[Supply Run] Don't Bring a Gun to a Wandfight [closed to Sherlock, John, Patsy, and Sirius]

[on_your_nerves]

When Stacy had stopped at a planet to allow for a short run for supplies, Sherlock had jumped at the opportunity to get off the ship. It wasn't so much that he hated the ship--he was still utterly fascinated with it, in fact, and exploring everything he could about it--but it was an opportunity to see an entirely different world. Getting a feel for all the kinds of possibilities that could be out there would help him adjust to the surprises he might find on actual missions.

He wasn't the only one that had wanted to stretch his legs. John had tagged along, of course, and so had Sirius, who Sherlock sincerely hoped would keep the flirting to a minimum this time. There also was a stranger, a woman that had introduced herself as Patsy, who apparently had a habit of wearing a cat mask. Sherlock had thought it absolutely ridiculous--until they got down to the planet, where it turned out that garish clothing was rather commonplace, meaning that she fit in with the locals. (Even then, it was still a little ridiculous.)

It was, incredibly, unbelievably, a world with actual magic. Not horribly different than he and John's own, but with everything powered by magic and an untold number of magical species, like trolls, goblins, dwarves, elves, and fairies. Skyscrapers existed but were sprawling structures that seemed to defy the laws of physics, cars drove through the streets--but they hovered off the ground and left behind sparkly exhaust, and right now, it seemed very fashionable for them to be in the stylized shapes of pumpkins.

At the moment, they were all walking through a magical marketplace, where individuals in colorful clothes of a variety of species were hawking rather incredible wares like magic mirrors and foods that apparently prepared themselves for dinner. Behind them, they were carting along a hovering cart for the supplies they were getting--apparently the ship's supplies of magical ingredients and implements needed to be replenished so that there were some for those who were magically-inclined to have them on hand if they were needed.

"This is..." He wasn't going to say it was incredible. He had a whole unimpressed facade to maintain. "Improbable."

And yes, very interesting.

A drunken pixie flew over their heads in wobbly circles and threw up fairy dust all over a very grim-faced troll, who immediately started shaking a fist at her and cursing.

"Oh, the whimsy," he added sarcastically, although he did look amused.

Comments

[grimbiker]

Sirius laughed. This world was very different from his own, even the magic, but after spending so long on Stacy, he felt more at ease than he had in a long time. Now if only Remus were here... or Cedric...

Would want you to enjoy it. So would James, for that matter

He tried to distract himself by looking at the cars flying by. He'd have to ask how they were powered later.

"Only to you." He said to Sherlock. "This feels half like home to me."

[nerves_of_steel]

John almost wished he had a few more sets of eyes so he could take in all the sights -- "almost" because he wasn't sure if the magical background radiation of the place (was there any such thing as magical background radiation?) could actually make that happen. So he restrained himself to goggling around with his one set of eyes and trying not to lose track of Sherlock or the other two or their cart in the crowd.

"Right," he said, glancing down at their shopping list. "The next thing we need is...newt eyeballs?" he looked over incredulously at Sirius. "That's a real thing for spells? Newt eyeballs?"

[grimbiker]

"Yep."

[cheeseandcrackers]

"..." Patsy shuddered. Newt eyeballs. That just sounded...wrong. Dr. Strange would probably know if that's a real thing, she mused as she watched the drunk pixie vomit pixie dust over what seemed to be a magic lamp. Angry red smoke puffed out of the lamp's spout. Patsy turned away, not really keen on seeing an angry genie.

And then she turned back to see if there was an angry genie. Because that would actually be all kinds of cool.

"And you serve that spell with - cheese and crackers!" The genie was out of the lamp, attacking the pixie with glitter-smoke bombs of his own.

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock's eyes widened and he ducked a stray spell just in time. It hit a street lamp behind him, which immediately sprouted some very angry tentacles. Then he had to duck those because one reached out and tried to grab him. Mercifully, he had fast reflexes.

"It's a wonder they even function as a society when everyone is walking around with the magical equivalent of a loaded gun."

He paused and reflected on that.

"Then again, at least that probably means the crimes here are rarely boring."

And frequent.

[grimbiker]

Sirius had also evaded the tentacles grip but he saw that the street lamp was sprouting new ones, growing at an alarming rate. It was time to see how well his own magic worked in this world. He took out his wand and cast a spell on the street lamp to revert it to its true form. It worked.

But when the pixie fought back against the genie her purse split and tiny gold stars spilled onto the ground. The moment it touched the sidewalk, grass and flowers sprung up and the vegetation spread.

The pixie shrieked at the genie, mentioned something about how that was for her god daughter, and tried to put the genie in a headlock.

"Rarely boring indeed." Sirius watched, his mouth parted slightly. "My bet is on the genie."

[nerves_of_steel]

"Should we be trying to break this up before someone gets hurt?" John asked, having also just barely skipped out of reach of the tentacles. He was eyeballing the spreading vegetation with trepidation as well.

"By the way, Sherlock," he said, not looking away from the fight and magical plants, "none of this stuff we're getting goes to our room. None of it. Not even the newt eyeballs."

[cheeseandcrackers]

Patsy, for her part, was fighting off the tentacles with what limited resources of telekinesis she possessed. It was enough to help, thankfully.

"I don't know. Maybe it would help some of that sludge we get in the mess hall taste more interesting," she said. She jumped back as the vegetation came dangerously close to her boots.

[on_your_nerves]

Sherlock just shot John a sour look over not being able to bring eyeballs into the room.

"Understood. Nothing on the list goes to our room," Sherlock said briskly, eying a hand of glory in a shop window, planning on following what he said to the letter. (Which meant he planned on getting dead things that weren't on the list and bringing them to their room.)

"As for them," Sherlock cast the pixie and the genie one last cautious look and started moving on, though he kept glancing back to make sure no stray spells were coming their way, "we wouldn't break up every street fight between drunks back home, so why in the world should we do it here? Especially when a stray spell can turn us into produce? We should try not to get caught up in local affairs while we're here, especially if it involves fighting. It's probably murder getting fairy dust out of clothing in the wash."

Some time later...

[nerves_of_steel]

John jerked awake with a faint gasp and a violent twitch at the realization that he was restrained and hanging from something. He blinked around in the dim light, thrown by the lack of throbbing in his head that he would have expected after being knocked unconscious.

It looked like they -- because Sherlock, Sirius, and Patsy were still with him -- were hanging in some kind of abandoned butcher's warehouse, bound in faintly-glowing chains. He could tell by the lack of weight in his pocket that they'd taken his gun off him, so they'd probably searched everyone else as well. He caught sight of an assembly of unbound figures in the room, including the "child" who'd come and lured them to the alley, and fixed them with a furious glare.

"There are better ways to get an audience for whatever little show you're putting on," he said, jerking his chin at the purple robes worn by those standing before them. He raised his voice. "All right, everyone?"

[on_your_nerves]

"The next time I warn you that you're walking into a trap, dropkick the child you're holding. You used to be a hooker, after all, didn't you?"

There was a lot of kicking in rugby, wasn't there?

Or was that the other one?

[cheeseandcrackers]

A hooker?

John used to be a prostitute?

This was not the time to ask the question, even Patsy knew that, but she did shoot a surprised glance in John's direction as she struggled with the faintly glowing chains that had bound her there.

Magic. She was fairly sure that these were made of magic.

"So, we're not really getting dinner and a show here, are we?" Because when the going got tough, the tough quipped.

[grimbiker]

Sirius struggled to open his eyes. In addition to being stunned he had been attacked by bricks and was in worse shape than the others.

He could feel the chains on his wrist. His body shook in a brief spasm of terror. They couldn't take him to Azkaban. He made a mistake, he cost his best friends their lives, but he hadn't murdered anyone.

"I'm going to kill you, Peter." He muttered darkly. "When I get out of here I'm going to rip you apart just like those poor Muggles you murdered."

[meat_mooks]

"I'm going to forgo explaining where you are. It doesn't matter altogether that much when you're not leaving," said one of the mages, pulling down his purple hood to reveal his face, which was so handsome as to be a bit beautiful. His pointed ears made it very clear that he was an elf.

"The Great God Bulbachulu demands sacrifice and if we appease him with the blood of the pure, of the righteous, when he finally breaks through into this world, he will grant us all immeasurable power."

[nerves_of_steel]

John shot a worried look at Sirius. The man looked like he'd been through a rock tumbler, and John couldn't make out what he was muttering, but it didn't look like they were going to have Sirius' magical expertise immediately on-hand for the escape.

He glanced back at the cultists -- he felt secure in calling them that now -- then back at Sherlock and Patsy. "I think we can come up with better plans for the evening than that," he said dismissively. "Shopping isn't a particularly pure or righteous past-time anyway."

[on_your_nerves]

"The gnome pretending to be a child is how you test people. Anyone that would be alarmed by a terrified child and immediately try to help them is someone that might possibly fit the specifications required for a sacrifice," Sherlock deduced.

[cheeseandcrackers]

"Speak for yourself," Patsy grumbled. "There is nothing purer or more righteous than finding the perfect shade of lipstick at the mall." She licked her lips. "At least, that's what high school Patsy Walker would have said," she added. "Also," she turned her attention to the cultists. "Your...Bulbachulu? Right. He has you dressing in really questionable robes. Do you really believe he's going to do what he says?"

[on_your_nerves]

The city guard had come and cleared the place out, arresting the surviving cultists. A group of specialized mages was dispersing the accumulated arcane energy from all the prior sacrifices so it wouldn't be tapped into by anyone. According to the captain of the guard, Cully was going to be treated as another victim, someone held hostage, because his daughter had been in danger the entire time and because he hadn't killed or kidnapped anyone himself.

The four of them were now sitting in the back of what passed for an ambulance in this world, legs dangling over the edge. Blankets has been put around their shoulders.

"I don't understand the blankets. If someone's in shock, it's not like a blanket's going to magically make them feel better." He paused. "Unless these are magic blankets. They could be, in this world."

Sherlock was pressed shoulder to shoulder with John, as if both of them needed to be that close to each other's personal space.

[nerves_of_steel]

"Blankets do help, psychologically," John said, rolling his eyes skyward as he didn't move to put any space between him and Sherlock. "Same reason Lestrade has that stuffed dog in his car for kids. They also maintain normal body temperature in people who are at risk of going into shock."

He swung a leg idly. "I hope no one stole our cart and the things in it. And that no one mistook it for an explosive or something."

[cheeseandcrackers]

Patsy frowned and removed her blanket. She poked at it and stretched it for a moment, studying it intently. "Um. I'm going to hazard a guess and say it's not magic, but if Sirius wants to get all wand-happy on it and find out...I mean. I wouldn't be opposed?"

Speaking of wand-happy...

Patsy shot a glance at John. She still had questions for that one.

[grimbiker]

"It's a blanket." Sirius said flatly.

As happy as he was to have his wand back, he was-- and this was rare-- not in the mood to show off. Now that they were out of danger Sirius was finally able to process what they all went through. Judging from his pale face, he wasn't liking any of it.

It hit too close to home. The mad cultists, the poor girl being used as bait, the father who was forced to do terrible things to try and save her. Dark magic. Kidnappings. He understood that. What he didn't understand was why he had frozen up in the alley. He could have handled the elf or at least put up a good fight. Instead he lost his grip on reality. That in itself wasn't odd. It happened all the time on the ship but in the middle of a battle? Sirius didn't know what to make of it.

[nerves_of_steel]

John glanced over at Sirius and made a mental note to talk to him about the muttering he'd been doing when they'd all woken up captured. Later, when they didn't have an audience of Patsy and Sherlock and various by-standers.

He also noticed Patsy looking at him strangely.

"Sorry, have I got something on my face?"

[cheeseandcrackers]

"Hmm?" Patsy asked, still deep in thought.

And then the question registered. "Oh! Oh, no, no nothing on your face. Just your nose." Blink. "Not that it's a big nose, like the way Americans sometimes caricaturize them but...I mean. It's there. Along with other facial bits. That are supposed to be there. Like eyes. And lips. And a chin. You have a chin."

She was babbling, wasn't she? Maybe she needed to change the topic.

"So, you're a hooker?"

She paled further. Next time? Next time she was going to think three thoughts before changing a topic.

[nerves_of_steel]

John frowned in concern, leaning in to take a closer look at Patsy's eyes and face, trying to determine if she was just coming down off of the near-death-experience survival high or if it was a sign that she was going into shock.

"Was, back before I joined the army" he answered distractedly. "Never was good enough to go pro or anything, but it's a good way to spend a day with my mates."

[cheeseandcrackers]

"..." Patsy reached up and idly twirled some of her hair with a finger, processing that. She quirked up an eyebrow. "...so, you were an amateur hooker?" Patsy hadn't realized there was a difference. "I didn't realize there were different levels." Was it like an apprenticeship?