Outside The U, the Witch dodged the super-soldier until he snagged her board. Drawn nearer, the soldier punched her board in two. He then motioned to pummel the Witch, but she detonated her magic. They exploded apart from each other. The soldier fell while the Witch flew through the shattered glass into the sky bridge. A small section splattered inside, leaving a hole with jagged cracks.
The Witch struggled to her knees, squirming like a snail slathered in salt. She peered up from the shard-stained carpet to make eye contact with Ibrahim. She scanned his face. He held his wand, an artifact clenched within his fingers. Her pupils glittered with crystalline specks––a signature of magic flowing through her arteries. They twinkled like charred wood held over a crackling flame. They danced about as if suspended within fluid.
Suddenly, the Witch's eyes flashed violet. Wino caught a glimpse from a glass chunk as, unbeknownst to him, Ibrahim's eyes reflected the flash. Ibrahim acted as though he felt nothing. He slowly extended his wand. It's not often that Ibrahim is this serious, but he acted like he desired this power more than anything. The Witch smirked agreeably in return and lifted her fingers towards him.
The two drew nearer, almost intimate in their approach, until the super-soldier barked, "Hey! You stay away from him! Don't you touch him!"
The soldier stumbled over the ground. His suit sparked like an exposed power line plopped into a lake. He suffered no damage from the fall, despite bouncing around and being blasted with magic. The suit was foolproof. It shined like a freshly buffed car, but must have absorbed too much internal stress and was collapsing. The "V" screen that covered the super soldier's face, the visor, chipped. Sparks flew from the joints. His rigid motion stiffened, as if he battled with rust.
Another officer called out, "The suit's had it. It's falling apart. Time to take it off."
Soldiers rushed to their subordinate, ripping the pieces off of him and helping him to a resting position. The man wrestled with them. He resisted, eager to resume his fight with the Witch.
The fallen soldier hung his head in failure. "Sorry chief."
The General stood beside him, never having moved. "No, don't worry about it. I think you've proven my point."
A voice buzzed into The General's ear, as a red LED bulb flickered on like a ruby-studded earring.
A voice chimed. "I've got visual on the target chief. Tell me when to take the shot."
"Shoot, whenever you're ready," The General replied with her focus centered on the bridge.
***
Wino inched into the sky bridge. His timidity halted his advance. He thought, I never knew Ibrahim's 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 obscured his vision. The magicians looked like figurines. If only he could hear their conversation, but what would they discuss? Wino chewed nervously on his nails. He nearly muffled his mouth. He wanted to scream for Ibrahim to stop, but Ibrahim was unresponsive like a stubborn cat. Wino wondered how Ibrahim could side with a criminal standing against some of the best in the world. He considered fleeing the scene. Perhaps, he could grab Ibrahim and run away? Scenarios unraveled in his mind's eye at blistering speeds, however none of them end well.
Truth be told, Ibrahim did as he pleased and, right now, that was contacting this Witch who stretched out towards him. Her finger and his wand were an inch apart, when the Witch snapped her head to the dense, dark city surrounding The U. From one apartment building, a glare grew brighter and brighter. The Witch reeled back from Ibrahim and fell away from the hole in the sky bridge. Her gaze fixated on something in the distance. Ibrahim held his wand with desperation – just charge it he urged. He inched closer to make contact, when the distant glint of light suddenly flashed into a streaming bolt. It whipped across the night sky, crashed into the sky bridge and snapped across, yanking the wide-eyed Witch out with it. She flew outside and hurled towards the ground.
Ibrahim sprung up. He ran towards the hole shouting, "No! Damn it!"
He leaned in so far that he nearly dived after her. The Witch spiraled out of control and plunged to the ground. Like others that stood against The General, she failed to lay a single scratch before falling to her death.
The General casually turned to her soldiers. "Well, that was fun. Alright, let's round her up."
Her officers bundled up into 5 and 6-man teams. They jogged off to capture the defeated magician.
From the sky bridge, Wino crept up behind Ibrahim. He maintained a safe distance, glancing towards the shard-smothered carpet.
" Is she gone?" Wino asked. He made sure not to insult the solemnity of the moment.
Ibrahim didn't answer at first. His gaze fell within the smoke-filled area. The dust cleared with time and the Witch disappeared. She hit the floor–or something–hit the floor, but her remains fled. He grit his teeth and turned back through the other hole at the General. She stood before a couple of soldiers who checked on the vitals of the super-soldier. This woman, this General foiled his once in a lifetime opportunity.
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?
Questions ping-ponged through Wino's mind while a rail gun-bearing sniper stepped up to the General. Her hair sat in a bun pinned by a silver needle. A black mask shielded her nose and mouth. She bore a long rifle that was slightly taller than herself. A gradient of lights ran along the barrel as it hovered over the ground. Its body pressed into her torso. She stood at Ibrahim's height with a smaller array of badges lining her breast. She dawned a sash and straddled her rifle using both arms.
One of the 5-manned squads returned. Its leader reported, "Target is not at the crash site sir." He drew a disapproving look from the sniper but the cool calculating attention of the General.
The General asked," Did you miss?"
The sniper frowned. She cast 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 commanded, "Check again. She's likely in hiding like the rest."
The soldiers never found the Witch that evening. Ibrahim and Wino returned to their apartment, number 5050, left-wing of the residential complex. They avoided the gargantuan elephant in the room thanks in part to Wino's timid and conflict-averse nature, but also thanks to Ibrahim's unresponsive attitude. Officers climbed each floor of The U. They checked on the residents and escorted those in need of aid to emergency rooms. Wino retracted into his room. He listened as the city fell quiet. Ibrahim's thoughts and actions were lost to him. His door remained shut throughout the evening.
***
The next day, the sun hadn't fully risen yet, neither had the moon surrendered the nighttime. Wino walked out from his room dawning his business casual work attire––complete with his timeless, diamond-studded silver watch. His romantic partner gifted it to him. He popped over the litter that dotted the carpet. He frolicked into the kitchen, past the living room and all-white dining table. Here, he twirled a golden slab of farm produce over a non-stick pan. It bubbled and sizzled under his simple smile. He made sure to monitor the heat and his noise. He guided the smooth release of his toast from the toaster, poured boiling water into his teacup marked "Cheryl" and had everything set. Finally, he sat down in front of his huge triple windowpanes.
He relaxed. "Such a beautiful day."
Full-sized, electric glass panels opened midway. They mirrored the hotel industry's standard. These panes lined the wall opposite the front door between his room and the kitchen. He reclined and basked in the serenity of this morning's calm. A gentle breeze pressed against them as birds chirped. A tall crane sat in the middle of the courtyard. Its neck hovered near the sky bridge––but no workers were present.
"I could stare at this forever."
Eventually, Wino grabbed his suitcase and made his way downstairs. Outside, he waited street side until a fancy double-decker, ruby red bus rolled by. It swung open for him. He displayed a card stamped with The U's design, scanned it and walked into the bus. He sat in a spacious chair with ample legroom. Few others occupied the bus, exemplifying its exclusivity. The engine hummed as it sped off. It made for the busy city center where Wino secured a high paying job. The city climbed its steady trajectory towards revitalization and earned its title as a Humans paradise.
Back inside his room, the clock swirled from 7:15 all the way up to noon. The construction workers arrived and start hammering, knocking, drilling. Their work generated a cacophony of screeching and rattling. Vibrations danced along the sky bridge.
At first, they drilled but no response stemmed from within the apartment, then they clasped steel beams together, and a bundle of cloth––like a sleeping bag began to squirm over the sofa. They hammered away, it wiggled more and moaning climbed into earshot. The heavy drilling started and then Ibrahim flung off his blanket. He sat up. He squinted tightly and balled the blanket in his fists.
"Someone ought to put your head under that drill," he complained.
He flopped up and over to the window wearing nothing but boxers. His arms spread apart, opening up to The U. He stood groggily, scratching his self with bags hanging beneath his eyes before slumping into the bathroom. A flush and Ibrahim wandered into Wino's room. He reemerged with Wino's now stolen sleeping robes draped over him.
In the kitchen, Ibrahim threw open the fridge. He squatted curiously. Ripe fruit and moist vegetables beading with sweat filled the trays. He searched the shelves, scanning for anything remotely edible for him to eat. In the end, Ibrahim retrieved one small yogurt from the corner and plopped a seat at the dining table. The sunlight stung as he groggily gazed down at the pathetic cup he now had to call a meal. What a dramatic fall he'd endured from magical grace to a bottom feeder.
Within the courtyard, a jubilant crowd of residents and guests attended one of the weekly open house events hosted by The U. Tour guides led streams of starry-eyed attendees throughout the complex.
"Weird."
What was 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.
"It's like they're going to see a parade," he said.
Back in his 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 basked in this pinnacle of comfort, a spacious apartment quartered all to himself and afforded by a friend who had everything he could ever want. And this friend, Wino, had achieved all this without Ibrahim. In this world, with picturesque horizons and glittering skylines, there's nothing Ibrahim had to offer him anymore. Ibrahim might as well return to sleep.
***
One glass office towered amongst equals within the bustling downtown. The cityscape was rather gray; tall buildings lined the streets, avenues, and boulevards chockfull of lifeless people walking down concrete sidewalks with little eye contact. Puffs of nicotine rose while faces attached to their phones. It's lifestyles like these that uplift The U into the shining apartment on the hill. It explained why it's so gratifying to those occupied it and ideal for those who weren't. The U was green and lively, the people there behaved they resided within the bounds of a foreign country: they smiled and laughed, strolled throughout the complex and smelled the ornamental roses and sunflowers. They lounged outside and basked in the afternoon sun. Most arrived at the conclusion that those who ran The U, aught to run the city.
In comparison to the complex, a bounty of old apartments, dilapidated corner stores, and shops riddled the city blocks. City residents hated these buildings. These factories emanated an oppressive aura. Most slaved away in these buildings trying to make some money and some of them are tried to make it big in this city. Some did, some didn't.
Way up in one particular office space, Wino sat at his desk. His cubicle outsized and outclassed many of his peers. He rose high enough in rank to live happily at The U. He merrily bounced between his three monitors with a stack of documents neatly spread out before him. Wino swiveled back and forth. He checking his emails and fine-tuned document details, when he detected some pictures tucked into the corner. One displayed him with his partner smiling with each other. They attended a ski resort. Together they smiled, hugging each other cheek-to-cheek. The adjacent picture displayed her wearing a sunny yellow dress, denim jacket, and a hat with a feather in it. She posed for the camera. Wino's deep brown eyes dilated. His thumb brushed over the image as he thought, Man, how'd I get so lucky to have you? He smiled back into the pictures when his phone buzzed. He flipped it over and read: "1 Message From Cheryl <3"
"Are we still set for dinner tonight?"
He replies, "Time?"
"8?"
"Kk"
"♡"
Wino gazed into his phone with a smile. His attention popped over to her pictures to match a face to the emotions bubbling in his chest.
It'd been almost 2 years since Ibrahim froze his magic to sleep in perfect stasis. Since then, Wino moved into The U and a few months later, met Cheryl. They'd been dating for over a year now and seriously considered moving in together. However, there was just one issue: the vacancy was filled. Wino's watch buzzed. He snatched his suitcase and made for the door. Time to head home for the day, he thought.
Wino's door clicked before swinging open to his apartment. Ibrahim and a woman calmly sat in the living room. Ibrahim lounged on the main couch, facing the TV while the lady hunched over the dining table in the corner. They glanced over to Wino as he scanned the room.
Cheryl greeted him, "Welcome back." with her chin in her palm.
Cheryl was born in the city, down a lineage of travelers whose roots stemmed all the way from the islands. Her short, dirty blond-brown hair cuffed around her neck cut in a classic bob. Mint-green eyes and a toned musculature running from her shoulders down to her calves.
Ibrahim faced the screen. "Good, you're here. Now take her to your room and keep her busy. I'm watching TV."
Inside Wino's room, Cheryl shut Wino's door behind them as Wino stumbled to his bed. His spacious room was minimalistic with a cool navy blue complemented by wood accent furniture. His closed electric curtains lined the far wall. Crackling wood snapped opposite his bed, simulated by a fireplace on his LCD screen. He plopped his rattling keys on the distressed wood countertop next to his bed and sat down. He reluctantly faced Cheryl standing with her arms crossed in front of him.
"Here we go."
"So, when are you gonna kick him out?" Wino huffed as she continued. "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 turned away from her. The LCD fireplace turned off automatically.
She continued, "We were supposed to move in together but––."
The door slid open.
Ibrahim called, "Wino," prompting Wino to pick his head out of his hands. "Gimme a five, wouldja? I haven't eaten all day."
Wino scrambled onto his bed and through his blazer for his wallet. Cheryl tucked her arms into her chest, swiveling towards the nightstand. The thickening tension between them made Wino scramble faster. He whipped out a five. Ibrahim promptly swiped it and strolled out. Cheryl glared at Ibrahim's back and he glanced back in response just before sliding the door closed.
Cheryl snapped back towards Wino. "And what was that? You just gave it to him?"
Cheryl just didn't understand.
"Back when Ibrahim and I were traveling the world together," Wino plead. "Ibrahim did things that I could never pay back. 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 Genera now. Ibrahim is just too stubborn. He doesn't back down and constantly pushes the bounds of your rules."
The living room door shut. Wino sank his head between his shoulders. He wasted another attempt trying to address the intricacies of Cheryl's request. Together, he and Ibrahim 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 needed control over Ibrahim, or else he risked losing Cheryl.
The time struck 6 pm. Cheryl left in a foul mood. Wino hoped she'd cheer up for their dinner date that night. He wondered if they'd have a lively discussion or waste more time discussing Ibrahim. The magical rascal took over their relationship. Wino contemplated the time required for Ibrahim to fully assimilate into society. How Ibrahim would adapt as an average individual and no longer a blessed hero. Most importantly, would Cheryl's dwindling patience diminish before Wino saw this process to its completion?
Outside, Ibrahim strolled across the central plaza or The U.
He mumbled to himself, "Stupid cow. I'd turn her into a goat if I just had magic."
Ibrahim crossed the major street – Ménage Boulevard – into the city side where the gray businesses and rusty apartments shrouded him in a maze of concrete. Another major street – Capone Street – and he'd be at the business center where Wino worked.
Ibrahim had his dinner in a plastic bag. He walked down a dark street. Most of the light stemmed from the second-story windows but people had cheap plugins to lower their rent. There were some wayward individuals dressed in tattered rags and dingy garments occupying the streets. Some hunched on the curbs, and others wondered the tight alleyways between the buildings. Ibrahim tucked his head into his chest and weaved about the occupants like an obstacle course.
"Man, all these people look so sketchy," he thought. "If my wand were charged, I'd walk this street naked and dare someone to touch me."
He kept his wand well into his pants, where his back pocket would be. After the incident the other night, it resurfaced more and more upon his person. It pressed upon his skin secured by the waistband to his shorts. At times, the tip poked outside his shirt but he adjusted accordingly and never moved without it.
This clearly drew Wino's attention but thankfully, the guy was too timid to gather his thoughts and even more so to vocalize them. His other half, on the other hand, had ample courage. Fortunately, she wanted to see Wino do it. The naggy nuisance aught to buzz off with her defiant attitude. The sooner the city girl left the picture, the better it'd be for them––at least in Ibrahim's eyes. In fact, all these city dwellers felt like they ran the world all because they had The General to inflate their ego with her protectionist agenda. She prioritized humans above magicians which wasn't a solution, it just reversed the problem. But what else could you expect from a human who seized untold power?
Ibrahim walked past some five-stair steps before a street-side porch. He glanced at some lady seated on stairs. She wore a royal purple skirt partly masked by a black jacket, grey hoodie underneath, and cowgirl boots. Darkness shrouded her face. Ibrahim glanced towards her and met a violet flash. He immediately turned away, unaware of the gleam his eyes displayed. Ibrahim strolled past her. She panned after him from her seat. A few more steps and suddenly his ear twitched. He planted his foot. A hand reached for him, but more importantly it went for his wand. Pivoting reflexively, Ibrahim took a careful look at the courageous stranger's demeanor. He instantly recalled: 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 slithered across her face. She mimicked his eagerness – just let me take it. Ibrahim froze. His chest fluttered with shallow breaths. His shoulders slacked and he wondered: what could she want from me?
***
People crisscrossed the sidewalk adjacent a street-side restaurant. There was an outdoor veranda. Cheryl and Wino sat beneath the redwood pergolas at a petite, pink table. Potted plants dotted the four corners of the foot-high stonewall outlining the wood flooring. Cheryl glanced out the corner of her eye. Bussers scurried by carrying trays bearing gourmet dishes. Sizzling oils popped as they came outside while footsteps squeaked as they head back in empty-handed. Wino followed her lead, eagerly watching the workers. Salivation crept over his lips as his stomach gurgled.
"So," Cheryl asked. "Any plans this weekend?"
"Hmm?" He faced her while she stirred a sunset orange drink.
"I was thinking. We should go somewhere. Get out of the city, y'know?" Cheryl gazed up at Wino.
"That would be great but," he paused. "I can't leave him there."
He did it, and he didn't want to. Usually, it was Cheryl and her complaining that brought Ibrahim into the equation but tonight it was supposedly Wino's turn. Cheryl didn't take the bait, she snapped back at the door and distracted herself with who's ordering what and how entrees crackled and popped above the black serving tray. Wino attempted to reignite the conversation but it's as if she's too intrigued to hear him.
"What're you doing?"
His voice blurred into the ambiance and she failed to respond. Wino's heart fell to the table hovering over the plastic advertisements there. He fiddled with them as they waited for their orders to arrive.
"I'll talk to him."
***