Before evening came, I had managed to work out the spatial pockets, making nine more ribbons. I could have made more, but I decided to keep the materials in reserve in case I learned how to optimize the runes. In addition, the parts of the magical creature, placed in the refrigerator, almost does not spoil. Probably, it's the fact that usually hounds are surrounded by temperatures above seventy degrees, and sometimes more, after all, the infernal dimension got its name for a reason, and, of course, magic.
While I was doing the hard work, Harley also decided to do something useful, for this she assembled a spy equipment detector, which was not useful in the end. I don't know if Bats really filmed the surveillance, but all the devices were turned off, so my assistant had to search for them manually, almost sniffing every corner of the apartment. This approach bore fruit, and soon a small mountain of recording devices stood on the table next to the sofa, and pulling some miniature cameras out of the walls, my beloved was happy to get a good angle and kept asking me whether the super pervert had sent the video or not.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to detect all the means of remote surveillance in such a way, for the same sound recording it was enough to use a device that could detect the vibration of a window pane, and it could be located even in a neighboring building, and that didn't take into account listening through the walls. The only way to protect myself from such a thing is to use a jammer, but the problem is that the device I've assembled during my absence, which replicates the functionality of Alan's stealth-boy, was constantly emitting a modulated beeping noise that was getting on my nerves. Eh, if we turned it on during serious conversations, we'd literally be telling all interested parties that something important was going on here. I'm going to build a stalker-proof mansion anyway, and Ivy's plants are the main thing to remember when moving in, or she'll kill me.
Finished with our not-so-exciting classes, we decided to get down to something more interesting, namely magic.
Thanks to John's "How to Master Illusions in Three Easy Steps" Intensive, where he explained the basics, we both had a firefly spell that created a small, bright ball of light for thirty seconds in the standard configuration, except that it took all of twenty seconds to create properly, and that was standing still and under a fun flashback! By the way, if I had at least wielded flash at an acceptable level, then maybe we wouldn't have been so embarrassingly drained by the spiders, just blinding them when necessary.
The problem of a long cast can be solved in several ways: to create spells by will and a large infusion of mana, which is unacceptable to me, to nerf standard rune forms, such as activator or mana storage, which the mage then combines among themselves like a constructor, or to memorize a ready-made weave. Despite the versatility of the second method, I chose the third, mentally visualizing the whole pattern over and over again, but not filling it with energy. It was not a good idea, and it was better to do everything fully, but my reserve wasn't infinite, and I didn't see any dragon vein at hand.
As the very first spell to be practiced, our combat duo chose the aforementioned flash: relatively fast cast, minimum reserve expenditure, and efficiency. But we went our separate ways: I created mind-affecting spells, while adding protection from friendly fire, and my assistant chose a slightly simpler and less costly option, deciding to go the way of magical arachnids. Of course, for a couple of hours of practice we both could not boast of strong progress, but the beginning was made and now it was up to training.
***
The morning, as always, started splendidly. One voyeur still threw a video to the mail, so overexcited from watching some clips blond love-loving cutie was several times more active than usual, all flashing multicolored eyes. What can I say, I liked the recordings myself, although I was directly involved in most of them. And Bats was a fucking pervert, because he only sent porn or something close to it, like the little bit when I started hitting on Harley, who was cooking breakfast in an apron on her naked body. Hmm, maybe it's some kind of algorithm? A little digging in the archive we found very short segments with ordinary kisses or hugs, which did not turn into fucking, we just liked to feel each other.
When I finished, I took a shower and decided to make breakfast, but my plans were a little disturbed by a ringing smartphone. I don't like answering unknown numbers that are not recognized, but what if it was a call from a construction company?
As it turned out, I was right. A pleasant female voice introduced herself as a personal manager from the VSO organization named Natalie. After clarifying the approximate level of my needs, the woman suggested meeting at a restaurant today to discuss the details, or at any place convenient for me. Without thinking too much, I chose the proposed option, located in the business district of the city. These people must take good care of anonymity, because it is not for nothing that various villains and heroes cooperate with them.
I was in a great mood and started cooking, but then the weirdness started. My favorite cup suddenly cracked and split in my hands, and it was a good thing I didn't have time to pour tea in it, but it still didn't save me from cleaning up.
"Shit!" While I was distracted, carefully sweeping the shards into the dustpan, the scrambled eggs had managed not just to cook, but to burn. At the smell of burning came the blonde and stared in amazement at my culinary creations. No, I, of course, do not have too much cooking skill, but not to such an extent.
After watching my agony, Harley pecked me on the cheek and gently escorted me out of the kitchen, advising me to distract myself.
All right, I'm gonna pick up some junk for the auction.
Today was clearly not my day: when I tried to open the costume closet, all I had left was the handle, and a second later I could have been hit on the head by the falling door if I hadn't been alert. Where's my mega-good luck for taking down a coven of demon worshippers?
~Tresk~
The bar, with clothes hanging on hangers, broke off in the middle.
Oh, I see where...
I began to unpack my things, saying not the most flattering words to the windy Fortune. The earth would help... That's a hell of a lot of help, if you believe the magicians after that.
After spending half an hour on some repairs and tidying up, we ate breakfast and started packing. Damn, what a cool thing is a space pocket, and when there are several of them, it's awesome. So much cool stuff can fit in, and at the same time it weighs much less than it should.
When we were standing in the hallway about to leave, the doorbell rang suddenly. When I looked through the peephole, I saw two policemen who looked familiar to me.
"Hello, Mr. Arkham. - Officer Jenkins greeted me politely, judging by my badge, as soon as I opened the door.
"Uh, hello. Can I help you?
"The commissioner sent us. He wants you to come down to the station.
"Am I being accused of something?" I thought I'd set the record straight, because I don't like where this is going. Gordon asking me for something. There's no such thing!
"Not yet... I mean, no. - The policeman answered more confidently after his colleague looked at him indignantly.
"Hmm, so "not yet" or "not yet."
"No. I'm sorry, but as part of the investigation, we can't go into more detail. - The man said, at my questioning look.
Training with Leroy again appears to be in the offing, which is a little sad.
"I'll be there at eight o'clock. I'll be there around 8:00. I can't make it any earlier than that. - I wonder if I should bring Alan along. Hmm, though I should start building a more trusting relationship with my future father-in-law, and it's hard to do that in the presence of a lawyer. Heh, the main thing is that James should not find out about my plans, otherwise the fantasy about the hunters after my head will become a reality.
"Thank you. - The policeman looked at the couple with an attentive eye. - If you want, we can walk you to your car.
"Uh, probably shouldn't. You know, I'd like some privacy.
For some reason, the two policemen smiled oddly at my words, and then, apologizing again for bothering me, left. They were weird.
After waiting about five minutes, we left the driveway, and I realized what Jenkins had meant, there were several vans with news station banners in the courtyard, and reporters standing around. And just half an hour ago there hadn't been anyone here, fucking luck. I think I know who uncovered our location... Honestly, I wish yesterday's employee had been a tipster for some gangs.
As if in some horror movie, the entire not insignificant crowd turned their heads in our direction.
"Let's go!" I pick up the joyfully squealing blonde in my arms and rush towards the parking lot, but then halfway there I change my route, deciding, as in the good old days, to take public transportation. Because my car is notable, and, knowing the area of the search, the workers of the pen could set up a watch near it.
Well, that was the end of it. Of course, our anonymity was already on the snot, but I hoped that I would have enough time to build my own house, where no suspicious persons would be allowed to enter. Now these piranhas will be constantly on duty under the windows trying to interview me. And they will definitely not try to get into the apartment, because it is private property and for such a thing they will not only not be patted on the head, but this head will be torn off. But the bloggers who come after them won't give a damn about conventions, and besides, the starting point of my route is now known to everyone. Besides, because of this shit, we can't invite Babs!
Okay, it's settled, I'm contacting some news channel right now and agreeing to do an interview to lessen the hype.
That said, it was done. While we stood at the bus stop waiting for the bus, I went to the website of the most popular local TV news and left a request with contacts for feedback. Now all we have to do is wait.
As I jolted on public transportation, I lazily flipped through my newsfeed, while Harley snuggled up against me and browsed some suspicious websites, judging by the flickering pictures of some kind of tin can.
Wow, Bats is a real piece of work. He's decided to do a complete renovation of Old Gotham with a huge chunk of money. Well, it's a much better approach than jumping on rooftops at night to catch gangsters. Providing decent living conditions and development, it is quite possible to reduce the crime rate, and some catacombs long ago it is time to fall asleep, or the next earthquake will fall a third of the island.
"Mr. J, look at this. - My faithful companion said, pulling me away from my reading and holding out her smartphone. The screen was a bloody mess of what had once been a human being, judging by the shreds of a foot in a shoe and scraps of clothing.
"Oh, come on!" I couldn't help but exclaim, as these parts belonged to Hugo Strange, if the description is to be believed. The investigation was still ongoing, so it was surprising that this information had made it to the information portal at all.
I somehow feel like I had something to do with his death, because in the comics he was in no hurry to die and either loomed in the background as one of the faceless doctors at Arkham Asylum or turned into one of the antagonists the Bat was fighting against.
"What's this?" Looking closely at the right edge, I noticed a wind-up false jaw. It was the same thing that had been in the gift on the island where the fake Joker was operating.
"Honey, can you tell me what this is?" I zoomed in on the wind-up denture, showing it to the blonde.
"So that's your old symbol, well, besides the red and green coloring.
"Hmm, I can see why Gordon's interested in me.
Why the fuck is there another copycat? They're supposed to be the Joker?! I made a note to break the bastard's legs when I met him, and continued reading the news, but, except for a few articles about one suddenly rich person who had found a treasure, there was nothing interesting.
Soon we were out in the business district. But before I went to meet the manager of the VSO, I contacted Alan and, dropping by his office, handed him a few suits, and I decided not to be petty and gave him full sets, including even family underpants in a funny red polka dot. And it is still necessary to legalize seven hundred million dollars, and just one set of clothes for this amount is clearly not pulling.
Okay, I'm not supposed to be in trouble with the IRS, so whatever. Having accomplished this simple task, our couple leisurely walked to the restaurant with the screaming name "Feast of the Spirit". I don't know what the designer had in mind, but it looks pretty funny. Contrary to the strange name, everything inside was arranged according to the highest standards. The large common room was decorated in an eye-pleasing bluish color with a huge round aquarium in the center, in which a small ecosystem of coral reef was created, it looked great, though not very practical, eating up most of the internal space. Unobtrusive live music played in the background, there was also a second floor where individual booths were located.
"Hello, can I help you with something?" The hostess at the entrance politely addressed us, distracting us from contemplating the local beauty.
"Yeah, I have an appointment here with Natalie.
"Mr. Arkham?" The man asked, his face unchanged. - Steve, take over for me. - He spoke into a small speaker at the collar of his snow-white shirt, after I nodded. - Follow me, please. - The restaurant worker stepped out from behind the counter and walked forward, showing me the way.
Expectedly, our path led us to the second floor, where we were ushered into one of the booths and told that Natalie would be along shortly, but in the meantime we could order something to eat, and for free.
Harley, unashamedly, immediately picked up a whole mountain of various cakes, and I decided not to eat. Of course, it was unlikely that they would try to drug us with something, and our bodies had a high resistance, but still, we shouldn't take any risks.
Soon the door opened, revealing what appeared to be the VSO manager. She was a rather tall brunette in her early thirties with a ponytail, wearing a standard black and white office suit and carrying a small document bag.
Apologizing for the wait, she sat down across from me and pulled out a stack of yellow sheets with some symbols on them; a device that looked like a Dershowitz jammer, but was clearly more advanced; a glass ball on a stand that looked like a fortune-teller's ball; and an ordinary laptop. Heh, I'm not the only one who's into creating spatial pockets.
"These things are meant to keep the conversation private. - The woman said, and then slapped the stack of sheets lightly, and they rustled and flew off, sticking to the walls, floor, and ceiling. The silencer was activated by a small toggle switch at the base, and it didn't beep, which was unnerving. Natalie didn't activate the orb in any way, but only glanced at it before showing us a laptop screen with various projects on it, saying: "So, how do you see your home?".
Discussing the future cozy nest took almost two hours, which were incredibly productive: we were able to find an excellent ready-made mansion as the main dwelling. The building just needs a little bit of renovation and upgrading to suit our needs, like good autonomous security systems, secret tunnels, a greenhouse with advanced climate control and other cool stuff. Haha, Bats and I are going to be neighbors, so I already have an idea where to build a secret hideout, but its creation will have to be postponed a little bit, because the manager was aware of the presence of voids in the Bristol area, so we wait for the expert's opinion, and then already deal with the secret lair.
The service at VSO was beyond praise, and after a while we became the official owners of a mansion and land for eighty-eight million dollars, the manager promised that by the evening we could move in and not worry about things: the company would carefully move them from the apartment to our new home. At my request, even my car will be put in the garage, because I do not want to go back for it. Of course, it's impossible for the workers to fulfill all my and Harley's wishes in a few hours, but the main rooms will definitely be ready, and the rest will be finished within two weeks.
After marveling at how much money makes it easier to solve problems, we said goodbye to Natalie and headed to the circus for a show.