Wino (pronounced: we-no) stares at the wand on the countertop, then flicks a look at his best friend sitting on the couch. He doesn't want to push Ibrahim since it's been months since he's last touched his wand. He might actually let it go if he has enough time, thinks Wino. For now, it just sits on the countertop. And every day, Wino inches it closer and closer to the trashcan. He's hoping that one day, he'll knock it down there and Ibrahim won't notice either because he's moved on or simply won't care enough to do anything about it. Then I'll turn the wand into the police for him, give him the reward money to move on and make something of himself in this new world of ours. But for now, he'd just simply wait it out, measuring time by the inches.

Inside Wino's apartment, number 5050, left-wing of the new residential complex: The U. Ibrahim, his lifelong best friend remains where he is. Ibrahim's wand rests on the marble kitchen countertop behind him. Its gray core has no power flowing through it. He flicks through the channels of the TV with a dull-eyed look on his face and glaring at the screen. Wino sneaks his head around the corner of the door, peeking out from his room, analyzing the expression on his face from a distance. Ibrahim has been kind of down lately and appears rather grouchy, but Wino considers this a part of his transition. He'll get through this, he thinks.

Wino emerges from his room, into the little corridor and enters the adjacent living room. His striped socks graze over the oatmeal-and-raisin carpet, ruffling it as he shuffles past Ibrahim—and the wand—into the stone-walled, polished wood floor kitchen. He sparks the gas stove on. Ibrahim reels one arm over the couch and stares at some sitcom. The warm light stemming from outside the apartment dims as the evening breeze rushes upon the windowpanes. It's a soothing sunset outside.

Wino's struck by the glittering cityscape as it flickers in his periphery like a series of flashlights communicating across the towering concrete buildings. The hazy glints mimic a Morse code conversation. The lights of this apartment complex switch off and there's a stillness about the area. The complex is labeled The U cognizant of its U-shaped, ultramodern design. The two wings contain multi-unit dwellings while the center mass consists of a series of lobbies with showrooms topped by a glass-bodied, steel-framed sky bridge. The bubbling atmosphere scales the walls of The U; its audio leeches into his room. Transactions ring into earshot as youths patronize the shops that run along the inner walls of The U. They enclose the courtyard creating a mini shopping complex complete with exotic food stands and flamboyant entertainers. With his gaze reaching beyond the windowpanes, Wino ponders what a bird's eye view of The U would look like.

Suddenly, a loud crackle shatters the serenity of the evening, masking it beneath a surging storm. Ant-sized guests and residents glance about. The storm clouds swirl about a focal point, forming a whirlpool of frosty moisture. There's a loud call from above The U, a herald from the heavens. All gaze skyward in awe and wonder. Residents inside the apartments glance towards their windows as others throw them open, jutting their heads out. High in the sky, hovering atop a wide cruiser board minus the wheels is a lady. She's seated atop this decorated hoverboard with legs crossed at her knees. She has warm bronze skin, sleek in the moonlight, and dons a deep glittering purple blouse with a black skirt. Like a turtleneck, the shoulders and waist are exposed revealing her supple skin. She's wearing boots and fishnet stockings. Her yellow eyes gleam like a cat's against the night sky.

The lady screams, "Come on people! You don't have to give up. Magic isn't dead yet. We can't just give in to this. Let's make some noise. Let's have some fun!"

More people inside The U shuffle to their windows, some peer up from the sky bridge and windows of the walkways. Lights spark on from within their rooms. Wino curiously motions for his window while Ibrahim simply glances over his shoulder and then back to the TV – like he can't be bothered.

Eventually, the lady in the sky raises her arms conjuring a purple ball of light.

She shouts, "Don't worry, I'll take the first shot. I'll wake you up myself!"

She hurls the ball into the sky where it divides into individual violet missiles beaming towards the ground. They scatter and pummel the environment: fountains, sections of The U, and the distant cityscape. Colorful chairs scrape the clay-colored stone tiles as everyone leaps from their seats and scatter into the shops. Others scream that she's crazy and people in the hallways cower along the walls or run back into their rooms. Residents trample over one another in a scramble for shelter. The shops backup so much so that fleeing occupants are forced to scamper back into the hailstorm in search of alternative hiding places. An elderly man tumbles in the uproar while another guy, likely a resident, cowers to shield his fractured arm, wrapped in a caste from further injury. Screams fill the night sky echoing as they rise. Rubble rains down over the pavement from collapsing infrastructure. It sprinkles over the fallen, the weak and the helpless. The chaos stirs confusion. Some parts of The U, however, are untouched – for now at least. One such space is Wino's room.

Wino looks towards the window and calmly says, "Sounds like someone's using magic. It's been a while."

Ibrahim's eyes flash open as he changes the channel. Flickering over, it reads, 'Breaking News.' A suited newscaster comes online beside a live-streamed video of the maniacal witch in the sky.

The anchor says, "I'm not sure what's going on but it looks like the popular residential complex commonly known as 'The U' is under fire from yet another magician."

Out from the corner of Wino's eye, Ibrahim sits on the edge. He's unsettlingly focused.

They listen to the anchor continue, "We're not certain of the details, but we do have a live video coming from people inside the complex as we speak. Authorities have been notified of the illegal use of magic and have been dispatched. In the meantime, we're urging all residents to stay inside and lock their doors. All pedestrians need to find shelter."

Wino holds his silence over the matter while his gaze slithers from the TV down to Ibrahim. From an angle, behind Ibrahim's right ear, he determines that this fixation is genuine and there's some stimulation that's rarely been seen since Ibrahim moved in. Wino pivots back to the window.

"Well, the General will get to her and––"

A rumble builds and he whips around to see Ibrahim gunning for the door. It's flung open.

Instinctively, he barks, "Wait! Where are you going? Ibrahim!"

A glance to the kitchen countertop, reveals that the wand is gone and Wino gasps. "Oh no."

Behind him, beyond his windows and beneath the heavens, the witch projects an inferno of chaos, volleying blasts at random with no regard for the lives she's wrecking. It's a familiar sight. It reminds him of the days when he and Ibrahim used to travel the world and encounter these beings – these magicians. A smirk clearly lines her face, her eyes gleaming like moonlight over the ocean, and she energetically propels projectiles into the fleeing crowd. She feeds on their helplessness and basks in the madness. Her board twirls, exposing hoards of civilians to her sadistic terror. She's enthralled by her own violence.

The witch ecstatically barks, "Come on people, let's go back the way things were. Let's have some fun! Somebody's got to have magic, right? Who's with me?"

Wino sprints into the hall after Ibrahim. He bolts past frightened people in the hallways, shouting for him to stop. The witch's voice breaks past the plastered walls as they speed past them. Paintings, glass panels, and people blur out of sight. It's like riding a bullet train through a tunnel. Now, Wino's never been one to fly down the halls as fast as he can, but this fearless maniac might do something they both regret. Before Ibrahim can turn the corner and dart into the sky bridge, Wino tackles him. The galaxy-carpeted hallway spins. Ibrahim's robe is in Wino's fist.

His back to the floor. Ibrahim growls, "What are you doing? Get off me!"

"You'll get yourself killed or arrested!" Wino retorts.

"We're supposed to stay inside."

Ibrahim tightens his face in response; the embers of his long last passion kindle in his heart. He glances into the sky bridge and spots the witch hovering in front of the glass. She's the one. She's his ticket out of this miserable lifestyle. She gazes down towards the courtyard as floodlights project a shadow upon the opposite glass panes of the bridge. The pair can only imagine what's happening.

A voice from the plaza projects, "Well, would you look at this? It's been a while since I've had any takers."

Wino and Ibrahim are silenced by the boisterous projection of this voice. This newcomer draws the attention of all the onlookers, either directly from her voice or indirectly through the witch's gaze being drawn to the ground. All detect a lady in a militaristic police uniform standing in front of one of the shops. She wears a confident smile and a competitive demeanor. Her hands fold behind her waist as she plants her feet shoulder-width apart in a power stance. Her maroon jacket laced with white trim is adorned with badges arranged over her left breast. Scurrying into the plaza from her rear, foot soldiers of the police force weave into position, many of them checking on the people inside the shops while others take up defensive positions behind shattered concrete walls and toppled objects. The witch hovers in the air with a cocky grin upon her face.

She breaks the tension with an air of nonchalance, saying, "You must be the General."

This lady, this soldier, 'The General' responds, "And you must not be from here, otherwise you'd know this town is mine."

The witch sneers. "Oh? I don't see your name on it. This city belongs to the people who can run it– people with powers."

"People like you?"

"We handle things much better than you lot. Always have."

"Times change."

Atop Ibrahim, Wino glares at the witch with anxiety creeping upon his face from his racing heart. Like a child soon to be caught red-handed, his face is rife with anticipated guilt. She's the one that seized control during Ibrahim's stasis and took advantage of what societal stability Wino and Ibrahim had set in place. This lady is what allowed places like The U to develop by taming the magicians and restricting the flow of magic. This domestication of wild magicians is why Ibrahim has become so desperate for power. However, Ibrahim's few months with Wino leaves him unaware of what influence this woman commands and he can't be seen to stand against her – or else he risks lifetime imprisonment or even execution at her hand. It also means that if the witch can now best The General in front of all these people, the marginalized magicians who observe from the shadows will likely heed her call. Wino and Ibrahim, along with The U and the entire city, now watch as the two women eyeball one another mirrored enthusiasm.

Outside, the General commands, "Bring it in."

She twirls around, presenting her back to the crowd, The U, and the witch. Her subordinates roll in a creaking, steel container on a dolly. It plops onto the floor with a loud thud bellowing into the atmosphere. They stand it right next to the General. One soldier presents himself before the ominous container while others retrieve pieces from the steel crate and clip them onto him. They clasp these smooth, metallic armor plates onto his thighs, his forearm, and neck. They clamp elbow pads and a biker's helmet on top of his face, covering his eyes. It lights up with an orange "V" and he faces The General. He resembles a humanoid cyborg with very few crevices exposing his uniform beneath. In fact, the soldier has to twist and bend to reveal these openings. The General struts up to him as he faces her.

A subordinate says, "Chief, you know this is still under development?"

"I'm aware." She hums flicking particles from the uniform. "Just give it your best shot."

The man inside barks patriotically, "Yes, ma'am!"

He then turns to the witch and clenches his fists. The residents hold their breath, an eerie silence falling over the plaza. Subtle chattering creeps into the ambiance.

Wino wedges his palm into Ibrahim's shoulder mumbling, "What is that thing?"

Ibrahim groans, "Get off me," beneath him.

The bionic soldier leaps skyward. The witch throws herself back and evades his first attack, darting by like a spear. He flies up, catches on the sky bridge, cracking the glass near Ibrahim. The sight strikes the roommates, along with all the other onlookers of The U. The witch glares at the cyborg. Turning back at The General, the witch watches her shrug in immodest approval. The General wears an intimidating look upon her face, unwavering in confidence. She even permits a slight smirk to appear.

The super-soldier hunches on the steel frame of the glass sky bridge. He leaps, clutching at the witch. The witch dodges the man and throwing out her palm to blast him towards the concrete. There's a thunderous clap accompanied by a glint of violet light. The man plunges into a cloud of dust and rock like a meteor. His subordinates watch in horror reflexively drawing their guns at the witch. From the smoke and rubble, the suited man climbs to his feet, scrubbing his helmet like he has a headache.

The officer that warned the General comments, "It absorbed the impact!"

Astounded, the officers scan the sheer height of The U and look down to see the man standing.

"What's it made of? Is it magic?" the witch grumbles in the air.

The super-soldier rises to attempt another grab. He ricochets against the walls of the U trying to land a single hit. The witch outwits his every strike, evades bullets, and maintains eye contact with her nemesis. She's at a disadvantage and may have bitten off more than she can chew. The onslaught prevents her from retaliating. Its pressure is too great and her reflexes too sluggish to seize any opportunity. The cyborg makes for her thigh and is repelled onto the sky bridge. He skids to a halt, cracking the glass as he slows. He glances into the bridge for a moment before taking off again.

Ibrahim breaks from Wino's grip. He throws him onto his back and runs towards the sky bridge.

Wino screams, "What are you doing? You'll get yourself killed."

Ibrahim stomps inside the bridge, flailing his arms to signal the witch. Wino waits, his leg frozen at the connection between the bridge and the west wing of The U. He whispers for Ibrahim to stop. Onlookers watch them and must wonder what role they play. This puts Wino at a loss as to how to quell this sudden inferno within Ibrahim. It's like Ibrahim's not scared of the General, her team, or even the super-soldier bouncing all over the place as if gravity doesn't exist. He just sees something in the witch and is desperately clutching to capture it. Wino can only hope this battle ends quickly so the two never meet. His gaze darts after his own beyond the glass of the bridge.

Outside The U, the witch dodges the super-soldier until she's snagged by her board. Drawn nearer, the soldier uses his fist to snap her board in two. He then motions to pummel the witch but she detonates her magic and they explode apart from each other. The soldier plummets to the ground while the witch is flung through the shattered glass into the sky bridge. A small section splatters inside, leaving a hole with jagged cracks all around it like a cracked windshield.

The witch struggles to her knees, squirming like a snail slathered in salt. She glances up from the shard-stained carpet and makes eye contact with Ibrahim. She scans his face. He's holding his wand, an artifact clenched within his fingers. Her pupils glitter with crystalline specks that twinkle like charred wood held over a crackling flame. They dance about as if suspended within fluid. Suddenly, the witch's eyes flash violet. Wino catches a glimpse from a glass chunk as, unbeknownst to him, Ibrahim's eyes reflect the flash. Ibrahim acts as though he feels nothing but slowly reaches out his wand with the same expression. It's not often that Ibrahim is this serious but he acts like he wants this more than anything. The witch smirks in return and lifts her fingers towards him.

The two draw closer, almost intimate in their approach, until the super-soldier barks, "Hey! You stay away from him! Don't you touch him!"

The soldier is on the ground and his suit sparks like an exposed power line plopped into a lake. He appears to have taken no damage from the fall, despite bouncing around and being blasted with magic. The suit is foolproof to any scratches or breaks, but it must have absorbed too much internal stress and is collapsing. The glass that covered the super soldier's face, the visor, has chipped. Sparks fly from some of the joints, including his shoulders and ankles, as he proceeds up the plaza. His motion is rigid and stiff as if he battles with rust.

Another officer calls out, "The suit's had it. It's falling apart. Time to take it off."

Soldiers rush to their subordinate, ripping the pieces off of him and helping him to a resting position while the man wrestles with them, eager to resume his fight with the witch. Wino watches from the entrance of the sky bridge, too timid to enter. He thinks, I never knew his passion for magic was this strong. I almost feel sorry for him, like a lost dog searching for its old home in this new world. The steel frames obscure his vision. They look like figurines, and he can't hear the intricacies of their conversation, but he can imagine what they're saying.

The fallen soldier glances towards the General. "Sorry chief."

She stands beside him, never having moved. "No, don't worry about it. I think you've proven my point," she says while gazing up to the witch on the sky rail. A voice buzzes into The General's ear as a red led bulb flickers on like a ruby-studded earring.

A voice chimes in saying, "I've got visual on the target chief. Tell me when to take the shot."

"Shoot, whenever you're ready," the General replies with her focus centered on the bridge. Back in the sky bridge, Wino chews nervously on his nails, nearly muffling his mouth. He wants to scream for him to stop but Ibrahim in unresponsive like a stubborn cat marching undisturbed by its caretaker's concern. Wino has no idea why Ibrahim is trying to make contact with this woman who is clearly a criminal standing against some of the best in the world. He considers fleeing the scene, grabbing Ibrahim and running away or some alternative to this unfolding crisis. Scenarios unravel in his mind's eye at blistering speeds however none of them end well. Truth be told, Ibrahim is going do as he pleases and, right now, that's contacting this witch who stretches out towards him. Her finger and his wand are about to touch when the witch snaps her head to the dense, dark city surrounding The U. From one apartment building a glare grows brighter and brighter. The witch pulls back from Ibrahim and steps away from the hole in the sky bridge, her gaze fixated on something in the distance. Ibrahim holds his wand in desperation – just charge it he urges. He's inching closer to make contact when the distant glint of light suddenly flashes into a streaming bolt that whips across the night sky. It crashes into the sky bridge and unlike the cracks the witch caused on one end, this one burns a clean oval through the glass bridge. The bolt snaps across, yanking the wide-eyed witch out with it. She's flung outside and hurls towards the ground.

Ibrahim jumps up and runs to the hole shouting, "No! Damn it!"

He's leaning so far forward it's as if he wants to dive after her. Ibrahim, the police force, onlookers and Wino watch in awe as the witch spirals out of control and plunges to the ground. Like others that have stood against The General, that should be the last of her – Wino hopes.

The General casually turns to her soldiers standing around and commands, "Well, that was fun. Alright, let's round her up."

Her officers squad up into 5 and 6-man teams jogging off to capture the defeated magician.

From the sky bridge, Wino creeps up behind Ibrahim, maintaining a safe distance and glancing towards the shard-smothered carpet.

Wino calmly asks," Is she gone?"

He makes sure not to insult the solemnity of the moment. Ibrahim doesn't answer at first. His gaze is lost within the smoke-filled area that she fell into. When the dust clears, the witch isn't there. She hit the floor–or something–hit the floor but she's not a part of the remains. He grits his teeth and glances back through the other hole at the General, standing before a couple of soldiers who are checking on the vitals of the super-soldier now that his suit is off. He may peg her his enemy. What am I going to do? I didn't even know he still cared about magic like this. What if she saw him? What if she saw me? Is keeping Ibrahim around even worth it?

His attention centers on The General and her unyielding confidence. Questions ping-pong through Wino's mind while the rail gun sniper steps up to the General. Her hair in a bun and pinned by a silver needle, a black mask shielding her nose and mouth. She bears a long rifle that is slightly taller than herself. Lights gradient along the barrel as it hovers over the ground, its body pressed into her torso. She's a short woman, probably standing at five foot six with a smaller array of badges lining her breast. She dawns a sash and is using both arms to carry her weapon.

One of the 5-manned squads returns; its leader reports, "Target is not at the crash site sir," drawing a disapproving look from the sniper but the cool calculating attention of the General.

The General turns to the sniper and asks," Did you miss?"

The sniper frowns. She casts a blank stare over the rubble-cluttered ground. "No, the witch moved the shot from her left ventricle to her outer rib. She won't get far though."

The General turns to the officer and commands, "Check again. She's likely in hiding like the rest."

The soldiers don't find the witch this evening. Ibrahim and Wino return to the apartment. They avoid the gargantuan elephant in the room thanks in part to Wino's timidity and conflict-averse nature, but also thanks to Ibrahim's unresponsive attitude. Officers climb each floor of The U, checking on residents and escorting those in need of aid to emergency rooms. Wino retracts into his room and listens as the city falls quiet. Ibrahim's thoughts and actions are lost to him. His door remains shut throughout the evening.

***

The next day, the sun hasn't fully risen yet, neither has the moon surrendered the nighttime. Wino marches out from his room dawning his business casual work attire – complete with his timeless, diamond-studded silver watch. It's a gift from his romantic partner. He glances at the floor covered with clothing and trash but he simply pops over it, frolicking into the kitchen past the living room and all-white dining table. Here he twirls a golden slab of farm produce over a non-stick pan. It bubbles and sizzles under his simple smile making sure to monitor the heat and his noise. He guides the smooth release of his toast from the toaster, pours boiling water into his teacup marked "Cheryl" and has everything set. Finally, he sits down in front of his huge windowpanes.

Wino emits a relieving, "Ahh, what a beautiful day."

They're full-sized glass panels with an electric curtain opened midway - similar to hotels. They line the wall opposite the front door between his room and the kitchen. He sits back and casts out his gaze basking in the morning calm. There's a nice breeze pressing against them, few birds chirping and a tall crane whose neck hovers near the skybridge – but no workers are present. He gazes dreamily over the landscape maintaining that easygoing smile of his.

"I could stare at this forever."

Eventually, Wino grabs his suitcase and makes his way downstairs. Outside, he stands street side where a fancy double-decker, ruby red bus rolls by and swings open for him. He reveals a card that has The U's design, scans and walks into the bus while it closes behind him. He takes a seat within the luxurious bus, a spacious chair with legroom. Few others occupy the bus exemplifying its exclusivity. Wino's whole life is meticulously assembled: a well-paying high-leveled job, a loving girlfriend and a bustling city on the path to revitalization.

Back inside his room, the clock swirls from 7:15 all the way up to noon. The workers have shown up and start hammering, knocking, drilling and generating a cacophony of screeching noise just along the skybridge. At first, they drill but there's no response from within the apartment, then they clasp steel beams together, and a bundle of cloth – like a sleeping bag begins to squirm over the sofa. They hammer away, it squirms, they make noise, it wiggles more and soon it begins to moan. The heavy drilling starts and then Ibrahim flings off his blanket and sits up. He squeezes his facial muscles and appears miserable unlike Wino hours before.

"Someone ought to put your head under that drill," he complains.

He flops up and over to the window wearing nothing but boxers. His arms pull apart, opening up to The U. He stands groggily scratching his self with bags hanging beneath his eyes before slumping into the bathroom. A flush and Ibrahim marches into Wino's room. He reemerges with Wino's now stolen sleeping robe draped over him.

In the kitchen, Ibrahim flings open the fridge and squats to gaze inside. Ripe fruit and moist vegetables beading with sweat fill the trays. He searches the shelves, scanning for anything remotely edible for him to eat. In the end, Ibrahim retrieves one small yogurt from the corner and plops a seat at the dining table. The sunlight stings as he groggily gazes down at the pathetic cup he now has to call a meal. What a dramatic fall he's endured from magical grace to a bottomfeeder. A glance into the sunlit courtyard reveals a jubilant crowd of residents and guests attending one of the weekly open house events hosted by The U. Tour guides march streams of starry-eyed attendees throughout the complex.

"Weird."

What's he to make of this sight? Prior to stasis, Ibrahim's magical hibernation, homes were a place of refuge; where one could rest one's head, away from the piercing eyes of the wicked magicians that ruled. In fact, communal homes used to be a common sight.

He says, "It's like they're going to see a parade."

Back in the day, people surrendered personal gain for the benefit of the community – a calculated move towards the preservation of self-interest. Others scavenged, taking whatever the strong left behind and pillaging from the weak and this included living quarters. Now, they're a luxury investment tiered by their degrees of perceived comfort. Ibrahim basks in this pinnacle of comfort, a spacious apartment quartered all to himself and afforded by a friend who has everything he could ever want. And this friend, Wino, has achieved all this without Ibrahim. In this world, with picturesque horizons and glittering skylines, there's nothing Ibrahim has to offer him anymore. He might as well return to sleep.

One glass office towers amongst equals within the bustling downtown. The cityscape is rather gray; tall buildings lining the streets, avenues, and boulevards chockfull of lifeless people walking down concrete sidewalks with little eye contact, rising puffs of nicotine, and faces in phones. It's places like these that transform The U into the shining apartment on the hill. It explains why it's so gratifying to those occupying it and ideal for those who aren't. The U is green and lively, the people there act like they're cut from a different fabric, like they reside within the bounds of a foreign country: they smile and laugh, stroll throughout the complex and smell the ornamental roses and sunflowers, they lounge outside and bask in the afternoon sun. Most have arrived at the conclusion that those who run The U, aught to run the city. In comparison to the complex, there's a bounty of old apartments, dilapidated corner stores, and shops. Those still in service are overdue for renovation and the infrastructure in dire need of a makeover. City residents don't like to look up at the buildings, it's like they're factories and the people can't shake their oppressive aura. Most slave away in these buildings trying to make some money and some of them are trying to make it big in this city. Some do, some don't and it's a cold place. In one tall building with glass panels and steel frames at all four corners, there are different businesses and things going on.

Way up in one office space is Wino's desk. He's not a big-shot executive, but he's definitely climbing the ladder and gets paid well enough to live a happy life at The U. He's merrily seated at his desk accompanied by three monitors and a stack of documents neatly spread out in front of him. Wino bounces back and forth, checking his emails and fine-tuning document details, when he detecs some pictures tucked into the corner. One displays him and this lady smiling with each other and taking a selfie. They're on a ski trip and hugging each other cheek-to-cheek. The next picture is of her wearing a sunny yellow dress, denim jacket, and a hat with a feather in it, smiling towards the camera. Wino's deep brown eyes dilate while looking at her mint green eyes. His thumb brushes over the image as he thinks, Man, how'd I get so lucky to have you? He smiles back into the pictures when his phone buzzes. He flips it over and sees:

"1 Message From Cheryl

It reads, "Are we still set for dinner tonight?"

He replies, "Time?"

"8?"

"Kk"

"♡"

Wino gazes into his phone with a smile. His attention pops over to her pictures to match a face to the emotions bubbling in his chest.

It's been almost 2 years since Ibrahim froze his magic to sleep in perfect stasis. Since then, Wino's moved into The U and a few months later, met Cheryl. They've been dating for over a year now and have seriously considered moving in together. However, there was just one issue: the vacancy was filled and unlike The U, it went to a non-applicant. Wino's watch buzzes. He snatches his suitcase and heads for the door. Time to head home for the day, he thinks.

Wino's door clicks before sliding open to his apartment. Ibrahim and a woman calmly sit in the living room. Ibrahim is on the main couch, facing the TV while the lady is seated at the dining table in the corner. They both glance over to Wino as he scans the room.

Cheryl calmly greets him, "Welcome back." with her chin in her hand. Cheryl was born in the city, down a lineage of travelers whose roots stem all the way from the islands. She has short dirty blond-brown hair cut in a classic bob that cuffs around her neck and a toned musculature running from her shoulders down to her plump calves.

Ibrahim faces the screen while stating, "Good, you're here. Now take her to your room and keep her busy. I'm watching TV."

Inside his room, Cheryl closes Wino's door behind them as Wino stumbles to his bed. His spacious room is minimalistic with a cool navy blue complemented by wood accent furniture. He has electric curtains and a long shelf opposite his bed, simulating a fireplace on its LCD screen. He drops his keys on the distressed wood countertop next to his bed and sits down.

He looks up and sees Cheryl standing with her arms crossed in front of him. "Here we go."

She asks, "So, when are you gonna kick him out?" Wino huffs in response as she continues, "Because this guy is just a jerk. He's a jerk to you, he's a jerk to me, he's just a jerk to everyone he sees. I understand you guys had some beautiful history together; rode ponies, kissed babies, met under the mistletoe, but this is ridiculous. He doesn't work. He doesn't cook. He doesn't even clean. In fact, he makes a mess, insults us, and orders you around. I mean–" Wino turns his head away from her, towards the LCD fireplace that's currently turned off. She continues, "We were supposed to move in together but–" and the door slides open.

Ibrahim calls, "Wino," prompting Wino to pick his head out of his hands. Ibrahim says, "Gimme a five, wouldja? I haven't eaten all day."

Wino scrambles onto his bed, through his blazer for his wallet. Cheryl folds her arms, facing the nightstand while Ibrahim stands next to her. There's a thick tension between them that makes Wino scramble faster. He whips out a five, Ibrahim promptly swipes it from him and strolls out. Cheryl glares at Ibrahim's back and he glances back at her just before sliding the door closed.

Outside the room, Ibrahim slides on some moccasins while listening to Cheryl complain, "And what was that? You just gave it to him?"

Cheryl just doesn't understand.

"Back when Ibrahim and I were traveling the world together," Wino pleads, "Ibrahim did things that I could never payback. He gave me food when we were broke, clothes and a place to sleep when we were in strange towns and empty places. Ibrahim took care of things, no questions ever asked. Ibrahim never complained about having to take care of me."

"And that's why you can never muster the strength to tell him no or to take a hike?"

"I've tried to talk to him but–"

"But he never listens."

"Yeah." "That's why I said to kick him out. Stand up for yourself Wino. We don't live under them anymore, y'know. We don't have to fear magicians. We have The General now. Ibrahim is just too stubborn. He doesn't back down and constantly pushes the bounds of your rules."

The living room door closes. Wino sinks his head between his shoulders. It's another wasted attempt at addressing the intricacies of Cheryl's request. Together, he and Ibrahim have saved the world together, twice. In untold stories lost to the ages. They journeyed across inhospitable expanses and battled villainous magicians, witches, and wizards at a time when access to magic distinguished the rulers from the ruled. But now, Wino needs a way to control Ibrahim, or else he may risk losing Cheryl.

It's about 6 pm, and Cheryl has left in a bad mood, but hopefully, she'll be in a better mood for the dinner date they're having tonight. Wino is just hoping it's not going to be another evening where Ibrahim the main topic. He constantly worries for his friend, contemplating the time required for Ibrahim to fully assimilate into society as an average individual and no longer a blessed hero. More importantly, will Cheryl exercise enough patience for Wino to see this process to its completion?

Outside, Ibrahim strolls across the central plaza or The U. He mumbles to himself, "Stupid cow. I'd turn her into a goat if I just had magic." Ibrahim crosses the major street – Ménage Boulevard – into the city side where the gray businesses and rusty apartments shroud him in a maze of concrete. Another major street – Capone Street – and he'd be at the business center where Wino works.

***

Later, Ibrahim has his dinner in a plastic bag and walks down a dark street. Most of the light stems from the second-story windows but people have cheap plugins to lower their rent. There are some people dressed in tattered rags and dingy garments occupying the streets, some hunched on the curbs, and others wandering the tight alleyways between the buildings. Ibrahim tucks his head into his chest and weaves about the occupants like an obstacle course.

His mind wanders, "Man, all these people look so sketchy. If my wand were charged, I'd walk this street naked and dare someone to touch me."

He keeps his wand well into his pants, where his back pocket would be. After the incident the other night, it's resurfaced more and more upon his person. It rests upon his skin secured by the waistband to his shorts. At times, the tip pokes outside his shirt but he adjusts it close to himself and never migrates without it.

This clearly draws Wino's attention but thankfully, the guy's too timid to gather his thoughts and even more so vocalize them. His other half, on the other hand, has ample courage but wants to see Wino do it. She's a naggy nuisance really and the sooner she buzzes off with her defiant attitude, the better it'll be for them – at least in Ibrahim's eyes. Wino thinks, these city dwellers now feel like they run the world all because they have The General to inflate their ego with her protectionist agenda. She prioritizes humans above magicians which isn't a solution, it just reverses the problem. But what else can you expect from a human who seizes untold power?

Ibrahim walks past some five-stair steps before a street-side porch and glances at some lady seated on stairs. She's wearing a royal purple skirt partly masked by a black jacket, grey hoodie underneath, and cowgirl boots. Her face is shrouded in darkness. He glances towards her and is met with a violet flash. He immediately turns away, unaware of the gleam his eyes display in response. Ibrahim strolls past her while she turns after him. A few more steps and suddenly his ear twitches and he detects a hand reaching for him, but more importantly for his wand. Scrolling up, Ibrahim takes a careful look at the courageous stranger's demeanor and instantly has a flashback. The witch on the bridge, the one who fought The General and was shot out of the sky; the one he almost made contact with while Wino protested. A smile slithers across her face now that he's remembered her. She mimics his eagerness minus the urgency expressed at the bridge – just let me take it. Ibrahim is starstruck. Time slows. He doesn't jerk away, but instead ponders: what could she want from him?

***

At one street-side restaurant, there's an outdoor veranda, with people moving about the adjacent corridor on and off the sidewalk. Cheryl and Wino sit beneath the redwood pergolas at a petite, pink table. There are potted plants at the four corners of the foot-high stonewall outlining the wood flooring. Cheryl glances out the corner of her eye at all the food moving in and out of the building as bussers carry trays bearing gourmet dishes sizzling as they come outside but empty-handed as they head back in. Wino follows her lead, eagerly pursuing the workers. Salivation creeps over his lips as his stomach gurgles before him.

"So," Cheryl asks. "Any plans this weekend?"

"Hmm?"

He faces her while she watches her straw stir a sunset orange drink.

"I was thinking. We should go somewhere. Get out of the city, y'know?"

Cheryl looks up at Wino. "That would be great but," he pauses. "I can't leave him there."

He did it, and he didn't want to. Usually, it's Cheryl and her complaining that brings Ibrahim into the equation but tonight it's supposedly Wino's turn. Cheryl doesn't take the bait, she looks back at the door and distracts herself with who's ordering what and how entrees crackle and pop above the black serving tray. Wino attempts to reignite the conversation but it's as if she's too intrigued to hear him.

"What're you doing?" His voice blurs into the ambiance and she fails to respond. Wino's heart falls to the table hovering over the plastic advertisements there. He fiddles with them as they wait for their orders to arrive. "Okay," he mumbles. "I'll talk to him."

***

From the alleyway, Ibrahim overhears the choir of voices stemming from around the street corner. He's a block away from the main road, Ménage Boulevard. He turns back as footsteps fade into the distance. the hooded witch, twirls away from him, with a smirk on her shrouded face. She marches into the darkness of the alleyway, with the streetlights dimming into a violet hue as she passes by. Her voice echoes softly from the alleyway.

She says, "Just don't forget. Now, you owe me."

Ibrahim's excitement falls onto his wand: a charcoal-toned, elongated mushroom formed of distressed wood variegated in its intricate golden lace patterns. The mushroom-capped scepter glows with a deep purple hue, embroidered with a swirling, but fragmented gold strip. He releases the plastic bag in his hand. It plummets to the floor and splatters all over the concrete. Rats, bugs, and onlookers make their way towards it. With his free hand, Ibrahim clenches the wand. His face brightens, as his lips stretch from ear to ear. His mouth gapes open as an energetic whimper echoes from him. Ibrahim huffs and puffs excitedly with the wand wedged between his two palms and his fingers caressing it.

"Finally," he says in a fit of hysteria. "I have it."

***

The next morning, the sun is shining. The base of the crane working at The U is taped off from pedestrians as construction workers maneuver supplies into position. Residents meander through the maze of traffic cones and yellow tape to get into the residence. Wino's room is quiet. He lies awake with his focus upon the ceiling. His mind ponders the cold shoulder Cheryl gave him last evening. It was a first for him and her words echoed within the chambers of his heart.

I said I'll talk to him. But, I barely got a word in last night. Ibrahim was so distracted and I was reluctant to bring it up anyways. I just mumbled to myself inside here. But now what do I tell Cheryl?

The front door clicks and swings open. Wino twitches towards the sound. His door splits from the frame as he peers towards it. His heart trembles at the thought of Cheryl appearing. No! I didn't tell him anything yet! He's still here! Wino thinks. Beyond the doorframe, Wino spots Ibrahim making his way out into the passageway.

Wino throws open his own door to call, "Ibrahim? Where are you going?" Ibrahim throws his head back.

"Food." In steps Cheryl, with eyes set on Wino, her cotton blouse fluttering past Ibrahim's satin robes. She makes for the dining table before coming to halt. Ibrahim continues, "It's not like I'm getting any breakfast here."

"What about Wino?" Cheryl asks.

"What about him? You're here, make yourself useful. Just try not to make too much noise,"

Ibrahim lowers his voice," the neighbors like to sleep in on Saturdays."

The front door closes behind him with Cheryl barking, "Jerk." Wino and Cheryl both stare at the door from Wino's room even as Ibrahim struts down the hallway. Cheryl turns towards Wino. "Did anything happen after we left last night?"

"Not really. He sat in the corner out there where I couldn't see him."

"And?"

"And there was something glowing out there."

"Something was glowing? Like...?"

"I don't know. But he's been very happy lately."

"That was happy?"

"That was something."

"Oh brother."

***

Downstairs, The U is hosting a continental breakfast in an indoor/outdoor restaurant across one of their ballrooms. Some seats are laid outside, in the center of the U where there's a makeshift park. Trees, wooden benches, a rocky water fountain and the walls of the exterior are lined with gift shops and other cafes.

Despite being the newest building on the block, The U spares no expense when it comes to advertising. They host guests, events and everything they can to fill those spaces. Despite their demand and supply being skewed towards demand, The U continues to display its major presence on the block. No space in the Uptown area, that is south side of Ménage Boulevard, compares to The U and management flaunts it. Their foyer and outside spaces are packed; some people stand and eat their meals while others sit on the rim of the water fountain hoping not to fall inside. Inside the cafe, there are lines for everything: juice dispensers, omelet line, waffle makers, and more. And Ibrahim, this pseudo-resident strolls past the lines, his hands in his pockets as he walks past empty seats. They're sterilized by the filtered sunlight as it crosses the finely stitched bamboo panes lining the glass wall, Ibrahim continues marching like he knows where he's going until he freezes. His eye catches a lady, seated alongside the sun-kissed wall, eating at a table by herself. He pulls up a chair and takes a seat. Across from Ibrahim sits a woman with thin strings of braided hair running down her spine. They're bundled by a golden bangle and rest against her fitted black shirt which is bunched up to cuffs at her forearms. Her sunset yellow eyes gaze on her plate of fruit. She uses her fork to poke, prod, and roll the grapes around before piercing one forcefully.

"You made it," the woman says, not looking towards the man across from her.

Ibrahim's smile from the evening before crawls across his lips.

"So how'd you like it?" she asks.

Ibrahim teeth shine when he responds, "Loved it."

The woman's eyes rise just enough to see his smile before returning to her meal. Smaller plates rest around her with scraps all over them.

"And what about your roommate?"

Ibrahim's smile collapses as his gaze climbs the window.

"Who cares what he thinks." He regains his confidence and looks straight at her, adding, "I just want my powers back."

"Does he use magic?"

"No. But screw him, how do you still have your powers?"

To this, the witch looks up, her brows furrowed. She silently stares at Ibrahim while he waits for an answer.

"What do you mean?" she asks. "I mean, how come you still have your powers?"

The witch's head pivots slowly as she processes his question. "No one else has their magic but you."

"Who told you?"

"I've only seen you use magic."

"Where are you from?"

***

In Wino's room, Cheryl sits by his bedside. His bedroom door is open granting her a view to the living room that she passes an inspecting glance to periodically. Wino lies flat with his arms to his side staring out at the sliver of the front door this angle provides as if someone may be listening. He shifts his gaze into the living room. The sun rays are like a curtain draped over the furniture. The quaint white dining table rests alongside the window pane. It looks like it belongs outside in the cafes. Two complimentarily. tiny chairs are tucked underneath. He recounts how his conversations with Ibrahim revealed a purple gleam stemming from Ibrahim's eyes. But yesterday evening, it seemed as if Ibrahim himself was unaware that it was happening. If anything was clear from his demeanor, it was that Ibrahim had made contact with something or someone and showed signs of magic aggregation. "I just don't get why you trust that guy." Cheryl groans. She stands up, gesturing with her hands. "Why don't you let him go? He's nothing but a burden to you now. He's changed." "It's because of him, I'm still alive. All the things he's done." Cheryl pauses quietly. She wanders by his bedside. Wino continues, "I just didn't know he'd rebound like this." "You thought he'd given up on magic." "He was just waiting." "Wino, what if The General finds out? What then?" Wino pretends to ponder it. This exact question, this scenario, is one he's suppressed for some time now, knowing that it cannot end well. "That's just the thing. I don't think Ibrahim really considers The General a threat even though he's seen what she can do."

***

Back at the cafe, the witch leans forward with a questionable expression on her face.

She asks, "You slept for over a whole year?"

Ibrahim responds, "Yeah, I kinda went into hibernation."

"You hibernate?"

"Recoil. It's a long story but I went to sleep after our last journey. The magic usage took it all out of me and I enclosed myself within a crystal ball to recharge."

***

"A crystal ball?" Cheryl repeats Wino.

"And I didn't hear back from him until he showed up at my doorstep a year and a half later," Wino concludes.

Wino falls silent, his gaze resting on Cheryl — flabbergasted. Cheryl huffs forcefully, dropping her shoulders. She turns to Wino as the witch gazes at Ibrahim.

"So what now?"

"I don't know," Wino replies staring at the ceiling.

"Well," Cheryl says, "If he takes this too far you'll have to cut him off."

***

Ibrahim smirks, the light from the window splashing into his eyes. The reflection shines a golden brown like the fur of a golden retriever. The witch's cheek rises in reply.

She interlocks her fingers above her plate adding in a soft low tone, "Cus' you know what I want for loaning you my magic."

Her eyes flash from gold, like she's wearing contact lenses, to their signature violet. Suddenly, a deep purple hue pollutes Ibrahim's eyes and forms a tight ring just around his irises.

He responds, "The General."

The End