a decent sized park with a  pond that is now frozen over.

---->Derring Condominiums

Parking just outside Hawkins Park, Rodger wrapped his coat tightly around himself as he left his car, shivering more for psychological reasons than from the cold. And he strode purposefully towards where that fateful birthday party had been, to wait for Oswald Gysbourne, Sr. to arrive.

Mr. Gysbourne pulled into the park's parking lot slightly late, notably without his driver. He made his way towards the appointed meeting area, trying to hurry as best the old man could.

"I beg your pardon for being late, Mr. Eskin. I'm not used to driving any more, and that city traffic is so confusing. I must remember to give my driver a raise. How is your family?" he asked. He waved his hand, almost as if in greeting, casting a quick spell to see if anyone was watching them, and if so, how intently.

"Oh, the boys are doing quite well, thank you." Rodger said, looking up from the bench he was sitting on. His expression was rather glum and gloomy, though, from contemplating what this place meant to him.

"Good, good," replied Oswald the Elder as he confirmed that no-one was specifically watching them. Once that was done, he chanted another quick spell, before speaking to Rodger again.

"There we are. I've set up a spell that should keep our conversation private, Mr. Eskin. Are you familiar with the concept of an S.E.P. field? Lovely things, not quite so obvious as full-on sensory blockage to the trained eye, but just as effective on the common man. Now that we're safe, let's get down to business, shall we? Oswald has informed me that you believe you've been granted magical powers by demons, yes? He said you seem somewhat reluctant about it, though, which is perfectly understandable. Demons rarely do anything that won't benefit themselves in some way. Of course... it wasn't really demons, now was it? Oswald said he's never felt demonic energies when you've cast spells near him, and I couldn't sense anything of the sort when I met you at the registration office.

Also of note, my son has been looking into the Freedom of Information Act, as well as other ways to get around government classification of information. Tell me, Mr. Eskin, are the two connected?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what a 'S.E.P. field' is, I'm afraid. Other than these unwelcome spells in my head, I'm a complete layman when it comes to things magical. Well, beyond one college course on alchemy, that is." Rodger admitted candidly.

"Michael's looking into classified information? Oh dear... yes, yes that may be connected," the teacher said uncomfortably, having trouble making himself meet Mr. Gysbourne's gaze. His sad eyes drifted over towards the spot he was pretty sure was where he'd died at. Then he looked back at the wizard. "Did Ozzy also tell you that I'm an android?"

"It's a little something inspired by Douglas Adams' 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' novels, a 'Someone Else's Problem Field'. Wonderful, really. People see you and hear you, but they don't remember it because their mind just files you away as someone else's problem. It's almost like their eyes and ears just slide right over you. As long as you don't overtly effect them, say by completely blocking their way or coming into direct physical contact with them, you may as well be invisible and inaudible. And they teach alchemy in normal colleges, eh? Well, it's probably complete rubbish what they taught you, or else someone's in big trouble. At least, they would have been back then. Now, I'm not so sure, what with this seemingly public revelation of the existence of the supernatural." replied Mr. Gysbourne, sighing.

"Ah, but listen to me, I'm rambling. Yes, Oswald told me, and Michael's been trying, but unfortunately he hasn't come up with any loopholes so far. I think he's been trying to go on the basis that, as a person, you should be able to know what exactly is going on with your own body. Well, techincally, it's a mechanical automaton resembling your old body that now houses your spirit, but that's something for the government and I to fuss over. What you and I are concerned with is what this new body of yours can do. You've gained spellcasting ability, yes? Tell me, how does it work, to your knowledge?"

"It was primarily on the history and philosophy of alchemy, not a lab course, Mr. Gysbourne."


"Well... it's like a series of computer menus in my head. Hard to navigate, but once I find the spell I'm looking for, I just click on it and usually a targeting cursor appears. I aim that, click again, and the spell takes over my body casting itself. There have been a few that target differently or ask for extra input, but in general, that's it. There's another display with gemstones for reading how much mana I have available of each color. Should I demonstrate something minor?"

Mr. Gysbourne chuckled, "Oh, I surmised, Rodger. What I mean is, what you were likely taught in that class was more than likely nothing but failed attempts by rich layabouts who fancied themselves as wizards. If they taught you anything real, magically speaking, it means that someone along the line didn't cover their tracks, and that was one of our biggest rules: Don't get caught. Why else would we have so many ways of concealing our presence? We do not hide in the shadows because we get a laugh out of it, you know. But, I digress. Yes, Rodger, I'd like to see what you can do."

Rodger's eyes unfocused, seeming to gaze off into space as he brought up the spell menu and started going through it, looking for something he'd already tried at least once that had not targeted a living person. Oh, there was one. But he'd need a dollar bill. His eyes focused again as he fished in his pocket for his wallet, and checked inside. Yes, he had one.

Withdrawing the buck, he returned his wallet to his pocket and his eyes unfocused again, seeing the menu he currently had open.

"Washington Speaks," he suddenly intoned in his much deeper spellcasting voice, after clicking on the spell and again to target the bill with the input of 'Oswald Gysbourne, Sr.' as the secondary target.

Emerald sparkles coruscated around the bill, limning it in hidden runes too small for Rodger to make out, and writing his own name in near-microscopic writing along one edge of the bill before they faded from visibility. Reality warped and refreshed itself, making the dollar into one enchanted through plutomancy, plus a masked magic effect deceiving divination or analysis into it to appear to be a minor charm of good luck. His eyes refocused as the internal display told him to now spend or give the bill away.

"Hold this for a minute, and pass it back," Rodger said, proffering the dollar bill to Oswald.

Oswald nodded as he observed the spell being cast and felt the mana as it flowed through Rodger and the bill.

"Hmm... feels like a good luck charm... but the spell name tells me otherwise. Ingenious, though, that the spell's designer could hide its true nature. This could fool even wizards like myself, and therefore be nearly undetectable."

After holding it for the prescribed amount of time, he hands it back to Rodger, wondering what the spell's effects were.

Taking the bill back, Rodger saw, in his head, the message pop up about the return of the enchanted note.

He clicked on it, and the dollar flared with a golden and green dollar sign composed of tightly interlaced, fractal runic designs. Which then irised open in the air just above the bill, beginning to replay what had been seen and heard in that minute by Oswald while he held it.

The physical dollar caught unnatural fire, shattering into 3 quarters and assorted small change, with the individual coins burning up and breaking into progressively smaller denominations until the pennies were vaporizing into nothingness as the final bits of their value were used up to fuel the display. It lasted perhaps 20-30 seconds, not enough to get the entire recording, but that was the value of a single dollar for you.

Oswald's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"A very useful spell, if with an expensive material component. If a dollar only buys half a minute, though, you couldn't get much useful reconnaissance without handing it to them yourself like you just did me. A hundred dollars, assuming the same rate of time, would not even buy an hour of viewing. You'd be better off with a good old crystal ball and a knowledge of divination magic."

"Quite likely. But at least that's one of the few spells whose possible uses I can figure out on my own. I haven't a clue what the vast majority are good for, and many have names that I'm scared to even attempt casting."

Oswald sighed, "That is unfortunate. If you'd like to set up a practice session, I'm sure we can set something up. Oswald and I can both provide non-human targets for your spells. Your spells shouldn't be able to tell the difference, but if they can, I can more than likely defend against it. Do you know if the targeting is merely visually based, or is there more to it?"

"There's definitely more to it. I've had spells tell me 'invalid target', and I had one that didn't target at all but just went off on everything nearby. And there was that egg spell; what was it called? Oh yes, A Hatch Is Plotted where the egg hatched, but the chick gave me a dirty look, announced that I was in range, and commited suicide. It's like every spell is operating under its' own rules." he said.

"Even when I was functionally blind, at the prison, She's Your Granny kept trying to pull the cursor towards people I couldn't see, trying to cast itself." A sigh followed, and the teacher's expression got more downcast.

"I don't dare try to do more than a few casts a day, since the same mana that powers my spells is what's keeping me - and several other clowns - alive, Mr. Gysbourne. And I... don't have control over acquiring more mana."

Oswald scratched his chin in thought, wondering what to make of this information. Rodger was certainly a curious individual, and this problem of his would take more than a little sorting out.

"Hrmm... interesting. Well, do you have any idea how your mana collection systems work? I might be able to teach you a few tricks... Wizards have their own personal mana supplies, but we're also able to gather mana from the world around us. Have you ever meditated before, Rodger?"

Rodger looked up. "Unfortunately... err... I get mana from the other clowns suffering. That's... not easy for me to face. Each of them is connected to one of the gems in my gemstone screen, but beyond that I have no idea how it all works. And the demons have made it clear, a number of times, that I'm not going to be told any more than I absolutely need to know."

Oswald nodded. "Causing suffering is never something easy. So, despite all this, you're registered as a superhero? Well, I suppose that's a good way to balance things out. And I do appreciate you taking an advisory role with that team. Which brings me to my next question... while you did seem somewhat stressed out at the registration office, now you seem... worse. Did something else happen? Or is all this information, and the implications thereof, just really starting to sink in?"

Rodger hung his head. "I'm not registered... as a superhero, Mr. Gysbourne."

He fished out his wallet. "Please... keep this a secret?" he begged the wizard-lawyer.

And he flipped his wallet open, showing Oswald his supervillain registration card. With authorization to use his powers to kill.

"That's what the government issued me instead."

Oswald sighed and put his forehead in his hand, massaging it with his fingers.

"That is... unfortunate. But irrelevant. Tell me, Mr. Eskin, have they threatened your family? Your spirit? Anything else important to you? Is there some way that they are forcing you into this role they want you to play?"

Closing and pocketing his wallet again, Rodger sat back down on the cold bench, his head hanging low. "One of them threatened to tell Brenda that she's married to a dead man. They hold all the cards. I'm the only clown in the group who didn't go into, whatever this is, with open eyes and full knowledge. The only one who didn't have a choice, becoming like this. All the rest signed contracts to do it. Eager, willing, gung-ho. And here I am, with no idea what I'm doing or why all this going on. And I'm the one with the powers that are the keystone for it all."

His tone was leaden, almost hopeless.

"How can I deny them their dream? I'm just one voice in a troupe of 17."

"And what is this dream? This thing they've all committed such evils for? Have they told you? Rodger, your voice matters. Don't lose yourself to their wants and desires just because they are seventeen, and you are one. Until you lose your self, your voice... that is when Brenda will truly be married to a dead man. I'd say something about the fact that you haven't told her, but... well, that'd be the pot calling the kettle black, I suppose. I lied to my wife, God rest her soul, and my elder son about my true nature for decades. I believe you've seen the fruits of that the other day at the registration office. But I knew why, and knew it was a good reason. Rodger, you are a wizard, there's no two ways about that. And part of being a wizard is, well, doing things that most people might consider distasteful because they need doing. But unless you know, and you don't seem to know, then you have no reason to stick your neck out for them." replied Mr. Gysbourne, doing his best to try to get Rodger to see why he shouldn't just 'go with the flow'.

Rodger met Oswald's eyes, listening carefully to his words.

"What do I need to learn in order to be a proper wizard? I don't know your customs, history, traditions... nothing of what Ozzy would have studied to get his license. I'm just a regular man who's been saddled with power I never wanted, a schoolteacher, children's entertainer, father, husband."

For the moment, he tried to focus on the part that he could deal with. Even though he knew that he couldn't put the rest off much longer, and would have to find some way to deal with it before he completely cracked up and went mad.