Wiz-Cops (Borkasu Lazer and WanderingWriter)

[Borkasu Lazer]

WELCOME TO M.W.D (Monolith Warden Department)DIRECT PRIVATE SCRYING BALL ACCESS TERMINAL

PLEASE ENTER CORRECT RUNIC SET INSCRIPTION

" Need to ask Technician Davis to update the rune inscription. It's too outdated...."
...PROCESSING...

AUTHENTICATION VERIFIED. PLEASE STATE COMMAND

"Enter Chat-Room with Council Member Eliziar"

...PROCESSING REQUEST...

...INITIATING STABLE CONNECTION ON THE ASTRAL PLANE...

WARNING: CONVERSATION WILL BE RECORDED AS PER COUNCIL RULE-

" I know. I'm the one who created it. "

CHAT-ROOM CREATED.PLEASE ENJOY

" Eliziar, I need to speak with you on your decision. "

" My colleague, there is nothing more that needs to be spoken. Barrow has been dealt with suitably and he has received a suitable punishment for his misdemeanor."

" And do you believe that everyone on the Council or in this Department has the same belief as you?"

" I know only of a few mutterings and complaints. Unwarranted accussations-"

" I'm inclined to agree with them, Eliziar. Misdemeanor is a understatement. What he did, this punishment is far more lenient than it should be."

" He has been demoted accordingly to the equivalent of a mall-cop which is unfitting for a man of his talents. Both in status and power."

" When did we start demoting our own wardens for breaking one of our most sacred-"

" Did you come here to just bellyache to me, Codson? The decision has already been finalized."

" .....Fine. I see there is no point to arguing with you anymore, Eliziar. I merely came to warn you of the future ramifications of your actions. The precedent that you have set. Setting him up with a unknown individual, worst of all, related to Murphy...."

" ...Hard times call for new measures, Codson..."

" Enough. Just...enough. I will never know how you were appointed Head Council Member in the first place."

(END CONVERSATION)

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

There were many days to start a morning. Your naked girlfriend calling for you sleepily on the other side of your bed. Your pet pawing or licking, whichever action may seem endearing to the person, at your face. Waking up with a bad headache and a drunken stupor. A large passenger pigeon yelling expletives with all the fervor of a patriot would be considered extra-ordinary.

It was considered ordinary to him.

The damned pigeon was yelling with a voice that sounded like it had been amplified through a megaphone. It was slightly muffled from his position underneath the blankets, but he, even with all his patience, couldn't ignore it for long. The bird trotted painfully along the cover of blankets, thin feet digging into his skin before it began the monotonous process of pecking his head like a jackhammer.

" GET YOUR ASS UP, WARDEN! "

" THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM, SUNSHINE! AND THE LATE BIRD GETS EATEN BY THE FUCKING WORM!"

" COME ON, YOU WORTHLESS WARLOCK. THOSE NECROMANCERS AND DARK WIZARDS AIN'T GOING TO TAKE THE FIGHT-"

His hand shot up from the blankets, grabbing a large knarled oak rod from the side of the table, intricately dressed in sigils and runes, before pointing it at the avian offender that was standing in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot and he had a rusty scowl on his face. Before the pidgeon could react, he mouthed out a phrase with a cold tone.

" Hrinda"

The bird squawked as a bolt of force emanated from the rod, causing a puff of feathers to be where it once was, as it hit the window with a loud thump. He aimed his rod at the still body, waiting for any sudden movements before relaxing and slumping back down to his bed again. Unfortunately, the bird stood up and preened it's feathers before barking out once more.

" You do that to me again, Warden, and I swear to god, I will peck your eye out!"

Smacking his lips, he peered towards the clock that was hanging on the wall in front of him. Left hand to 2. Right hand to 7. The curtains were drawn open and the sound of beeping horns and the buzz of muttering people were ever so present outside. He muttered from his shawl of blankets as he covered himself up some more, trying to shield himself away from the sunlight that radiated throughout the dingy apartment.

" Try it."

The passenger pidgeon then flew over towards the man and with unnatural strength, hoisted the man up by his shoulders and tossed him onto the floor daintily.The man groaned as he stood up, rubbing his forehead, and scratching his unshaven loose stubble. He then glared at the bird who just cocked his head absent-mindlessly at him, waiting for a reply. Walking towards the shower-room, he closed the door with a bang and began the daily process of bodily hygiene. He grumbled from behind the bathroom door, as rivulets of water began to emanate from the shower-head.

" Can you try not to be a annoying pain-in-my-ass familiar next time, Pogo?"

His bird began to shout all manners of expletives out towards him, new ones in fact, as he began the process of shaving his messy stubble. Some wizards like him preferred to use a cutting curse or a overcomplicated spell to produce a clean shave but he'd preferred the old way. A way that the old geezers saw as primitive, savage and unfitting for a wizard like him.

Who could blame him for liking the minty smell of aftershave?

He tapped the razor against the porcelain of the sink before soaking it under the stream of clear tap-water and dousing his face. He then looked at himself haggardly in the mirror. The visage of a thin-faced, Caucasian, mousy man looked back at him. Adorning himself in a buttoned shirt and a pair of tough, denim work jeans that were fraying at the edges, he strode out of the bathroom, grumpy, his shoulders slumping.

Pogo appeared to take a sniff at him as he looked underneath the bed and took out a satchel that rattled as he pulled it out from underneath the cob-webbed floor. He tossed it on the bed and began to mutter out loud to no one in particular but to himself.

" Healing potions....Check....Scrying Ball....Check.....Rune Scrolls......Infused sliver nitrate....Check..."

Pogo flapped over and landed on his shoulder before making a offhand comment.

" You smell better than yesterday."

Barrow looked at his familiar, surprised for a moment, before lifting up a rusted service revolver, cocking and uncocking it, before putting it back inside the satchel. Pogo wasn't usually one for compliments.

" Yeah?"

" You smell like cat shit. Which is better than smelling like a dumpster."

He should have known better than to expect Pogo to flip personalities on a dime. He then shouldered the latch of his satchel before taking off one of his many trench-coats from the hanger near to the door. He brushed off any remaining motes of dust on his trusty jacket before opening the door, lifting his hand for a moment, expecting his channeling rod to fly towards his hand. He felt a burn and a tinge of pain, only in response. Barrow signed as he walked back, grabbing his oak staff, and then, going out the door, locking it.

Pogo appeared to hold in a chortle for a second, or at least, that was what Barrow inferred from the swelling of his chest.

" Barrow, you still have your feathers clipped, you understand that, right?"

Barrow looked at the glowing rune on his hand, burning intensely for a moment before it faded. His damned punishment. It was akin to declawing a cat or removing a shark of it's teeth. He tried to go along another avenue of conversation as he pressed the elevator button to the ground floor.

" What's our schedule for today?"

Pogo scratched his head before listing down a long litany of events.

" Well, usual patrol down by the Bronx and around the streets. Standard 10 hours with breakfast, lunch and dinner breaks in between. What else....I think I'm still missing something......"

Pogo then snapped his claws and then, appeared to smirk towards Barrow.

" You've got a new patrol partner.....If I remember that notice from the Council, she should be waiting for us outside any moment now. The designated meeting time was at 7:00 if I remember...."

Barrow looked at his wrist-watch and froze. 8:00. The elevator dinged just in time as Barrow pinched his nose and looked up to the heavens.

" You gotta be fucking kidding me."

@WanderingWriter​

 

[WanderingWriter]

The struggles of everyday life always seemed rather daunting. You had to force yourself to get out of your comfy bed and then try to make it through the day without strangling someone. That, of course, was if you had even made it that far. For most though, it was a series of getting up and going to school, sitting through lectures, doing homework, and hoping that after it all you'd never have to do any of that again. Unfortunately, for Elizabeth, her day was going to be a different level tumultuous all together.

It had been about a week since the last incident, which was the reason she was now in the position she was in. They called themselves Monolith. They had taken her against her will, or saved her from a worse fate, either way she was no longer in control of her own circumstances. She had become a prisoner to something that she didn't even know existed, and until recently would've dismissed as a child's overactive imagination.

Magic was real.

Over the course of a few days, she had been interrogate, forced to sit through long, lengthy, and quite boring explanations. All of which essentially said the same thing; Due to her recent "accident" she was deemed unsafe to be unsupervised out in the general public. With that, she was given two choices...although, it really seemed like only one. She was either to remain incarcerated under their ever watchful eye, where she figured that she would end up tortured, cut up, and studied or something. The other option, that to her seemed barely better, was that she could work for them, so that she could retain her freedom and they could still keep tabs on her. Izzy didn't even truly get a moment to tell them off or give them a piece of her mind before she was told that they had contacted her sister, Charlotte, under the guise of making a reference called, and had talked to her at length about her being hired.

So, adding up being attacked by what appeared to be some sort of misshapen wild animal, being jumped and blacking out a few weeks later, and then being blackmailed in a sense to join up with a group of people that should only exist in storybooks. It was safe to say that Izzy was less than pleased with how things had turned out.

"Izzy! I sweat to God! If you're late on your first day...," Charlotte's voice boomed from the other side of a locked bedroom door.

Izzy kicked her legs violently under the covers, imagining kicking her sister to get her to be quite, she didn't want to do any of this. She rolled over and looked at the time. Five-fucking-thirty in the morning...are you serious!

"Five more minutes, please," she strained her voice, having just earlier been roused by the banging at her bedroom door, "I just need a little more time."

Charlotte, although her older sister, acted very much like she was her mother. Their father, Benjamin Shaylan Abernathy, was the Mayor and every busy, but would always make time for his girls where he could. However, since he was usually busy, even before Elizabeth was in the picture, Charlotte had been forced to grow up rather quickly. This led to her being quite mature, very responsible, and with the addition of a younger sister...she became extremely motherly. She was a beautiful natural redhead with a light peppering of freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose and went under both eyes just passed her cheeks. She had gotten an internship with the local paper last year, but found her place with a lesser known paper, Astral Times, which allowed her to work from her apartment, most of the time.

The sound of the locked being turned and the door being opened could be heard, and Izzy gripped the covers as she tried to curl herself into a ball. Moments later, a ferocious tug-o-war battle began, where Charlotte attempted to disband the covers from their rightful place, wrapped about Izzy, while Izzy attempted to stay within the comfy confines of her bed. Izzy found it hard to understand how a girl standing at 5'4 could muster the strength to yank around her 5'8 younger sibling, but the thought was lost to her as she felt the combination of weightlessness and sudden contact with the bedroom floor.

"Damn it! I'm up, okay! Leave me alone!" Izzy shouted from her crumpled state on the floor, still mostly covered by the comforter. She sounded exactly like a child pleading for their parent to stop.

"I don't want to hear it," Charlotte replied, unraveling her sister from the comforter, and throwing it back on the bed, "You look ridiculous. I'm up this early so you can get a jump start on your first day, so go shower up, and by the time you're done, breakfast should be ready." With that, Charlotte left the room.

Izzy slowly rolled herself to a sitting position leaning back against her bed. The two of them lived in the same apartment building, on different ends of the same floor. A Charlotte move, obviously, as she wanted to be able to keep tabs on her younger sister. Izzy didn't mind, for the most part, knowing that her sister meant well, but it was situations like today that made her really hate their proximity to one another. A few deep breaths later, the oversized T-shirt wearing auburn-haired Izzy made her way to the bathroom for a shower. As she bathed, she couldn't help but ponder on what all had transpired recently.

"Magic, Wizards, witches..." she muttered to herself, still trying to cope with her new reality, "This is ridiculous." She looked at the bracelet that adorned her right wrist.

She was told to always keep that on, as it was both a repellent and a suppressor. She hadn't really been listening to the details of the explanation, but it appeared that it would keep incidents like the first two that she encountered from happening. That was all she needed to know about its use. She finished bathing and drying off, walking to her closet wrapped in her towel. She was supposed to meet up with her new supervisor or whatever at 7:00, so she still had more than enough time to try to decide on an outfit. She wasn't sure what would best fit the situation, so she opted for a pair of blue fashion worn form-fitted jeans, a white undershirt with a black Supernatural, the TV show, shirt over it. She grabbed her black Michael Kors double-breasted hooded trench coat.

The breakfast spread was magnificent as usual; Scrambled eggs with chees, sausage, bacon, grits, biscuits, waffles, and French toast. Izzy rolled her eyes, knowing that this level of breakfast took more time than a few minutes to put together, meaning that her sister had been in here for a while preparing breakfast before she even tried to wake her. The two chatted about upcoming movies they wanted to see, apartment gossip, and the next event that they'd have to go to with their dad, as they ate. When 6:35am rolled around, Charlotte made her to give Izzy the address to where she was supposed to go, and then hugged and kissed her sister before leaving. Even though her job allowed her to work from her apartment, she still had to go to meetings at the office and check in for other various reasons.

As she finished up cleaning the kitchen area, she made her way down to the garage. She had been gifted a classic, out of highschool, a 1967 black Impala. Over the years she's made a few upgrades to it, but that had more to do with the inner workings of the car than anything, she liked the classic look it had. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to meet there on foot or drive, but decided to was better to have the car than not.

She was certainly glad she had opted for the car, because after parking at the designated meet point it was going on 8:00 and no one had showed yet, she rolled her eyes as she took another look around to see if anyone even looked like they were approaching. She laid on the horn in frustration before taking out her phone and playing Dancing Line.

"Are you fucking serious." She muttered under her breath, trying to decide how long she needed to wait before she just called it.

@Borkasu Lazer
​

 

[Borkasu Lazer]

Averton Avenue, High-water Residences, 3543, had been Barrow's current place of domicile ever since he'd been forced to move out from his designated Council laboratory. It wasn't all that bad, normal for mortal standards, but to wizards, if Oscar the Grouch was a wizard, it would have been where he would have lived. For starters, no standard magical wards in order to stop any intrusions by magical creatures. That was to be expected. After all, the Council wouldn't just simply commission the creation of standard wards for a case such as him.

But, the most important part was home. Barrow didn't feel at home here, in the middle of New York's most busiest urban area. It was unfamiliar and like a stranger that had been forced upon his lap. Home was important to a wizard. Both literally and figuratively. His last home, located in the North American Woods, safe and solitary, had been created by him with his bare hands. There was a feeling of pride within it when he'd poured his heart and soul into the building of the damn thing. Unfortunately, the last of that pride had vanished when the Council ordered his entire dwelling to be burnt down and reduced. Only a few trinkets and items necessary for a wizard to live the life of a wizard were allowed to be transferred back to his new residence.

He should have been glad that the Council was more lenient than it was. This was considered a slap on the hand and he knew it. So, why did he still feel some semblance of anger?

The elevator dinged and the doors shimmied open slowly as Barrow walked out, brushing by a motley crew of socializing teenagers, a fraternity party by the looks of it, as he made his way towards the door. On-lookers gave furtive glances at his apparel and the fact that there was an actual bird on his shoulders. But, of course, they'd gotten used to it since he'd moved in about three weeks ago. Sure, there were a few incidents but the Council had made sure to intervene in any activity that would oust his status as a wizard.

The parking lot was sparse with only a few cars in it. He whispered to Pogo who was currently day-dreaming on his shoulder, murmuring something about 'sesame seeds'.

" Hey, Pogo. Where the hell is my partner?"

Pogo perked up and then, scanned the horizon, before pointing a wing towards a black car.

" There. Fits the description the Council gave a notice. I gotta say that she's got taste. Nice suburban vehicle. Creates a good impression, you know what I'm saying?"

Barrow rolled his eyes before stuffing his rod inside his satchel, leaving it hanging out from the zipper before striding with a steady pace towards the car. Pogo whispered towards him.

" You think she'll be pissed?"

Barrow brushed Pogo's beak away from his ear.

" Why didn't you wake me up earlier before?"

Pogo again made another expression that Barrow swore meant to express his lack of reaction.

" Must have skipped my mind."

With all the grace of a wizard and the subtlety of a man, Barrow rapped his hand three times on the window before trying to wave slightly towards her. Pogo summed up his thoughts on the situation.

" Nice going, mister Wizard."

@WanderingWriter​

 

[WanderingWriter]

Izzy had sat idly for the first fifteen minutes, occupying her time with apps on her phone and people watching. This area seemed normal enough to her, a bit of a different vibe and feel to it than where she stayed. The area was certainly more urban as she could see University students walking about on their way to early morning classes and the like. As 7:35 came around, she was slightly irritated, second-guessing herself if she was suppose to be here at 7am. The people that she was dealing with gave off a strict vibe, so she was sure that they would've been punctual.

She had noticed a few passerby's eyeing her, or perhaps the car, or possibly both. A few guys even tapped on her glass to get her attention, an act that she took great offense to. It wasn't so much that they were touching something that didn't belong to them, so much as it was a combination of finding herself in a position that she had little to no control over on top of everything else. She politely shot down the few advances that came her way in the next twenty minutes.

As it neared 8am she pulled her wallet out, drawing from it a business card that she had been given by one of the people who she had talked to a few weeks ago. 'What kind of name is Eliziar' she thought to herself as she began to type the cellphone number in to her phone. She was told that if there was any issue to give notice. As she punched the number in, she selected the text option and began writing;

I've been at the meet point for an hour and there's nobody here, what should I do?

She sat looking at the text and the time, 7:57am. She opted she'd wait until 8:05, her anxiety and irritation rising. She didn't want the first day of whatever this was to start off with her immediately having to contact those people with a problem, namely because she felt that she was already in edgy territory with them. It didn't feel wise to bother people who had once considered having you locked away for something you had no control over. Thinking on all that, now, had certainly put her in a bad mood. She stared blankly at her phone as she replayed the last few weeks in her mind.

There came another rapping at her window. This time, however, the interruption to her train of thought had been the boiling point of her frustration. She put her phone down on the center console, turned off her car, opened the driver side door, and got out, never once looking to see who was tapping. She was talking even before she was standing fully outside the car.

"I'm really getting tired of this! No, you can't have my number and I appreciate the compliments on the car. Stick shift jokes are also-,"

She stopped talking as she turned to face who was on the other side of her car. The sight had caught her off guard, or to be more accurate, the pigeon on the guy's shoulder. Her face went through a few shifts as did her mood; present had been anger, followed by confusion, then irritation, and now curiosity.

She now titled her head slightly trying to put together all the information that she was seeing. A decent looking guy, albeit a little gaunt looking, with a pigeon on shoulder. He appeared older than the rest of the guys that had approached her, perhaps an eccentric professor or professor's aide, the pigeon was throwing off her train of thought. As no words came to her, she found herself instead pointing questionably to the pigeon, and then realizing that she had been squinting her eyes at the peculiar sight, she found her voice again.

"What's with the rat with wings?"

She cocked an eyebrow and even chuckled a bit. Her daunting morning had become slightly more entertaining. She hadn't forgotten about the text she planned to send, but figured that it could at least wait until this exchange was over before sending off her grievance.

"A strange choice of pet, don't ya think?"

She had been so caught up with the pigeon on the guy's shoulder that the recognition hadn't hit her quite yet. Now, as he looked at the man on the other side closer, she began to recognize him as the person she was suppose to meet up with. When she had been finally released after accepting the terms of being able to live a semblance of a normal life, she was given a photo of the man who was now in control of her fate. This man, with a pigeon on his shoulder, was the man in that photo.

"Ummm...," she stammered as the realization hit her, "I'm sorry..." the words sort of shot out, as she wasn't sure what to say, her brain desperately fighting for a way out of this situation, "Sleep well?" she decided to play on the fact that he was about an hour late or so, trying to distance herself from the uncalled for attack on whatever reason he was carrying a pet pigeon. However, now knowing who it was she was talking to, she had to know. "Could you explain this though? I mean, I'm guessing you plan to wear your...pet in my car?"

@Borkasu Lazer
​

 

[Borkasu Lazer]

Barrow looked non-plussed at her outburst of anger, calmly shifting his hands inside his pocket while waiting for her to kindly ope nthe door. After all, he did arrive one hour...late. Oh right. His sound began to mute out from his ear. Barrow bristled internally as a drop of sweat slid down his forehead. He already had enough, what, with every senior Warden in the Monolith breathing down his back, the muzzle placed onto his magic, the loss of his home, the snarky comments from his upstairs neighbours about 'the weirdo' who needed to be kicked out by management. Fuck it, he already had enough on his platter right -

" OI, WHO YA CALLIN' A PET! I AM A FULLY FLEDGED FAMILIAR, THANK YOU VER-"

Pogo then squeaked as Barrow grabbed his familar by the neck and shoved him down one of his coat pockets roughly, feathers strewn everywhere. Barrow looked daggers at Pogo as the pidgeon popped his head out, looking petulantly at his master.

" What the hell did you do that for?"

Barrow shifted his head slightly towards the direction of passerby's before chuckling and waving towards them.

" Sorry! Anger management issues. Children. Uh....."

The onlookers shrugged and continued on with their daily lives while Barrow looked down at Pogo.

" Are you calm now?"

Pogo muttered back unintelligably. Barrow raised an eyebrow.

" Yes! Now, can you please let me out of this pocket before I vomit?"

Barrow shook his head, slightly laughing before letting out his familiar. Pogo took his place on his master's shoulder, ruffling his feathers. Barrow then looked at his partner before replying to her last question.

" Yeah. But, as you learnt just now, don't refer to Pogo as a pet. Hell, I'm wondering why you didn't take offense to 'rat with wings'."

Pogo looked side-ways and replied back.

" It's true. How can I blame her for that one when every one of my lesser minded brethren choose to shit on everything they see?"

Barrow snorted before looking back at his partner. He looked at the door and then, at her.

" Uh...Can I enter the car?"​

 

[WanderingWriter]

She stood a bit frozen to the scene as it transpired, only coming back to the moment at her partner's question.

"Ummm, yeah."

Izzy sat back in the car, hitting the unlock button, and waiting for her two new occupants to get themselves situated. She turned the engine over and tuned the radio to the local radio station. Ed Sheeran's "Shape of You" was playing, she turned the volume down so that they could easily talk over it. She had a few questions.

"So...a familiar, huh? What's it do?"

She had read stories and seen movies where a witch had a talking cat or something, but they didn't really seem to do anything except make witty or sarcastic comments. This whole debacle she found herself in was quite the baffling one, but after being held by those people for some time, she had come to understand that there was much that she didn't know or understand. A world of magic existed, and these people were put in place to keep such things under wraps and under control. It still seemed unimaginable, even under the circumstances, but here she was being forced into a job where she'd be working with a wizard detective or something. Her thoughts were all over the place, so she found it hard to recall the basic information that she had been given when she had agreed to her participation with their demands. However, she recalled where they would be going, and shifted gears along the way towards the Bronx.

"So, you're like a wizard then? Or whatever the male-version of a witch would be. How could something like this even be happening and other people outside of you all not know about this? This seems like something the government would have there hands all over," she contemplated for a moment, "Or maybe that's exactly what this is..."

She was beginning to get a bit of a headache dealing with this all face-to-face. It had all seemed so surreal when she had been detained. She had no memory of the initial attack, and only had strange dreams and flashes of the second incident. The ones that detained her refused to give her any details, simply giving her the run-down of what they had originally planned for her and what secondary option they'd allow her to chose. She recalled being questioned, though they were strange ones, and the longer she tried to recall the entire experience, the more muddled the memory became.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she stammered, as they continued to drive, "It's just been a crazy morning. Let's try this once more. Name's Elizabeth, I get that your pigeon is Pogo, and you are...?"

She wished that she could recall the name of the person that she had been assigned to, but her mind was running too fast for her to process. Plus, this whole situation was simply a reminder that she was not in control of her own fate. She had been gifted this job, as the alternative was never setting foot in the outside world again. To her, that sounded like she was going to be put down. Thoughts of running away had been cast out, as the ones that held her explained the futility of such actions. She had metaphorically been handcuffed to her current set of circumstances, and with that came a certain level of resentment. ​