Category: $200 Summer Contest entry

When I came to, I was alive, which was a great start. But it quickly went downhill.
The hangover I’d had got together with the beating the tarmogoyf had given me and had little headache babies inside my head. I had a sharp pain in my back from the rock I was bent backwards over. A musclebound hulk of a man covered in animal skins
stood over me, snarling, breathing heavily and smelling like a locker room the day before laundry day.

The smell wasn’t
the thing that most concerned me right at that moment, though. The man also had one of his thick, meaty fists gripping my
throat. He wasn’t strangling me, but it seemed like things might go that direction soon if I didn’t play my cards right.

But that wasn’t the thing that most concerned me right at that moment, either. The man also had pushed his thigh pretty
deep into my personal space, preventing me from pulling my knees together. That was alarming enough to snap me to alert
in spite of the raging headache.

“Garruk Wildspeaker,” I said, trying to remain about as cool as I could with a thigh the size of a tree trunk about
an inch from my valuables, “fancy meeting you here. You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”

“WHAT?” The meathead looked confused, and I breathed a little easier as he let go of my throat. “BEFORE DOING WHAT?”

“You tell me. You’re the one that apparently decided to get intimate while I was unconscious. Getting a little too close
for comfort with your thigh right there.” He looked down at his own thigh and blanched, apparently not having realized the
connotation of what he’d been doing. He backed away hastily.

“WHOA,” he said. I was pretty sure he couldn’t actually control the volume of his voice. “THAT’S JUST HOW I SAY HELLO, OKAY?”

“Whatever you say,” I said, pushing myself up and off the rock and dusting off my robes. “None of my business. So was that your
pet tarmogoyf that pounded out the Love Song of Night and Day on the back of my head?”

“I SENT HIM TO BRING YOU TO ME, BECAUSE WE NEED TO SPEAK. I DID NOT KNOW HE’D LEARNED TO PLAY MUSIC.” Whatever you might say
about Garruk, he’s not a subtle guy.

“You could’ve just sent a note or something, like a normal person, instead of going with the method that leaves me feeling
like I got hit by a dreadnaught. Why should I even listen to you after you had your tarmogoyf beat the hell out of me and drag
me out here to -” I looked around to take in my surroundings more clearly. “-the middle of the forest?”

“HA HA HA,” he said. I don’t mean he laughed; I mean he said those words. “YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME BECAUSE YOU ARE LOST IN THE
WOODS, AND YOU HAVE NO OUTS. I CHECKED. YOU WILL NEED MY HELP TO FIND YOUR WAY.”

I rubbed my temples. This was going to be a long day. I wasn’t at all sure that I wouldn’t be able to make it out on my own,
but I was sure he could speed things up for me if he wanted. Might as well humor the big lummox. “Fine,” I said. “What do you want?”

“LILIANA,” he said. “LILIANA VESS,” he clarified, as if there were other Lilianas he might be talking about.

“Okay. What’s that got to do with me? I don’t know where she is. Haven’t seen her in months.” Dame had a way of
disappearing without a trace after she’d gotten what she wanted. Sometimes, she’d take half your stuff, too.
Was worth it, though, for all the things she taught me. That woman could tutor, if you know what I mean,
and we worked really well together. Fun while it lasted.

“YOU WERE WITH CHANDRA. CHANDRA AND LILIANA ARE PLOTTING SOMETHING TOGETHER. WHAT DID CHANDRA WANT?”
He was starting to sound desperate. Lily must’ve done a number on him.

“Sorry. My clients’ business is strictly confidential. Didn’t get my reputation as a reliable confidant by coughing
up everyone’s secrets all over the place.” Then he hit me. Sudden backhand across the face. I hadn’t been expecting
it, and it felt like being struck by a lightning bolt. I staggered backward, reeling from the blow. Then,
before I could think about it, I did something stupid. I hit him back.

I landed a pretty solid punch to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He grunted with surprise.
Guys like him never expect me to be able to put up a fight; probably because I’m black. In my line of work,
that just makes it all the more important to hit the gym and get my workouts in. Of course, that doesn’t
mean I can go toe-to-toe with green guys built like refrigerators, and usually when I get into an altercation
like that, I’m in the city and I have an escape plan. Here, I was out of my element, and Garruk was right at home.
Not to mention I had no idea where I was. So I didn’t bother to run. I just waited to see what he’d do next.

That was when he flipped.

Veins in his forehead, neck and forearms started to pulse and turn black. His irises followed suit.
The guy went from angry to completely-lost-it enraged. I was pretty sure he was about to start frothing
at the mouth. He advanced on me, and I knew that the situation was about to get very, very bad for me.
So I used the last trick I had left.

I closed my eyes and reached into myself to access my power – the power to reveal someone’s deepest,
darkest secrets. People are so entrenched in their layers and layers of doubt and self-deception that
when you peel it all back and show them what’s in their own minds, it has a potent, frequently even
painful, impact. And then you have planeswalkers, whose minds are so messed up with multifaceted
consciousnesses and knowledge of alternate dimensions that seeing the wrong thing at the wrong time
can bring down the whole house of cards.

For Garruk, the thing I revealed was… a really, really big wurm. I was actually disappointed,
and pretty sure I was about to die, but then he dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, clutched his
temples and shrieked like I’d just shown him Emrakul itself. At that point I figured my chances
with the woods were better than my chances with Garruk when he finally recovered from whatever
it was I’d shown him, so I picked a direction and took off running.

After a few minutes and several roots I’d tripped over, I stopped to think. I was sure Garruk
wasn’t dead, that he’d immediately follow my trail when he regained his faculties, and that when
he found me, I’d be too dead to be sure of anything else any more. I hadn’t made it out of the
woods yet, and I probably wasn’t going to before he caught up to me. I realized I had to do
something that he would never expect me to do.

I climbed a tree.

I was actually a fairly experienced tree climber, as it frequently comes in handy for me in situations
like the one I was in. A minute later, and I was safely perched on a branch near the top of the tree.
Just in the nick of time, too – as soon as I’d settled in, Garruk came crashing through with all
the grace of a drunk walrus. He didn’t even slow down when he passed underneath my hiding spot.
I love it when a plan comes together. I figured I’d give him a nice head start down the wrong path
before trying to find my way out of the forest. Half hour ought to do it.

Hours later, I realized I’d zoned out while listening for signs of Garruk and trying to forget how
badly my head hurt. I looked down at the ground and saw a guy standing at the base of the tree. He
was wholly unremarkable-looking; he wore standard-issue infantry armor, carried a spear and a shield,
and had a plain, forgettable face. You’ve seen one soldier, you’ve seen them all. Certainly
wasn’t anybody I recognized. He was also looking straight up at me. At that point, my cover was
blown anyway, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to see if I could get some useful information out of
the soldier. Like, for example, if Garruk was still nearby, or maybe which way was out.

“Hello down there,” I called out. “You haven’t seen an angry planeswalker nearby recently, have you?”
The guy didn’t say anything. He tensed his legs for a jump, and sprang into the air.
And then, at the apex of his jump, when he should’ve started falling back to the ground,
instead, he kept coming. And was actually coming faster, on a direct collision course with yours truly.

“Oh, shi-” I said, as his shield collided with my face. Everything went black.

I came to on the floor of my office with a crushing headache and a few empty bottles of Blessed Wine scattered around me. I grunted. Guess I’d had a good night.

I hoisted myself up off the floor and surveyed the damage. Black leather couch, frumpled exactly as it had been when I knocked off early yesterday afternoon. Only three empty bottles, and I can put two and a half away by myself, no problem. Desk was in order, other than an empty, crumpled-up Baloth Burger bag. The glamorous life of a private eye.

I mentally revised my assessment of the previous evening. Didn’t want to admit it, but the evidence was clear: I’d spent another night alone, drinking with my cat. For his part, Hans was curled up, asleep on the windowsill, providing the best kind of companionship you can ask for when you’ve got a hangover – the quiet kind.

I picked up the bottles and threw them into the bin, and I was heading into the back to get some coffee brewing when I heard the click of heels outside my door. Damnation. I doubted I was in any shape to be meeting with prospective clients. Which was a problem, because money was starting to get tight. I’d done pretty well for myself with my last case, but the cash from the Modern Masters was drying up, and I needed some work. I wouldn’t say I was desperate, but that’s only because “desperate” doesn’t sound so hot, does it?

I spun around and hastily smoothed my robes as I headed back into my office to do my best to pretend that two minutes ago I hadn’t been drooling on the floor. It was a dame, and she was red. Could tell from the heels, and from the wisps of smoke and the singed area spreading over the top of my door frame. Always gives it away.

She rapped impatiently on the door as I sat down at my desk. That might sound strange, but you have to remember: red dames do everything impatiently. I tossed the Baloth Burger bag in the bin with the bottles, and caught a whiff of something funky. Guess I hadn’t finished dinner. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice. I sat back in my chair and steepled my fingers. I might be hung over, but at least I could look the part of “dark wizard.” Planeswalkers tended to appreciate theatrics. Not content to knock a second time, she jerked the door open and barged right in.

She was a vision, the kind of dame you knew would use you up and throw you away without a second thought and still leave you happy to have had the privilege. She wore red leather thigh-high boots, a flowing skirt with a split down the front that I very much appreciated for the view it allowed, tight leather armor covering her torso, and goggles as an accessory on the top of her head. And her hair was fire. Not on fire, mind you. Actual fire. Yeah, she was trouble, just the kind of trouble I liked. And she was no stranger to me, either.

“Chandra Nalaar. Last time I saw you, my employer took a Lava Axe to the face.” She smirked, then plopped down on my couch and crossed her legs. Ever the professional, I remained very attentive.

“You have to be careful when you play with fire, or you’ll get burned.” Of course she’d say that. Red dames always say that. “You look like hell, Bob. Rough night?” Her eyes told me she’d already guessed how my night had gone.

“Something like that.” I pulled a pack of Psychic Strikes out of my desk drawer, took one out, lit it with a spell, and took a drag. Ahhh. People are surprised to discover the Dimir know good tobacco. They shouldn’t be; the Dimir know everything else. I offered the pack to Chandra.

“I’d love to smoke,” she said. Red dames always say that, too. I tossed her the pack and she took the last cig, put it between her lips, hesitated.

“Need a light?” Her mouth quirked, and she took a drag on the unlit cigarette. A third of it turned immediately to ash, and the smoke she exhaled came out in the form of a dragon. One of a red dame’s top five favorite things is to be asked that question. Another is showing off. I’d probably made her morning.

She tossed the empty pack into the bin with the burger bag and bottles, and I grimaced as I caught another whiff of that smell. Was it getting stronger? Wish I’d had more time to clean up. Chandra hadn’t seemed to notice, though. I leaned back in my chair. “So, what can I do for you? Don’t figure you came all the way out here to bum a smoke and make the place hotter.”

“Are you familiar with M-Fourteen?” I was. It was a new marketing initiative from the Wizards of the Coast. They’d hired her to be the face of the product. I’d seen her on posters all over the place. I told her as much. I didn’t mention that the general consensus was that “Chandra, the Pyromaster” hadn’t lived up to all the hype. I’m fond of my face, and I’d rather keep it. Plus, she probably already knew anyway.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bob. I’m sure you know about the… critical reception.”

I nodded. “I’m not one to judge,” I said.

“That’s healthy,” she said. “But it shouldn’t have happened this way. I was supposed to be the best thing since Jace, the Mind Sculptor.” With the face she made when she said his name, you’d have thought the cigarette in her mouth was Golgari zombie fungus. And to be fair, his name does taste pretty bad.

“Mmm. What’s that got to do with me?” I asked.

“I was supposed to have a fourth ability. A minus ability. It was there when I signed off on everything. But when I went back later to look over the files, it was gone. Someone STOLE it.” Her hair flared white-hot, charring a picture frame I had hanging on the wall above her. I’d never liked that one anyway.

“So you want me to find it for you?” I asked.

“No, I want you to find out who took it. I’ll deal with them myself.” No doubt, if it indeed had been stolen, whoever had taken it would meet a fiery conclusion.

“Do you have any leads?” I asked.

“As far as I know, the only people who should have had access were the Wizards of the Coast. I wouldn’t put it past Jace to find a way to meddle, either, but I can’t prove it.” She was clearly getting more irritated, so I decided to quit before I lost a piece of office furniture I actually cared about.

“All right. Just remember, when I work for you, sometimes I turn up more than you bargained for. When that happens, things can get dicey.” A smile played across her lips, and she recrossed her legs. “A little danger just makes it more exciting; don’t you think, Bob?” I wasn’t actually thinking right at that moment.

“You… know my rate?” I asked. She pointed at the plaque I keep on the wall behind my desk. Greatness. At any cost. I grinned at her. “That’s just my motto. My rate is one card per turn, plus expenses.”

She stood up, and held out her hand. “Deal. I think I’ll enjoy working with you, Bob.” I took her hand, and we shook. At that moment I was very glad I’d had that blessed wine, because I’d forgotten my pants. Without pants, I’m pretty sure I needed the wine to resist that searing touch of hers.

After she left, I made some coffee and sat down on the couch to think. Hans decided he’d had enough sun and came to join me, so I stroked him idly as I mused. The million-mana question was, who had something to gain from Chandra’s loss? Surely the Wizards of the Coast would’ve wanted her to live up to all the hype. It was easy to write off Chandra’s suspicion of Jace as groundless paranoia based in her intense hatred of him, but then again, the man was an arrogant prick. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to risk losing his spot as king of the roost, and had used illusions or mind control to turn one of the Wizards? Regardless, it was clear I needed to pay those Wizards a visit.

I stood up, took the singed frame off the wall and tossed it into the bin with the bottles, the burger bag and the empty pack of cigarettes. The smell got even worse. I realized my mistake a split second before I saw the slavering tarmogoyf at the window, its beady eyes trained on me.

“Ach,” I said. “Hans? Run!” I turned on my heel and headed for the door, but the tarmogoyf was on me before I’d made it more than four steps. It smashed through the window, caught me by the shoulder, spun me around, and slammed me to the floor. It closed its meaty hands around my windpipe, keeping me from speaking the words to a spell. The last thing I saw was a glob of spit falling toward my face. Everything went black.