The beginnings of a new sunset made itself known, burning a sombre orange against the purple hidden behind waning clouds. The sunset from Corinth hill had a way of washing the pressure of reality away for but a fleeting moment, allowing one to gaze over the concentration of people and buildings with an often elusive detachment. The sunset lasted for mere moments, finally indicating to Kir it was time for him to make his way home. The return trip was occupied with far different emotions than his commute there. At this point Sable was still a relative unknown, of course his deeds were plain to see and his intentions, though still unresolved, were now being made clear. Even with that information, Kir had yet to meet the man, so much focus had been concentrated against a figure that was still an uncertainty.

Did he know the consequences of using the paragon matrix or did he not care? Had he somehow found a way to make its use feasible? Unlikely but still a possibility. And then there was the matter of Simmons' final comment and refusal to elaborate. Wizards are in general guarded over the spells that they have access to, listing the spells that they’re able to cast is akin to laying out their defences for all to see. As such Kir never really had a frame of reference for the progression of a wizard, his mother never shared her spell list before she kicked the bucket and his aunt had similarly passed before she could guide him any further. He acknowledged that his repertoire was overwhelmingly skewed towards low level spells, but was he damaging his mana core somehow? There was no chance he wasn’t returning for some elaboration.

Pinching the bridge of his nose Kir took a moment to try to push such thoughts to the back. Though admittedly that was like damming a river with legos, at this point worrying was something of an artform for him.

There’s often a comfort to be found in the recesses of a city, a faceless lack of identity that becomes inherently seductive. You can become no longer a person but another of the huddled masses among the neon signs. The sheer magnitude of workers trudging their way home in preparation of another day put the troubles of reality into perspective. The glow of speakeasies and thumping of nightclubs suggests the potential for fleeting companionship, though it fades by morning.

Kir dragged himself up the entrance of his building and made his way into the graffitied mess of an elevator. The lights flickered as it groaned, the small break alleviating the pain that had begun to rise in one of his wounds. Kir braced himself as the wards within his apartment washed over his mind and body, calming thought and numbing pain. The bed was a welcome sight as he lay down into the soft cloud of sheets hoping the next day might bring positive news.

***

Kir’s eyes snapped open as he jolted upright, one of the perimeter wards had been tripped. Kir focused on the location, an unknown caster used a spell in the hallway. Kir scrambled off his bed and over to the door, looking through the peephole. First inspections showed an empty hallway, but upon shifting his view slightly it revealed Damiens door looked to have been blown off its hinges. A pit appeared in Kir’s stomach, guilt compelling him to swing open his door and rush into his apartment, not before grabbing an item from his desk.

Damien’s apartment was a sight to behold, not the interior designing he had unexpectedly good taste, but the gored corpse on the ground definitely drew the eye. Though perhaps the more noticeable focal point was the three figures scuffling violently. One, taller than the others, held the other against a wall while the third was nursing a gushing wound on his arm.

“Why are you searching for me?” the tall one interrogated, trying to keep his raising voice to a whisper.

There were no lights on but from the ambient luminescence Kir could see the one against the wall was Damien. His eyes had gone entirely red and his face contorted in animalistic snarls. The tall figure slammed him against the wall again. Damien was staring down the man, taking the chance to spit the blood of his colleague on his face. The man wiped it away with his hand, letting a slight chuckle escape from his lips.

“Fine” he smiled, gathering a ball of energy into his hand.

This flung Kir into action, he yelled for them to stop, gaining their attention. All three figures turned to him, furious at the interloper. Noticing his cue, Kir reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a handgun.

“Get out!” He demanded.

Though his stance was less than experienced, the tone of his voice indicated a ready willingness to pull the trigger. The injured man went to rush forward, but was halted by a shout from what seemed to be his superior. He was understandably on edge, doesn’t matter how talented of a wizard you are, unprepared, a bullet outpaces a spell everytime. People would absolutely bring them into shards if they could.

“Alright, no need to get all riled up” The man said, letting go of Damien.

He put his hands in the air and signaled for the other to do the same. The man held the confidence of someone who felt they always held control over a situation, a terrifying thing. The man's identity was painfully obvious judging from his interrogation of Damien. The two stood in silence for a moment. This was the first time he had any face time with this figure, better make it count. Kir took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, searching for the right words.

“It won’t work”

Sable frowned, confused at the comment.

“I’m sorry? What won’t?”

“The Animation Paragon, it won’t work”

Sable's demeanor quickly changed, his initial nonchalance all but wiped away.

“How do you know about that?” His tone of voice dropped.

The adrenaline in Kir’s body began to hit even harder, the thumping of his heartbeat almost deafening him.

“All that matters is that I do. I’m telling you it won’t work” Kir brandished the weapon a bit more as Sable seemed to become less interested in it, thankfully he went back on the defensive. Staring down the barrel of a gun had that effect on people.

“Ah, I see, you’re the one looking for me” Sable was able to regain his composure and went to gain control of the conversation's direction.

“Yes I am, and if you’re willing to help me, I’m willing to end this without bloodshed” Kir nodded, offering an exit ramp to this scenario.

“You seem to have misread this situation, the second you pointed that thing at me, any chance at diplomacy went up in smoke” Sable responded with a scowl.

Kir remained silent but made no visible expression, at this point anything he said would be too revealing. He was in the process of making an enemy and at this point it was unsalvageable. Kir made the mistake of thinking this was a rational person. One that he wouldn’t make again. After his confirmation of the beginnings of conflict, Sable got a glint in his eye and began to cast a spell. Kir recognized it not to be harmful or dangerous so he let him complete it. Not that he had much of a choice. As he completed the gesture a spectral doorway appeared on the wall, beyond it an ever shifting void of purple and red.

“Prepare yourself” he finished with a smile, stepping out of the portal, his underling scrambling to follow behind.

Kir relaxed as the spell ended, dropping the weapon by his side, it was only now he noticed the tidal wave of sweat that developed on his lower back. Damien shook his head, the physical deformities receding into his skull.

“You have a gun!? Why the fuck didn’t you shoot him?!” A slight tone of irritation in his voice. Kir let out a sigh and an embarrassed smile as the gun in his hand shimmered slightly, the illusion fading, revealing nothing more than a black fountain pen.

It was easier to make the illusion seem more realistic if there was a physical object to map it to, not to mention if it was slightly brighter in the room Sable probably would’ve been able to see right through it.

“Follow me” Kir gestured, but Damien shook his head.

“Give me a minute, god this better be one amazing favour” he sighed, nursing a stab in his right side and getting down on his knees.

Kir noticed Damien’s proximity to the corpse by his feet.

“You might not want to watch this part”.

Kir nodded and did a swift turn into his apartment, slamming his door shut.

His first interaction with the man, but something felt off. Why did he look so... normal? Brown hair, brown eyes, average height in a shirt and jeans. This man who had united the city's underworld and brought its most powerful crime family to its knees. Supposedly an incredibly powerful spellcaster, but still so average in appearance. Kir shook his head, there was always that saying about books and covers or something.

An hour passed, Kir almost falling asleep in the interim. Though eventually there was a knocking at the door as Damien entered in new clothes without a speck of blood on him. Kir went to apologise but was interrupted the moment he opened his mouth.

“So I checked in with a local nest, who had heard from a coven, who had heard from a junkie, who had heard from their dealer's girlfriend that Crowley has a main production lab in the Hallowvale no man's land”

Kir nodded, understanding Damien didn’t want to hear any of it.

“How reliable is the information?”

Damien pursed his lips together and tilted his head while raising his eyebrows.

“Well judging from tonight's events, pretty damn reliable, when are we going?” Damien seemed to have a newly vested interest in this endeavour.

Kir looked off to the side, the longer Amber had to wait, the more potential damage there would be if, when she was healed. He wasn’t going to become an archmage overnight so there was no real point dragging it out.

“Tomorrow” He claimed, no sense of hesitation in his voice.

“Reckon your wounds will by then huh?” sarcasm dripping from the question.

“Well the good thing about being a wizard is that range of movement isn’t all that important”

Kir mage handed his phone off his desk and sent off a few texts before putting it down, not expecting a response at three in the morning. There was a wave of guilt rising from the back of his head, but at this point he needed all the help he could get. If there was a time to be selfish. It was now.

“I hope you don’t mind if I invite a few friends”

Damien shrugged, grateful for the help.