he was a healthy human and thus would likely go on for decades before he had to worry about major medical issues. Now? Now he occupied a body he knew nothing about, a body that might very well last for millennia or spontaneously explode a week from now. He would have to go to an expert to get any kind of diagnostic, but the fact he had access to all nine of the known Aspects made any encounter with such people highly dangerous, not to mention it hinted that his body was likely anomalous and thus even a well-meaning person could struggle to investigate.
And his worries went further down the rabbit hole. He already knew most of his thinking and planning was limited to the short term, a habit from his days in the slums and his constant worries about attacks by Runar, and he had already resolved himself to fix it. Now? This pondering about his lifespan led him to think about what would his children and employees do if he were to die today. They'd have nothing, if anything those that he had infused, including his products, might die or be destroyed, leaving them with less than what they currently had. How would they bounce back from that? He needed to prepare now, to build enough of an empire that it could survive without him, and set up something so that the ratlings could have the best childhood possible, even with him gone.
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That didn't mean he bought what the alchemist was telling. A safe gateway to immortality wouldn't be so easily accessed by someone in what was supposed to be a dismissable city-state, and even as a token of goodwill giving so freely made no sense considering its value. No, either the mage was taking him for an idiot, or they wanted more than just staying on good terms. Either way, it was guaranteed this vial bore more troubles than it was worth.
"I assume you mean to say this concoction will preserve one's life."
"Indeed, dear, indeed! Every dose rewinds the clock by a year for a month, and the effects are cumulative. Past that, the years lost come back without preemptively taking a second dose."
"If a dose undoes aging by a year but only lasts a month, doesn't that mean that users would be forced to turn themselves into children until they are but embryos to avoid turning into living mummies?"
"I also sell aging potions dear, and those are permanent. Accelerating the passage of time is much easier than undoing it."
"What of the side effects, aside from the consequences of missing a dose?"
"None. However, altering the age of a body has consequences. Modifications such as the growth or loss of parts require nutrients and fluids to fuel the new body mass or its shedding. I already include enough in every vial to cover the shifting in a regular adult body, but a butterfly seeking to become a caterpillar once more or a child trying to skip puberty would do well to also buy some additional elixirs to prepare their bodies for heavy modifications."
"Nothing else?"
"Well, not a side effect to speak of, but there is a consequence to using this marvelous creation. As with all things the body learns to acclimate to it, and slowly grows more resistant to its effects. It isn't an issue for the first decade of usage, but past that point, the initial month of effect slowly diminishes. Not all at once, it is a matter of hour per hour, but long-term use will eventually see those thirty days of effect become a mere handful. Not that many have reached that point outside of my test subjects."
What Mercury just said sparked an idea in James' mind, a conclusion he had subconsciously reached from context clues and only now realized. His memories were stirred, and he recalled how plague doctors didn't wear avian masks for the aesthetic or some sort of symbol, they were effectively medical equipment. In the end of the hollow curved beak were placed items supposed to purify the air the person breathed in, protecting them from the mysterious illness that ravaged their world, unaware that the plague wasn't airborne, and thus all they did was cover the smell of rotting corpses all around.
The alchemist mentioning that their miraculous drug got less and less effective sparked James' imagination. Did they too use this mask not for the look it gave them, but to be exposed to their creation constantly? If so, how long had they taken it to need a constant supply? How old were they?
"Forgive me for saying this, but despite its flaws, I fail to see why you chose the criminal world with such a wondrous beverage at hand. Pharmaceutical companies would fight to have you on their team and sell a watered-down version of your potion. You could make millions, if not billions, without lifting a finger."
"Oh, thank you dear, but alas, that is impossible. At this point, there is no leaving this unlawful life for me. Besides, some of my reagents and tests wouldn't be fit for the common man, some are only available on the black market and impossible to obtain with the average morality and ethics of this day and age."
"I doubt large corporations are as reluctant to dabble in forbidden items as you think."
"I have clients among them, I know their lot better than you do dear. In any case, this vial comes free of charge, do as you wish with it. If you ever wish for more dear, directly contact me via my subordinates. I doubt the rest of the cabal would be open to dealing with Runar's bane."
"I thought they elected not to act against me?"
"Because they believe you will die, dear."
James felt a chill invade his very soul. This wasn't the same kind of sensation as a threat, no. It was something much more primal, a foreboding feeling of danger that his body only now detected thanks to the alchemist's words, as though James' very being felt its impending doom approaching.
"You see dear, Runar was an outcast in our community well before his falling out with the rest of the council, but there was one person who truly considered him a friend and vice versa. A little someone you might be familiar with, the beloved figurehead of our group. His degrading mental health has given us much leeway in our handling of everyday operations, but even his failing memory couldn't stop his quest for vengeance. Well, I believe so. I left the meeting they told him the news, partly to warn you. If I am wrong, then there is nothing to fear. If not, well, you'll find some use out of this."
Another potion joined the first one on the table. This larger container, an Erlenmeyer whose shaft could be comfortably held by a single hand and closed off by a surprisingly mundane cork, was filled to the top of its conal part by an ephemeral pale blue mist.
"A volatile elixir of distraction. A deceptively complex potion despite being among the simplest in the family of those that influence the mind. Its effects are much more banal than its conception would imply, it clears the brain of all non-vital thoughts for a short amount of time depending on the subject's intelligence, from dozens of minutes to a handful of seconds. Many fail to see its utility, understandably so. After all, rabid beasts mostly act on instinctual vital needs, and sapient beings quickly recover and resume their thought process. It does prove wonderful when used on a damaged mind, however."
He comes to warn me of a problem I can't solve and gives me its solution. No, this is too good to be true. There is something else at play here.
"You want me to use it on Abrakaboom when he comes for me, and somehow it'll stop him from obliterating me. How, and why? Why do you risk the life of your guardian angel for a stranger who hasn't agreed to any sort of commercial relationship yet?"
"The how is simple. As I've explained it will interrupt all thinking not directly related to staying alive, and though his intellect will allow him to recover nigh-instantly, his damaged psyche will have forgotten his fury. It could be sparked again if he were to be reminded of Runar's disappearance, or it could very well permanently erase all wishes to avenge his fallen friend. As for the why?"
The masked figure leaned forward on their seat and whispered the next few sentences carefully.
"I am a survivor, dear. Wicked Witchcraft's clock is ticking, and I am proud to be among the rats that will flee the sinking ship to live another day. They are not the first group I join, and they won't be the last. I am simply taking measures to ensure there will be something for me when they are gone. Do not think I placed all my eggs in a single basket though dear, you are not the only noteworthy man in this city, simply the only one I had no contact with yet."
"You plan on betraying your comrades, and you share this plan with those looking for trustworthy companions? I think there might be something off with your methods."
"I will not betray the cabal. I will help them until the bitter end, or at least until it seems defeat is inevitable. I merely wish to spare you from the hysteric wrath of a man whose mind is already halfway gone yet has the power to make the greatest Heroes of this city tremble in their boots. Should the rest elect to have you killed, though I will refuse to involve myself, I will not stand in their way either. They know me well, dear, and I am upfront with my every move. The cabal will fall anyway, Abrakaboom only has so much time left before even his magic fails to keep him active, and at that point, there is nothing we can do to defend ourselves from the righteous fury of the many enemies we have made."
They rose from their seat and bowed once more.
"I hope you fare well in your encounter with the greatest mage this city has seen. May we meet again dear, either as allies or buyer and seller."
A vial fell from their robes and shattered against the ground, producing a puff of smoke that covered them. Much like the alchemist's robes their concoction hid everything from James' senses, though he wasn't surprised to see they were gone by the time the gas disappeared. He hadn't expected to meet any of the important players in Zalcien aside from Blake Black so soon, but at least he was lucky enough this one came here in peace. Sadly, they also warned of a much more famous power and one with less friendly intentions.
James had no illusion of somehow being able to fend off a man who could make Heroes trained to handle powerful Villains run around in circles. He struggled against Runar, and apparently, he was essentially a nobody compared to the rest of the magical criminal group he came from, at least relative to the other leaders. He couldn't take everything his unplanned guest said at face value, even though it tended to align with the information his people had managed to gather. As for potential moral or safety quandaries concerning using the deus ex machina potion he had been offered, he had none. If one of the strongest Villains in the city came looking for a fight, there was no way he could survive with his powers alone, and the same went for his base.
There was no need to turn that potion into a trap since he was guaranteed to die without it. The only thing he could reasonably come up with was some kind of mind control, and even then he'd take that over death. He could always try to fight chains trapping his mind, he couldn't escape death, not a second time. As for the ethics of taking advantage of an old man's dementia or similar mental decay? He had no issue with it when the same old man could raze city blocks with a flick of a wrist and was deadset on killing him. Allegedly. So far, he had yet to see any proof of the mage wishing him harm.
"SILHOUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTE!"