"Good job with the acting," Michael, the monkey, said as he climbed through the window.
George sat on the floor, still dazed. "I need to get out of here... Hey, monkey, take me back to New York!"
Michael shook his head. "I can't do that. Only Oz knows how to get there. And stop calling me 'monkey.' I've got a name—it's Michael."
"Fantastic. Just great. So now I have to rely on a guy who abandons an entire city in the middle of a crisis? Maybe I can build a hot air balloon or something… Damn it! I don't even know how to do that." George sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, monkey—can you at least get me something to drink?"
"For the last time, it's Michael!" he snapped, scratching his head in frustration. "But seriously, how did you make those pigeons appear like that? I've always wondered how Oz pulled off that trick without using real magic."
George raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't magic. I just found some of Oz's equipment. It's old-school magician stuff, kind of like what I used to use back in the day. There's a cage hidden in my robe that releases the birds when I press a button." He opened his robe, revealing the machinery.
"So it's all just a trick…" Michael said, fascinated. "And the disappearing act?"
"Simple misdirection," George explained, pointing at the floor in front of the throne. "There's a hidden door down here. While Lumindra was distracted, I dropped through it. This trick's pretty common where I'm from."
Michael crouched down and opened the hidden door, inspecting it. "Oz must've been a skilled illusionist to pull this off."
George nodded and stepped on the panel, triggering the mechanism that dropped him back through the floor. "And that's how I 'teleported.'"
"Whoa…" Michael murmured, impressed as he followed George down, bumping his head in the process. "Oof… So this is what he was working on…"
Climbing out the other side, George dusted himself off. "That's the trick."
Michael stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, his mind racing. As Oz's ally, he had always been there to help protect the city. But now that Oz had disappeared, they were in serious trouble. If word got out that Oz was missing, the evil witches and wizards would descend on Emerald City in no time.
And even Oz's Magic Academy couldn't help. The students were still too young, their magic only ranging from the 1st to 5th circles. The few high-ranking teachers left weren't nearly enough to fend off a full-scale attack.
George, on the other hand, had just arrived here. He didn't know how to act like Oz convincingly, and he certainly didn't have the magical knowledge to keep up the charade forever.
He stared at the throne. Something about it was pulling him in—like it had a spell cast on him. 'I've spent my life as a failed lawyer, a failed actor, a failed magician... but this... this could be my chance.'
"Hey, Fake Oz," Michael called, tapping George on the back. "You should run. You don't deserve to be dragged into this mess."
George turned to look at him. "But you need someone to pretend to be Oz, right? To keep the city safe?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not your responsibility. I'll find Oz. You can hide somewhere in the meantime."
George clenched his fists. This was it—the opportunity of a lifetime. "No! I'm staying. What'll happen to the poor munchkins if I leave?"
Michael raised an eyebrow, surprised by George's conviction. "Wait… how do you know about the munchkins? I thought you weren't from this world."
"We've got books about your world where I'm from."
"Really? Was I in the books?" Michael asked, looking eager.
George chuckled. "Uh, I don't remember any 'Michael the Monkey of Oz.'"
Michael sighed, slightly disappointed but quickly refocused. "So… you really want to help, huh? Even if it means you might die?"
George nodded. He had already faced death once. But this time, if he was going to die, he wanted it to be as someone important. Someone who mattered. "Yeah. I've always believed that doing the right thing is… well, the right thing to do."
Michael's expression softened. "I'm glad someone like you showed up. Honestly, Oz is more concerned with being a grand wizard than actually protecting the city. He just sits on his throne like he's untouchable…"
George smirked, recognizing the irony. 'I'm not so different from Oz after all.'
"So, what now?" George asked.
"Well, you'll have to meet with the King of Veridiana. Oz once threatened to destroy their country if they didn't put his name on their flag. It really pissed them off…"
"Wow. Oz is a lot more… unpleasant than the Oz I read about. And I don't remember hearing about Veridiana in the books—just Gilikin, Winkie, Quadling, and Emerald City."
Michael nodded grimly. "Yeah, the books probably left out a lot. But before we do anything, I need to ask—are you absolutely sure about this? There's no going back once you take on this role."
George didn't hesitate. This was his chance. His one shot to be someone more than a man who couldn't pay off his debts. "Absolutely."
Michael sighed, nodding. "Alright, then." He turned toward the exit.
George followed closely behind, but Michael stopped and turned back, looking slightly annoyed. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're supposed to act like Oz, right? Use the ring to look like him." Michael gestured to the ruby ring glowing on George's finger.
George glanced at the ring, feeling its power thrumming through him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused. "I am… the Great Wizard of Oz."
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