From: Bookwyrm@voyager.cris.com (BOOKWYRM)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Subject: NTB: Fortune's Wheel #1
Date: 9 Sep 1995 20:36:40 -0400

Fortune's Wheel #1

  My name is Rafael Fortune.  I'm the luckiest man alive.
  Cliched, I know.  Many people have said it, ranging from Lou Gehrig, to
most of the patriarchs of sitcom families [usually accompanied by a group
hug.]
  But life isn't a sitcom, and I'm not in the mood to hug anyone right
now.  I'm here to tell you my story. 
  It was late afternoon, on US-Air's flight from Chicago to San Diego.  I
was on my way back to Frisco, after doing a favor for some old friends. 
The vagaries of airline prices made going the long way, via San Diego,
cheaper than the direct route. 
  I'd just had a nasty-tasting chicken lunch, and was seriously thinking
about taking a nap.  The onboard movie was this fairly dull Hugh Grant
flick, and I just wasn't interested.  So, having read the in-flight
magazine for the nth time, I was bored. 
  A coughing from beside me interrupted my ennui.  The window seat next to
me[I was on the aisle] was occupied by a young boy, apparently traveling
alone.  Being that he also showed no interest in the film, I decided to
have a chat with him. 
  [Before you get any sick ideas, you should know that I don't swing that
way.  I like kids, is all.  There were a lot around where I grew up, and I
got used to talking to them at their level]
  "Boring, huh." 
  The boy brushed a few errant strands of hair from his eyes, and looked
at me, "I guess." 
  "I can see you are a master conversationalist." I smiled.  He didn't get
it, or he did, and thought it was lame.  Can't say I blame him. 
  Now, if I was an ordinary, normal adult, I'dve probably followed up with
"First time on an airplane?" 
  But I'm not.  So I decided to go with what I'm good at.  "You want to
see something really wild?" 
  He shrugged.  "Might as well.  If you drop your pants, you'll be singing
falsetto for a month." 
  "Nice to meet you too." This kid was going to be a tough audience. 
"However, I like being a baritone, and prefer my pants on, anyway.  So
instead, watch this.." 
  I raised my right hand, fingers curled.  "You don't smoke, do you?" 
  "I may be a kid, but I'm not stupid..." he sneered. 
  "Good for you.  I guess that means you don't need a light..." I snapped
my fingers, letting a tongue of flame ignite on the tip of my thumb. 
  "Cool..." the boy mumbled, impressed.  Good thing too.  I have a
reputation to uphold. 
  I let the flame burn for a moment, before blowing it out.  The chemicals
I'd placed on my thumb in my pocket aren't toxic, but one can never be to
careful. 
  The flame had broken the ice, so to speak.  The boy, who's name turned
out to be Alan, was indeed traveling alone.  Under some careful prodding
on my part, he admitted as much. 
  The story was an unfortunate one.  His parents had died, in his words,
"back when I was a kid."  He'd been raised by an aunt, who had recently
fallen ill, so they were shipping him off to a cousin. 
  I asked him if he was being met at the airport, only to be somewhat
surprised when he said no.  Although he was fairly intelligent for a
10-year old, he was still young. 
  Admittedly, when I was his age, I'd already killed a man in a duel, but
hey, that was the Renaissance. 
  Oh, yeah, did I mention I was 525 years old?  I'm not immortal or
anything.  I've just spent a lot of time in a place where time travels
faster than normal. 
  Anyway, back to Alan.  I guess it's the softie in me, but I decided to
keep an eye on him, at least until his cousin showed up.  I told him this,
and I guess he'd decided I wasn't a pervert after all, so he agreed. 
  I watched him try to light his thumb for a few minutes, then took a nap. 

  About an hour later, a gentle bong announced the return of the Seatbelt
sign, as the steward [yeah a man. Go fig.] announced our imminent arrival
in San Diego.  I had about an hour before my connecting flight, so there
should be plenty of time. 
  Alan, to my left, groaned slightly from his fetal position on his chair,
re-arranging himself into a more customary seating position.  The plane
began to descend, and once again I experienced the feeling of my brain
being shoved against my cranium. 
  [It's an acquired taste, but it helps when driving on the hills of San
Francisco.]
  The plane taxied to a halt.  And after about a half an hour, they
finally managed to get the ramp configured, and we disembarked. 
  Alan hefted a small rucksack, while I slung my duffel over my shoulder. 
We moved out into the aisle, which, luckily enough, was at least
temporarily bereft of traffic.  So, we were the first off the plane. 
  At the gate, Alan began scanning the crowd.  No one in particular seemed
to be looking for him.  In fact, the only people waiting for the plane
were a Chinese couple wearing the most hideous yellow hats I'd ever seen. 
  Alan began to look worried, so I asked him, "What's this cousin of
your's look like?" 
  "Um...I'm not sure.  Last time we met, I was like 3.  She was my
babysitter for a while.  I think she was in high school then." 
  OK, that wasn't helpful.  She was female, about 21-25.  "Hair color?" 
  "Brown?  She said she'd be holding a sign."  Alan's lower lip quivered
just a bit. 
  "Listen, have a seat.  I want to check at the counter." 
  As he slumped in a plastic chair, I went and did just that.  The woman
at the desk was most helpful. 
  "Yes, there was a woman about that age waiting for her cousin.  But she
was paged, and had to leave." 
  "Do you remember who paged her?" 
  "I'm sorry, but I can't give out that information." 
  I leaned over, and stared directly into her eyes. "Oh come on..you can
tell me." 
  "I can tell you.." she murmured in a monotone. "It was Magda, over in
Custom's." 
  "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it? Oh, I wasn't told a thing." 
  "You weren't told a thing." 
  I blew her a farewell kiss, leaving before the glamourie wore off.  When
you've lived with fairies as long as I have, you learn a few tricks. 
  On my way back to the dozing Alan, I checked on my flight.  It had been
canceled, due to an engine failure.  Just my luck.  So, I collected Alan,
and we moved off to Customs. 
  Magda wasn't nearly as helpful.  A Teutonic battleship of a woman, she
was strong enough to withstand a mild glamour.  In fact, you might say she
and glamour had nothing in common. 
  [You might, but I wouldn't.  It's not that funny]
  Still, I was beholden to help Al out of his mess.  I'd made a promise,
and one of the things I always do, is keep my word.  It's an honor thing. 
  While Alan fiddled with a Game Boy he'd extracted from his pack, I went
on a little fishing expedition. 
  "Look, I understand your position," I whispered, moving in
conspiratorially, "but I'm worried about the kid..." 
  "Jah, I can see that..." 
  "So can't you tell me anything? Anything at all?"  I placed my hand on
her arm. 
  It was all to easy.  She had to think about what she could tell me, and
since I was in physical contact with her, I saw everything. 
  Alan's cousin had indeed been here.  But Magda hadn't done it for
herself, but for a pair of gentlemen who claimed to be with the FBI.  This
would be trickier than I thought. 
  Finally, she told me "I'm sorry, but I cannot help the boy." 
  "I understand." 

  Two hours later, I had Alan checked into a hotel.  I didn't plan on
staying long, but Murphy being who he is, I thought the kid would at least
have fun at the pool. 
  He went to the pool, clad in baggy swim trunks.  I set my duffel on one
of the beds, and began digging through it. 
  The new sunglasses I set aside.  They were an unknown quantity, and I
didn't have time to figure them out.  I paused over the brocade gauntlet,
but set it aside as well.  Even though I sniffed a trap, there shouldn't
be a need for an elvensword. 
  I unpacked my coat, combing out the fringe on the epualets.  I'd found
it at an antique clothing store, along with a lot of old clown costumes. 
I suppose, considering my profession, I should have bought the top hat
too, but I don't look good in hats. 
  I brushed my hair back with my hand.  I looked like some kind of street
performer.  Which of course, was precisely the idea.  There's money to be
made busking, if you are lucky. 
  Now was the hard part.  I had to give myself up completely to chance. 
Walking out into the twilight, I headed out into the streets of San Diego. 
I saw a young man, all dressed in black leather.  If this was Frisco, I'd
say he was hustling. 
  Here, though, I guessed he was waiting for a bus.  I decided to wait
with him.  About 20 seconds later, the bus drove into view, and we got on. 
It turned out this was a free shuttle, so I didn't need the token I didn't
have. 
  It dropped us off in Old Town, San Diego's Mexican neighborhood.  There
was a street festival going on.  I tried some chili, and was propositioned
by three senoritas, two of which I might have accepted on another
occasion. 
  The third, however, was much more robust.  Making several vague excuses
[I believe the last was "I have to go wash my goldfish"] I ducked into a
side street. 
  Leaving the noises of the festival behind, I moved into a small square. 
A sudden shout caught my ear. 
  "Where is it, bitch?  We know you know, you know." 
  There are two things I can't stand.  One of them, is rudeness.  The
other...is another story. 
  "I don't know!  I keep telling you, I don't know!" came a pleading
reply.  A smack echoed over the terracotta roofs.  I got a bit mad. 
  The first voice continued to harangue the poor woman, giving me ample
information to track his voice.  It came from a small shop, across the
square. 
  I paused for a bit, casting as mask over my appearance.  Then I knocked
on the door.  Hard.  Repeatedly.  The gruff voice halted in mid-rant,
directing someone named Benson to see who it was. 
  The door opened, and a black-suited gentleman stood before me. 
  "C'mon man *hic*, leshh party!" I slurred. 
  "You have the wrong house." he replied coldly. 
  "Don' you 'member me, Benny?  We had such great *burp*, schuse me,
times!" 
  "Do you know this drunken street refuse, Benson?"  came the voice from
above. 
  "No, Mr. Hedges.  I swear!"  Benson replied, sweating slightly. 
  "Then get rid of him!" 
  Benson bobbed his head. "Yes, Mr. Hedges." 
  Then he pulled a gun on me, and fired.  Luckily the coat is fully
warded, so the bullet stopped.  I plucked it out of the air. 
  "Now, thash not nice.  Take a nap." 
  Already shaky at the sight of a bulletproof wino, Benson was wide open
for the charm.  So he fell like he'd been hit with a slice of lemon
[wrapped around a brick]. 
  I walked in further, straightening up as the drunk disguise faded. 
  "Most impressive." Hedges called from the top of the stairs.  He held a
gun to the head of a young lady, about 23, with short brown hair. 
  Quelle surprise.  "Excuse me, miss.  Do you have a cousin named Alan?" 
  The girl frowned, then nodded.  Hedges didn't like this at all. "Don't
try any tricks, fool.  I can't miss at this range." 
  I remember the first time I went auroch hunting.  The Huntsman taught me
a lot about predators and prey.  He also taught me how he scares the sh*t
out of his targets. 
  I stood silent, letting my gaze fall upon Hedges.  Then I started
growling, softly at first, and let the magic flow between us. 
  Hedges was tough, but as the growl grew in intensity, the power
increased.  His mundane shields were no match.  As the rage filled his
mind, he went deathly pale. 
  "Let her go." I said in a fair imitation of the Huntsman's rough tone. 
  Hedges did so.  I walked up to the girl, sniffing at the slight scent of
bodily fluid the quivering Hedges emitted.  The Hunter had mentioned that
too. 
  "Your cousin awaits, my dear."  I said, offering her my arm. 
  She slid her arm around mine.  "Call me Lily." 
  "A lovely name, for a lovely woman."  We walked out of the shop,
drifting back to the hotel. 
  On the way, she told me what had occured.  Apprarently those two were
waiting for a Lily O'Donnell.  As she was Lily O'Connell, it was a natural
mistake. 
  Back at the hotel, I knocked on the door. "Rafe?  Izzat you?" 
  "No, it's the tooth fairy.  Open up!"  I motioned Lily to stand behind
me. 
  Alan opened the door, rubbing his eyes. 
  "Is this yours?"  I stepped to one side. 
  "Lily?" 
  "Alan?" 
  They hugged each other, then each hugged me.  What could I say?  They
had me pinned. 

  Well, it was too late for me to catch a flight to Frisco, so I sent Alan
back to bed, and got another room for myself. 
  As for Lily....let's just say I got lucky....

  TO BE CONTINUED...

  Next Time: Farewells, and a homecoming.

**************************************************************
  Mario "The Bookwyrm" Di Giacomo: bookwyrm@voyager.cris.com
  Visit the Bookwyrm's Lair at http://www.cris.com/~bookwyrm
"Writers, by definition, have tremendous egos"- Harlan Ellison