Milo regretted his choice to do his own jump and understood why Oz was the expert. Milo was far from his desired location; his first clue was the beach. He found himself retching out at around 3 A.M. If magic was an art, pain was necessary for every Magician who sought grander heights. Milo was still determining where he landed; if he was lucky, he could still catch a train home.

After he stopped heaving and collecting himself, he guessed he was near LA. And he assumed he would have to start walking. After all the magic he had, it wouldn’t exactly make the trip for him. A sandy trudge uphill told him he landed on Topanga beach, and the bus ride to the nearest Amtrak would be an estimated 3 hrs. So he settled onto the bench at the stop he found himself at and waited around 20 minutes or so for the bus.

An hour in, he got off in the city and waited for a connecting bus. He chided himself for not just asking Oz to give him a lift. He thought it would have been the sane thing to do. Instead, he went over the problem. Why did he miss the jump? It worked before when he came home the first time. He chopped it up to his lack of concentration. He had been pretty shaken.

The following bus came, and he continued his journey, looking out the window as the world moved around him. He couldn’t help thinking about everything he had been through the last few years and, most of all, the time he spent with Greg. He assumed Greg was nearly indestructible, and seeing him end up the way Greg did made him feel sick.

He recalled the first few days of training with the big guy and how exhausting each lesson was. Greg made him do an ungodly amount of strength and endurance conditioning between hours of learning to gather and deliver explosive amounts of energy. Each lesson was meant to increase his capacity and force while tempering his focus and control.

* * *

“Milo,” Greg called, from where he leaned against a blue-hued tree, “you are making real progress, but you haven’t quite figured out what I mean.”

“Yea?” Milo was trying to catch his breath,” You make me run while also demanding I breathe in magic and pump it with my heart.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Milo didn’t need to see Greg’s face to know he was smiling, “if you are really such a natural genius, you should get it eventually, right?”

“Then what am I missing?”

“Circulation, use your heart to pump magic through your blood.”

“I thought I was doing that already.” Milo found this all very frustrating since this was pretty much his first roadblock,

“Tie the gathering and use of your energy directly to your autonomous body functions. Do you breathe manually? Do you have to direct the flow of blood yourself? No, breathe in as much as you can, let it circulate, and then when you need it, exhale and flex!”

Listening to Greg made it clear that he purposely made it ambiguous to increase the likelihood he would fail to grasp it. Greg knew what he was talking about, and Milo was reminded the man was a madman. What made Milo tick was that after his explanation, it just clicked.

***

Milo was pulled from his reverie as the bus driver and a sickly individual began shouting at each other; Milo, near enough to the train station, got off the bus when the driver stopped to forcibly remove the man.

“I’m sick of your shit, Tony; next time, I'm calling the cops,” was all Milo heard from his departure.

As he walked, the sky slowly transitioned from black to a dull pink to orange to muted blue. Shops opened, and more people were on the street as the city roused and raised into the cacophony of a complete city. Milo was slowed occasionally and had to dodge around other people doing what people do.

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Milo was relieved when he arrived at Amtrak LAX station in Nuys. Thankfully, one of the first things Milo did when he got home was get a new bank card and promptly use it to get a coffee. Milo didn’t think he had ever given up $120 any faster than right then; he just wanted to get on the train and wait the rest of the journey home.

Nothing really happened as he watched the landscapes, cities, and towns fade out of his view. Every couple of hours, the train stopped to let passengers on and off or just to allow a cigarette. It was slow, and as the clock ticked and the sky darkened, he started to get agitated. He could swear someone was monitoring him.

The car he occupied only contained him and another gentleman in his 40s. The older man didn’t concern him much, but what did concern him was that there should have been more people. He had ridden this train before a few times, and from everything he knew, they were never just empty. Milo checked the displayed time, showing he was maybe another 30 minutes away from his stop.

He chastised himself for being careless and not realizing sooner he was most likely being Cased; the part that made him wary was that, as far as he could tell, he was the singular Magician on this train tonight. He didn’t exactly know what to make of this situation he found himself in, and for all he knew, that man could be an FBI agent.

Milo considered the possibilities as the clock ticked on. He was about 10 minutes away and could feel the train slowing even more now. Milo ran through his own head, asking if he was being too paranoid. 5 minutes from now, he should be able to walk off the train and into town; he could disappear, and no soul could track him down.

The door opened, and Milo took a moment to feign, stretching his arms before leaving. He made his way onto the platform and noted the other man had exited the other car door onto the platform. Thankfully, The old dude walked in the opposite direction than Milo intended to go. He didn’t linger. There was work to be done.

Milo let the brisk night air set him straight. If he wasn’t awake before, he was now. A slow car hit a left turn onto the same street he walked on underneath the amber street lights lazily holding back the darkness. The vehicle announced itself by the flashing of Police lights, breaking the stillness of the sleepy section of town, however, without sound.

Milo turned around only to have his vision taken by a bright flashlight and the sounds of the cruiser's doors closing. Milo was paranoid but not enough to implicitly distrust the police. He decided to be a good citizen and play nicely with the blue bloods doing their jobs.

“What’s up, Chief?” Milo hoped he sounded as innocent as he thought he was.

“Welfare check,” the Officer with the flashlight said.

“Most of the people out and about are usually inebriated or drug addicts,” the second Officer followed up.

“Ok… Well, I’m neither drunk nor twacked out.” Milo turned to leave, thinking the exchange was over.

“Wait a sec.” Officer 1 said as he walked up to him. “Since you’re here, we would like to ask you a couple questions, you know, before our check is complete.”

He could smell the fish in this business before it was in his face. He even felt vindicated in his paranoia. He could handle himself fine, but the full force of the law was a beast he would rather avoid facing down.

“Am I being detained, Officer?” Milo asked, “I've had a long day.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re being detained temporarily for this routine stop.” the second Officer quipped.

“It doesn’t.” It didn’t.

“What’s your name?” Officer 1 asked; it would seem that number 2 was clicking a pen at him mockingly.

“Micheal Locke,” he was beginning to get a tad exasperated, “can you get that light out of my eye now?”

“No. What are you doing out here at… 2:26 A.M.?”

“Just got off the Amtrak out of LAX.” Milo responded, ‘Routine, my ass.’

“Hey, John,” Officer 2 chimed in, “weren’t we told to keep an eye out for a suspicious character getting off the train?”

Milo’s eyes narrowed, and his heart skipped a beat as he tried to grasp what he was hearing. Just to be safe, he began preparing some magic for the occasion.

“Oh yeah,” Officer 1 chuckled, “Out from LAX? Sounds awfully familiar.”

“Isn’t that right?” Officer 2 laughed with the sound of cuffs, “Well, how about we bring this party back to the station?”

Milo was sure this was about to get very messy, and when the last straw fell, he decided. Fuck it. He was one of the few people on earth with true freedom; he could live off the grid Like Greg. Milo ran.

“Get on the ground!” the Officer shouted at the back of his head while running after him. Milo thought back to Greg in that moment and silently thanked him for making him run so godsdamned much. The sound of feet behind him was soon accompanied by sirens and more shouting as Milo outpaced the man.

He did his best to recover his library card from his wallet and a place to break the line of sight the entire time he ran. As soon as he rounded a corner, it was a moment too soon that he activated the unique Beskers Crook; he heard more sirens. At the very least, he was in town again, and next time, he would just maintain a cloak. And just like that, Milo Slipped into the library.