Topic: Out and Back In

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-24 00:14 EST
It wasn't home, but it was close enough.

Daniel Dean sat on a bench at the edge of a park, grassy expanse behind him. He would never have guessed how good it would feel to see traffic. That accursed place he'd been stuck in had cars, but not nearly so many, and the roads weren't made for them. The smell exhaust was an embrace. He hadn't come from this world, but it was almost the same as his own. Modern technology was the standard, everyone he saw was human, and, most importantly, there was no magic. Flat soda, a sandwich with stale bread, and the blare of a taxi's horn as it was cut off. It felt like heaven to him.

Some of the agents wanted to keep him locked up when they dragged him with them, running away from that speedster. Adams had overruled them; Dean wasn't a threat when there was no magic for him to use. He liked Adams; the man worked with people who trafficked in magic, true, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and stuck to mundane solutions whenever he could. It was more than Dean could say about most of the people he knew in Rhy'Din.

He could feel the muscles around his shoulders grow taught, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He hadn't managed to rid that world of magic, true, but he was free of it. That would have to be enough. Adams had created a life for him, had gotten him started on a path to live a real, human, mundane life. All the agents wanted in return was his cooperation if magic came here - and he'd gladly destroy anything threatening his new life with the contamination of magic.

He was hit with a mild wave of nausea, and frowned. A thumb lifted a corner of bread and he peered down at the meat in his sandwich for a moment before throwing it away. He assumed the meat had gone bad, or perhaps the mayonnaise. The thought brought a smile to his face: how delightfully ordinary a problem.

---------------

((Daniel Dean's information is preserved here.))

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-24 00:14 EST
Dean had a few days to get acclimated to Irnsport before his new job started. He spent them walking around his neighborhood, taking the bus to the block his office would be on, and walking around that area. The nausea that had hit him on his first day as a free man came and went, and it had been joined by a mild headache that was always there. He didn?t let that dampen his spirits ? surely he had just gotten too used to the relatively clean air of that cursed place, and in time he?d become accustomed again to the pollution a proper human society created.

He wore a new suit, given to him with everything else he owned by the agents, when he walked into the office building for the first time. The receptionist directed him to a conference room where he?d start orientation. He didn?t yet know what his job would entail; his trainer would be a man placed with the company for the express purpose of finding places for people the agents had decided to relocate for some reason or another. When he arrived in the conference room, he found an attractive middle-aged woman sitting at the table, wearing a beige skirt suit. He introduced himself, and learned that her name was Angie and that she was another new employee.

If they were both being trained by an agent, he reasoned, she must be a transplant like he was. Maybe she had even been brought over from Rhy?Din. He fought to keep a smile on his face when he reached out to take any magic she might have and he instead felt a wave of increased nausea. She was clean, which was good enough for him, and he sat back to wait for their liaison to arrive, making small talk. When Mr. Smith arrived, they were both given a stack of paperwork to read through and fill out; he?d find them positions once they had finished.

By the end of the day, he had a position in human resources and a date with Angie for dinner the next weekend. Life in his new home was looking pretty good, and his headache and nausea had faded into the background, easy to ignore.

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-24 06:28 EST
That Friday night, Daniel Dean wore a dark blue shirt with black slacks. When he picked Angie up for their date, he gave her flowers, and held the car door for her. He?d been on his new world for a week and a half, and he was happy there. Even his feelings of illness couldn?t dampen his spirit. They?d decided on a casual restaurant, and Angie was wearing jeans and a loose white blouse which suited her.

Midway through their meal, awash in pleasant getting-to-know-you conversation, a wave of nausea hit Dean stronger than any yet. He hastily excused himself and rushed to the bathroom, where he fell to his knees in a stall and was violently ill. His head was pounding as he flushed the toilet and turned to sit, sweat dripping from his brow as he rested his head in his hands. There was a pounding in his temples, like his brain was trying to force its way out of his skull. This couldn?t merely be a reaction to pollution, he realized. That was when understanding hit him, a ball of ice in the pit of his recently vacated stomach.

It took a few minutes for the pain and nausea to fade to manageable levels, and a few more for him to compose himself. When he returned to the table, he was smiling, and explained the length of his absence with a story about how long it had taken the attendant to change the sanitizer in the wall-mounted dispenser. Whatever spark had started between them was gone, however, and he was bitter after he dropped her off at her front door.

He couldn?t go back there. He?d rather die.

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-24 17:40 EST
Daniel Dean was professional and efficient; if there would be any complaints against him, it would be that he seemed distant and distracted at all times. It didn?t seem to affect his performance, so if those complaints were made, they were ignored.

He was keeping his illness as secret as he could. The only ones that knew were Adams and a pharmacist that worked with the agency. He took his handful of pills on his lunch break, after furtively making sure no one was around who would see. They made everything seem fuzzy, kept his mouth dry, and made him make more trips to the rest room than he normally would, but they brought the pain in his head and the twist in his stomach to a level he could handle. The only way to make them go away would be to go back to a world where the very air pulsed with ambient magic, and he refused to do that.

One evening, when walking from the bus stop to his apartment, a man stepped out of an alley with a gun. The man was young, no career criminal; at least not yet. Dean thought he could scare the kid off without any major harm coming to either of them, and for a moment forgot that he was on a world without magic. He reached out his left hand to one side, instinctively seeking magic to draw in, while his right thrust forward. Had he been in Rhy?Din, he would likely have found a source of magic near enough for him to knock the boy back with a weak concussive blast.

He instead heard a keening cry, which he only recognized as his own voice when he felt the sidewalk come up to meet him. A deep fog had rolled over his vision, and the blood pounding in his ears was deafening. He was dimly aware of the mugger gawking down at him before running off. He didn?t feel sick this time; instead, his migraine had grown, until it seemed to encompass his entire body. When everything went black, he welcomed death.

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-25 20:56 EST
He heard voices.

?Where did you find her??

?Rhy?Din. One of the local recruits.?

?She doesn?t mind losing her magic??

?It wasn?t hers. A curse laid on her by someone she quarreled with.?

?In that case, why didn?t you use Dean to remove it earlier??

?It was minor, and she didn?t mind it. She says it helped her quit smoking. We considered using him, once we had him, but we felt that something like this might happen. Not many are imbued with magic and willing to lose it.?

?So she was a first aid kit??

V of the W

Date: 2008-07-25 20:57 EST
Dean woke up in a hospital bed. His arm ached where the IV line punched through his skin, but his head was clear and his stomach was calm. He knew that magic had saved his life, and felt a weary resignation.

?We?re sending you back to Rhy?Din.?

He started when he heard Adams? voice. He hadn?t realized that he wasn?t alone. He turned his head to regard the agent, who was sitting in a chair at the side of his bed. ?You can?t send me back there.?

?We can, and we will. You aren?t being given an option in this matter, Dean.? Adams shifted, sitting forward in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of his chest. ?We need someone there to prepare our secondary HQ for occupation, and you need to go back there to live.?

?No?? Dean?s protest was weak. He knew he would die without magic to draw on. He would prefer death, but he also knew that he would never be able to overpower any agents without magic as well, so they could easily force him through the gateway. ?Just? Kill me??

?I don?t think so. You?re too useful an asset to give up that easily. We will monitor you using the device we implanted when we took you from that dungeon. If you do as you are told, you will be rewarded in the end.?

?Rewarded. Right.?

?Oh, and one more thing, Dean.? Adams lowered his hands and stood. ?You?re on a leash. We?ll be watching, and I don?t want to hear about you doing any damage. No dead constructs. No depowered healers or mages. Do I make myself clear??

Dean scowled. Taking away that cursed power was the only thing that gave him any satisfaction in Rhy?Din. But he knew the agent would find a way to make his life even worse if he didn?t do as he was told. ??crystal.?