12

You'd think that you would have fallen asleep immediately after a crazy night like that. Unfortunately Soon-Yi seems to be a twitchy sleeper and you end up getting kneed in the thigh a couple of times before you both rearrange yourself so you're spooning her instead. Then you pass the fuck out for a while.

When you wake up the next time there's light shining through the blinds that you can see even through a ton of silky black hair all over your face. Your left arm is dead from the girl in front of you laying on it and your right is being held in a deathgrip. What's more confusing are the breasts pressing in to your back and the arm that's wedged in between Soon and yourself. You take a moment to extend your mind sense and try to figure out which hand is rubbing the hair of your happy trail and decide that it's Savannah. For a while you just breathe in the faintly sweet scent of Soon's hair until the girl behind you finally seems to realize you're awake and snatches her hand back and rolls off the bed. You chuckle and begin extracting yourself from Soon-Yi's bear-trap like grasp. You murmur the diagnostic while you're close and the sleeping girl seems fine, coming up as infection-free and while she was still low on blood it was starting to make a recovery. After that it was the work of another minute or two but you manage to get free and sit on the edge of the bed. Four pairs of amused eyes (and one blushing pair) stare back at you as you try to shake some feeling into your left arm.

Sierra sits on the bed next to you, grabs your dead arm and does something that apparently makes your face look amusing because the girls dissolve in quiet giggles as the dreadlocked girl prods feeling back into you.

"Thanks, Miss Magic Fingers."

Another wave of giggles rolls through the room and you get a nastily sharp poke from the girl, who has a blush you can actually see on her dark skin. Susan cuts in and offers you a mug of coffee which you decline, and once your left arm's back in working condition Sarah makes her way to the mattress in front of you and holds out her arm expectantly.

"You're not hungover," you point out softly, then smirk when she pouts at you. Luckily, you had done some quick research on the internet for just such an occasion and scoot forward while slowly moving your hands towards her hair. "This is just for relaxation, not pain."

Sarah freezes when your fingers slide through her hair just over her ears and cup the back of her head. With soft pressure you gently scratch at her scalp and try to cast a low-powered cheering charm. It only takes two tries to work and her eyes go wide when the charm takes effect. "Fuck, magic hands," she almost purrs.

Of course you are then pretty much required to do the same to each of the girls. Sierra demurs at first because of the dreadlocks but switching the massage points to her temples works perfectly fine. The only downside is that Soon-Yi seems to have been awoken by the noise and she drags herself upright and hangs her legs off the bed only to lean against your side. You give her the same treatment along with a casting of the simple painkiller and she murmurs something you think might be Korean and lays her head down in your lap.

"Soon doesn't feel like she has a fever which is good, but you're gonna need to monitor that if any of you have a thermometer." You peel the dressing off of her wound and use the last of the gauze and antibacterial ointment to re-do it with Karen's help. "And since I doubt she's changed her mind come up with some kind of decent story to tell the nurse or clinic or whatever." You poke Soon in the nose and she looks up at you like a grumpy kitten. "Don't wait too long either. I'm not a miracle worker, if there's an infection or something like that it needs to be dealt with sooner than later."

Grumbling stomachs—including yours—finally persuade everyone to get up, dressed, and make your way towards the cafeteria. You find yourself walking under a warming charm with Savannah having stolen your coat. The girls swirl around you chatting amongst themselves and occasionally bringing you into the conversation.

After eating you're nursing a cup of tea and trying to come up with a polite way of disappearing when Susan gives you a look. Pulling her hair over her shoulder she leans in and says, "You're full up on conversation for the day, aren't you?"

You huff out a little laugh. "Sorry, was it obvious?"

"I'm like that with the girls sometimes. Just give out some hugs and go, otherwise Soon and Savannah will have you here all day."

Luckily Susan's advice works out well, you're able to escape after a few minutes of exchanging phone numbers, giving out hugs, and ransoming your coat back from the southern girl in exchange for a second dose of 'magic hands'. You check everything over to make sure nothing's been lost before finding a safe spot and apparating to your lair.

You spend the rest of the morning cleaning up the third floor and erecting a couple of walls. Some decorative art (actually old Transfiguration practice pieces) enchanted with warming charms makes it pretty comfortable, and you set aside spaces for potions brewing and rune carving so you're not mixing workspaces. You also take the time to pull a big four-poster bed out of storage and set up a bedroom here so you have the option to sleep in either location. Around lunchtime you take a moment to search through the book section for something about contraceptive charms.

Your searches bear fruit when you summon out a pamphlet with notes in the margins. It lays out a set of basic contraceptive charms for male and female that last for about a day, then goes on to list longer-term options including a couple of potions. The notes around the spell section point out that 'runic-cast versions would last months, and ritual versions would be permanent until dispelled'. The notes also detail a couple of…. supplementry charms that with a little reading between the lines look like they have an affect on your refectory period and create lube respectively.

Taking the time for some follow-up on the attack on the party you read through a couple of threads on PHO and watch the associated videos. Neither you nor the girls seem to appear anywhere in the ones that haven't been pulled offline already. It looks like you chose to leave at the right time as well, as the noises you had heard were grenades. Miss Militia and Merchant backup had arrived around the same time and things had ended in a destroyed cloaked truck-thing and about half the Merchants on site taken into custody. All the partygoers went through a lengthy process of vetting that didn't see them home until past dawn although the dude who got shot lived, so that's good.

With the increased… volatility of the Merchants you're even more willing to look in to the Cooks Avenue brownstone. It's probably not a warehouse, maybe a distribution facility, but maybe you can get some idea as to what's prompted the recent changes.

You nap the later afternoon away and wake again after sundown. You pull out the dragonhide(?) outfit and slide yourself into it and feel it seal together and shrink to fit you like a second skin. Actually, you spend a couple of minutes posing in front of a mirror because damn.

After prying yourself away from being narcissistic you supplement your armor with dark jeans, a dark blue hoodie, and a grey scarf. No reason to look like a cape, you're just a guy investigating a suspicious place, right? Checking over your load out you make sure your spare wand is close at hand and grab a few wardstones you had used for pratice—they won't last long, but you could use them to set up a temporary blind or something if needed.

You apparate to the alcove you had previously used and immediately begin scanning around you for people. The building you're against still seems empty so after checking it over you look inside and apparate there. Wand out you head up the stairs and find the roof access, letting yourself out with a quick alohamora. Once outside you drop a notice-me-not wardstone and fire up the supersensory charm along with a warming charm for comfort. You're in no hurry really, so you spend quite a few minutes looking over the roof before you feel comfortable that there's only one camera, pointed directly down at the top of the roof access hatch. That may be a problem when it comes time to get in, but a closer look wouldn't hurt. You pull out a second wardstone and apparate over to the other roof but hold off on placing it down. With a better view something amazing made itself known—a skylight. Moving over to it you can see that the glass is dirty and cracked, badly patched with duct tape and plastic, but you can still see through to the room beneath.

Deciding to skip the ward on this roof you reach out once again to feel minds and find them far below you, probably on the first or second floors. A flex of magic and you find yourself in the bedroom under the skylight and immediately start breathing through your mouth as the rank smell of sweat and unwashed everything smacks you upside the head. You dearly wish you knew the bubble-head charm as you look around this absolute trash pile of a room. Clothes are strewn everywhere in large drifts along with random pills, almost-empty baggies of weed, and miscellaneous calibers of ammo. What's worse is that everything looks greasy. Very carefully making your way to the door you silence it before cracking it open and letting out a silent sigh of relief when the rest of the building just smells dirty rather than actively foul.

The rest of the rooms on this floor have small cots or mattresses laying on the ground and seem seldom-used by the stale air and dust around. Silencing your steps you go to the third floor and find one room that looks to be the 'armory', with an AK-47 on a table along with boxes of ammunition stacked haphazardly on some cheap shelving right next to unloaded magazines. Of the two other used rooms, one seems to be in the process of having something built in it—given the glassware and gas tank you'd guess meth? In any case it doesn't seem complete, with boxes and things strewn about and no lights on. The other has no space for you to enter as it's covered in grow lamps and weed plants, with heavy foil taped on the walls.

By the time you make it down to the second floor you feel able to use the sensory charm again without throwing up. Sitting on the steps between floors two and three you can hear the conversation pretty clearly.

"-ell that cocksucker Wayne that if he wants us to start pushing that shit it needs to be cleaner." Whoever's shouting has a sick burr to his voice like he's been punched in the throat one too many times. "That last batch was fuckin' China White and fucked a coupla guys up bad enough that they started lookin' elsewhere. Don't give me shit junk and then bitch when no one wants to buy it."

"I'll tell 'em Randy. Gonna be later than usual, it was Jamal's crew's truck that got blown up so we're short until Squealer makes another one."

The first raspy voice starts up again. "Shit, how long's that gonna be? Those fuckers need to keep her ass on a leash, least Skidmark kept her making shit or sucking dick instead of fuckin' Tinkering whatever bullshit idea she pulled out her cunt." There's the noise of a door opening and a couple of people walk out. A wet hawk and spit makes you grimace. "Try to get my shit here before dawn, need to divide it up by the time my guys get here."

The door slams and a number of locks click. "Fuckin' assholes can't do anything right. Make the stupid fuckin' trucks invisible, sure, then they're gonna use 'em to pull that stupid shit at the college. Shit, one goddamn invisible van would be plenty to move shit around but do they listen to me? Nah. Fuckin' retarted-ass twat."

A voice you hadn't heard before gives a hum. "Hell yeah, brother. You right."

"Yeah, I'm always fucking right when it comes to pushin' weight." There's a hiss of a can being opened and some gulping noises. "Gonna finish counting Tito's shit then we'll get some fucking food."

"Alright man."

You slip back up to the third floor and wait as someone stomps up the steps and unlocks a room on the second floor. Curiously—and luckily for you—you don't hear a door close, so you make sure you're still silenced and creep down. Once on the second floor you can hear the faint sound of someone watching something on a phone downstairs, and one person counting money in the room up ahead which matches with the two minds you sense in the house.

In the end all you have to do is crack the door open slightly and stun the counter, then bind him with (real) zipties and conjured ropes. The guy downstairs is equally simple, only needing slightly better aim to knock him out.

Placing muggle-repelling spells and colloportus on both front and back doors, you levitate both Merchants into a room on the second floor and stick them magically to chairs, and the chairs to the floor.

Doing a sweep of the stash house you gather all the obvious guns together and make a note of the money and drugs.

Weapon-wise there are a bunch of knives, batons, and bats, but the main weapons are the guns. After summoning and checking your prisoners for weapons you lay everything out on a card table. The AK-47 is the only long gun in the place, but there are three Glocks, one with an absurdly long magazine hanging out the bottom. One bigass revolver that's like a foot long that claims to be a Smith and Wesson Model 29, and there's also a tiny pocket pistol with 'Ruger' on the side. There are extra magazines for everything, some loaded, some not, and boxes and loose bullets everywhere in the armory.

The counting room has a bunch of loose bills that were in the middle of being counted, so you have no idea how much is there. More than a grand, less than ten-thousand maybe? There's also a safe bolted to the ground that's electronic that doesn't respond to your alohamora.

The drug room has more drugs than you've even seen in one place, and many of them aren't labelled. Lots of weed, a couple of bags of mushrooms, what might be LSD, a couple of different sacks of pill, and lots and lots of powder. All of that is separated into sections, but unfortunately no one decided to pull out the labelmaker and make this easy on you, so all you know is that some of the powder is white and some is off-white.

Of the two people in the building, the first-floor guy looks to be a meathead providing muscle. He's fucking ripped and covered in tattoos with an honest-to-god mullet. Counting-room dude is wearing a stained wifebeater and has a bit of meth-mouth going on. He looks to be where the grease came from, glistening even from a distance and you're kind of unwilling to touch him even with gloves on.

In the end this looks like it just happens to be a drug distribution center, not a secret Tinker lab. You have the run of the place until someone shows up and gets suspicious. What are you going to do?

You're gonna take the knives and batons if only for enchantment practice.

[X][Guns] Take everything

[X][Prisoners] Keep the guy knocked out, open an eyelid and use active Legilimency on him. (Easier, but less practice than you would get with an awake subject.)

You check both of your prisoners to make sure they aren't going to wake up before pulling your trunk and loading the money and guns into the empty fifth compartment. Shrinking it and securing it back in your pocket you levitate Greasy over to the wall and stick his head to it. Finding another chair doesn't take long and you peel an eyelid open and stick that open too. You light the tip of your wand and wave it back and forth and get no reaction other than feeling vaguely like an ophthalmologist for a moment. Assured that he's completely out you firm up your Occlumency, point your wand and cast.

"Legilimens!"

v̷H̵i̷s̶ ̶n̸a̶m̶e̵ ̷i̶s̵ ̸R̵a̶n̷d̷y̴ ̶b̵u̸g̷s̷ ̶u̷n̶d̸e̷r̵ ̴m̴y̷ ̶s̸k̶i̵n̸J̶o̷h̶a̸n̸s̶e̸n̵ ̷a̵n̸d̴ ̶h̴e̸'̴s̷ ̸a̸ ̵m̴i̶d̵-̴l̷e̴v̸e̵l̵ ̶d̷r̴u̵g̷ ̷d̴e̵a̵l̵e̸r̶ ̸f̷o̷r̶ ̸t̷h̵e̴ ̷M̷e̷r̷c̸h̶a̴n̶t̸s̸.̸ ̷H̷a̵s̶ ̵b̵e̷e̶n̷ ̸f̵o̶r̴ ̷y̷e̸a̶r̵s̵.̸ ̸H̷e̴'̷s̷ ̵a̴ ̸h̸o̵r̷r̸i̵b̴l̵e̵ ̴e̷x̸c̷u̶s̷e̸ ̵o̸f̸ ̶a̵ ̶h̴u̸m̸a̶n̵ ̸.γɘnom nɒʜɈ ɿɘʜɈɒɿ noiɈɒmɿoʇni ɿoʇ mɘʜɈ ϱnizɘɘυpƨ bnɒ ̷͔̈́͘a̴̼̺͑̉̚n̴̝̄̓̓̈́d̵̨̙̫̺̖̑̈́͆́̂̽͗ ̶͚͇͉̙̝̣͔̑͜i̵̢̞͎̣͙̙̫̩͒͂̈́̕t̷͕̩̘̝͉̂́̒͐̈́͘'̵̪̳͈̺̫̇̌̏͊̕͠s̴̨͇͓̩̪͉̆̅̈͋ ̶̖̭̭͕̀͗̉̓̓͛a̷̺̥͌̎̈́̑̈́̽̈́̑͜l̴̢͙͍̬̀̌̑̔̉̌l̸̜̲̝̎ ̷̼̝̬̈́̃̾̓i̶̢͔̦̻͔͉̾̆̑̄̅͝n̶͙̮͙̝͍̣͆̽́̈ ̸͓͋̉̑h̸̢͎͍̰̮̹͔͆͌͑̇͠͠͠į̵͚̰̟̪͔̘̅̋ș̴̦͚͈̏̑ ̶̛̼̀̈́͆́́̿̕h̴̢̠̰̖͎̺̩͎̏̓̓͌e̸̮͗ā̷̡͇͉̬̑̆̉̊d̴̛͔͒̂̕͘.̷̟̒͗͛͒̽̀̿̕ ̸͉̦͙̻̙̳̞̑̓̌̽̋̅H̷̱̱͙͕̀̓̕e̴̡͈̜̯͖̭̿͛̎̽̌ͅ ̸͇̦̜͈͈̾̐́͊̽̕p̴̱̺͇͓̮͚̦̆͂͋͗̔a̶͚̲͖̯̼̾͛ɿooq bnɒ ƨƨɘlɘmoʜ ɘʜɈ ϱniɈɔibbɒ ƨɈυlƨ ϱniʞɔυʇ γd Ɉi ɿɘvo ƨɘlυɿ bnɒ ƨʞɔob ɘʜɈ ʇo ʞɿɒq bnɒ bɿɒγ niɒɿɈ ɘʜɈ ƨloɿɈnoɔ ƨɈɿυʜ γbod niɒq ɘH .bɒɘʜ ƨiʜ ni llɒ ƨ'Ɉi bnɒ miʜ oɈ ϱniʜɈγnᛞᛇᛞᚾ'ᛏ•ᛚᛇᚲᛖk̵͖̟̦̿̿̽̏̿͘i̴̙͔̺͖͙̍͒̇̂̑͋n̵̖̱̤̪̠̅̋̇̇̇̈͝͝g̴̨̢͚̠̣̗͐̈́̌̂͝ ̸̡̨̥̱̥̳̈́s̴̬̪̽̚ͅl̵̬̪͓͂͛̍͒ǔ̶̢̩̹͎͇̱͇̜̄̎̉͛̎͘͝t̴̝͇͚̰̻̩̽͋̇s̶̹̿͆̈́̄̍̅̌ ̵̧̬͕̠͙͖̙̽a̴̠̥̠̜͎̮̲̜̿̅d̴̟̥̝̺̳̼̱̊͘d̷̥͌ĩ̶̧͒͂̍͊̅c̴̘̝̱̖͖͉͑̂͐̓͑̌̾̎ẗ̴̗̩͎́̈́͘ͅį̸̠̖̀̔̿̕n̴̟̺̪̲̣̹̆̃̽̈́̅̎̏͘ĝ̴̢̦̱̪̰̤̀́̑̃̓̇ͅ ̴͎̞̮͎̼̌t̴͙̠͓̎̒̇͑̍̿̂ḩ̶̛̥̦̲̠̃̿͋́̽̍̎͜ͅȩ̷̤̭̙̯̋̈́ ̴̣̩̆͠ḧ̶̡̠̺̺̯̬͈̻̇̾ó̸̡̼̙̺̹͍́͂̀̇̊̍̕ͅm̴̡̗̜͎̲͛̍͝ë̷̹͖́l̴̤͓̻̠͖̔̍͒͝ḙ̸̡̢̝̱͉̯̺̅͂ș̵͇̻̈͒́̍͒ͅŝ̷̡̞͈̠̎̿̆̄͠ ̸͕̻̟̩͙̊̋̂͑͆̈́a̶̹̰̓̎͛͑̿͘͠n̸̦̟͈͆̕͝d̴͈̯̖̳̈́ ̸̠̭̫̘͎̀̓̚͜p̵͚̝̀̆̕ǫ̷͕͇͔͕̂̅̌̈́̈́̚͜͜ỏ̵͉̆̓ͅr̴̮̲̩͔̫̯̲͔̐̍̒ ̸͙̲̐̑̍͝ȃ̶̡̞̗̱͖͊̍͠n̸̩̟̖͚̹̥͕̅̓͋̀͆̍͆̚d̶͍̮̯͑̔̑ ̷̡̭̭̦̣͕̤͝s̷̳͍̟͓̫̐̍́̕̕q̵̭̥̝̦͙̺̟́͘͜ù̴̢͔͚͉̣̑̅͘̚͠ͅe̷̢͔̣̜̗͌̿̌̕͝ė̷̼̔͛͗̾̒z̵̹̳̈i̵̧̛̘̯͉̪̻͎̇̆́̄̋͋ͅǹ̷̪̪̱̝̺̜̪g̵̡̣̩̺̺̲̍̿̋ ̷̮͈͕̊̆͐̐t̵̗̺͔̪͔̍́̑̏̓̒͠h̸͍͊e̶̝̘̍m̵̢̙̣̰̳͙̆̈́̌̒͒͘͝ ̶̣͈́̄̇́̋̚̚f̵̻̩̼̫̅̂́̽o̷̹̬͛͊͑̓͑͝ř̷͔͔̯͑͋̄̍̔̄ ̸̣̑̈̐̈́̾͠ͅį̵̣͙̜̮̈́̓̓̾̽̿̚͘n̵̦̣̮̈́̐̏̄̕f̴̨̖͖̲͇͙̬̬̈́̇̏ᛞᚱᚢᚷȏ̷̮̪̭͑ͅr̴̤̳͍̈́̍̔m̶͍̖̖̰̊̐́̈́̋̾̂̚a̵͍̣̼̜͑̂͑́̚t̶̩̘̲̹̲̠͎͆̿̀͒́͐̂͝i̶̺͕͊̽͐̍̃̈́͒ǫ̸̧̨͔̼̫͍̫͆̈́̚n̸̨̡̖̘̭̼̥̬͐̋̇̿̌̀͌̕ ̵̳̱̙̝̭̞͗͋͌͋͘͠r̷͓̹̜̠̪̄̾̀͗̾̑ä̵̼͚͖́̇̍̾̈́͊̀ţ̶̛̣̫̹̅̌̍̍̕͝ͅȟ̷̢̲̌͆͌e̴̳͎̤̝̞̦̚r̵͔͎͒͐͂̈́̓̍̓͝ ̵̡͓̯̭̹͎́̑͛̍̍͌̊t̷̢̲̱͕͙͓͔͒̏͌ḫ̸̢̤͍̟̦̾ȃ̵̢̠̜̥͎̲̔̎̀̋̒͝n̶͚̈́͆ ̸̢̹́̉̾͋̄̈́͜͜͝m̶̦͖̪̳̮̰̪̿̅̎̀͆ŏ̶̭n̵͖̖̪̲̦̐̃́̈̕ȇ̸͎̭͇̭͕̎̏̉̌̐̌͝y̴̗̎.̴̣̞͕̥̪̀̉̓͂ ̶̺̆͛̏̉̿̾H̵͚̗͖̰̋e̵̡̖̞̲͋̓̚'̷̨̛̬̩͉̺̐́͑̾̄̐͝ͅͅs̸̡̡̮̗͎̼̻̆̈́͐ ̶̢̨̛̘̟̼͊c̷̝͋͆ò̵̢͇̟͕̱̱͚͙͑͑̕n̶̜͕̭̖̪̱̣̈́̅͆͘s̸̳̳͚̜͇̮̖̋̕͝t̸̢̿̆̔͊͛̎͝ȃ̵̠͔̰̲͓́̌̆̆̚͠ň̸̺͇t̸̡̪̲̙̦̉̈́ͅl̴̫̗̤̖̼̫̬̝͆͆̑͘y̶̦͒ ̴̙͓̠̠̦̅͒̎̾̇ö̵̼̦̖́̆̇n̶̼͙̭͕͕̈́́̈́͐ ̸̨̢̟̟̦̼̻̪͆̋̎̕d̵̼̏̂ȓ̸̻̘̦̌̊̅̾̈͘u̸̳͔̓̐͂̉g̴̫̠̦̤̙̍s̴̛̭̰͈̒̌̓̉̈́̌̽—̷̧̠̲͓̻̬̇̔͆̒̈́̾̚͝c̴̩͚̤̪̎̀ͅớ̴̮̤c̵͖̬̤͍̍̇̒͆̓̓ȁ̸͕̗̆͐͝ĩ̷̢͖͠n̵̨̬̾̐̒̏̔͆̎͘ę̷̛̦̟̳̫̭͈͐̋̈̔͑͗,̴̙͚̎̿̐͘ ̶̨̩͕̘̞̲̏̌͒̑̉̏͛ͅw̷͚͖̦̹͇̥̽̇͆̔̔͑̌ė̸̺̟͌̋͝e̸̹̖̞̺̜̰̓͗͆͊̃̽́d̵̩̎͊̉͒̂,̷̥̟̞͓̎͗͐̅̆͊̒͑ ̶̗̜̳̝̭̺̃h̷̢͖̦̣̏̍͗e̵̡̘͚͒͂̐̏̐̚r̵̨̡͈͚̉͆̾͋͗͠o̵̧̬̤̽̌̎̊͝i̷̡̬̝̪͍̭̭̱̐́̄̈́̇̃͝n̵̤͓̳̄́̔̆̄̓̽͝,̵͕̣͋̓̈̂̀̆̉ͅ ̸̢̢̩̲̤̝͖̯̆̆̌̓͂h̵̲͕̯̱̓͌̎͋͒̉͋͜͝ę̶̞̹̝̭̜̝̉̓̎͐͘͝'̵̮̭̯̀̾̽̈̊̚͠͝s̴͚̭̀̅̄̍̍͠ͅ ̵̜̰͇̮̮̫͊̆͂͝ͅͅt̵͖͙̊̋̅̄͛̓̈́̚r̴̫̞̼̘͂̀̾̽͗́͠į̴͓̰̼̮̫̓̏̈́̒͛̚e̸̹̲̲̭͂̂̇̓̈́d̷̦̅̀ ̴̝̦̹̙̟̝̈́͌̈̾̐̄̊o̶̡͍̥̪̳̝͆́̆̋͜r̴̞̣̦̤̘̉̈́͛͐͝ ̵͈͕͈̆̐͗̕͝ȗ̴̦͓̘̟̫͆͐̓̕ś̶̪̮̗͖̙̃͑ę̵̮̗̮̟̠͛͋̿̿̅̆͝ś̷͎͈͓̹̤̓ ̷̨̛̦̳͉͈̲̀͆̂t̷̥̞̙͔͎̖̉̾͂͑̍̈͛͠h̴̰͑̏̏͋̓͘e̴̡̪͖̤̥̠͖̰͋̅̄̔͒̍͠ḿ̵̢͕͚̪͈͚͍͚͗̚ ̶̣͎̬͔̥̔͂͜ȁ̴̫͚͜l̵̨̜̰̖̟̮͓̒̚ḷ̸̼̠́̽͒̌̔͛̽͘.̵̲͉̘͇̍̔̚

You jam your eyes closed and slam every mind-arts-related ability you have because fuck that was too much. You hit yourself with a painkiller and look to make sure that didn't explode the dude's head or anything. Honestly you really don't want to try again, but you do. This time you merely look at the crazy mesh of thought, memory, and feelings that constantly churn together for a bit before trying to impose order on it so that you can use it. With the guy's forced nap you have the run of his mind and slowly you manage to come up with a system that works.

Pulling out once more you check the time—twenty minutes have passed, but nothing seems to have interrupted and you sense no other life hanging around. This time you push into Randy's mind with purpose and skim it for useful information.

Randy Johansen is a mid-tier drug distributor for the Merchants, and has been for almost a decade. He's a horrible asshole of a person, perfectly willing to attack people he thinks have wronged him (or he just doesn't like the look of) through addicting their loved ones to the drugs he controls.

In addition to being a worthless sack of shit though, Randy knows a fair amount about how the Archer's Bridge Merchants work. He knows a number of figures above him in the loose distribution network that the Merchants use. You pull the names from his mind for later while seeing what changes have been made to the Merchants.

After extracting everything you can about the gang from his head you try—out of curiosity if nothing else—to pull knowledge out of his head. The only useful skills he seems to have that stick out (besides the drug-related ones) are basic gun handling skills and playing guitar. You copy them over to your mind and place them with the Merchant information to be unpacked later.

You also found the code to the safe, so popping that open shows a knife and gun, as well as bundled cash that looked like it was both blood and drug stained. You take your favorite divination spell framework and search for 'dried blood', cast the four-point spell and watch as your wand goes crazy over the safe's contents. You decide not to touch that with a proverbial ten fool pole

Instead you summon phones and get five from the two of them. Two were from meathead, who gets a cursory mental check and seems to be exactly what he looks like. He's every bit the druggie that most Merchants are, but his poison involves steroids and weed. You flip through Randy's contact list and recognize names from the info you've pulled out of his head, so keeping the phone wouldn't accomplish much other than making you possibly trackable. Instead you get ready to dial 911 on one phone, the PRT hotline on a second, and download a text-to-speech app and put in a little speech. Dialing both numbers and starting the voice as soon as they connect you head downstairs and dispel everything on the doors, then work your way back up. In the counting room the PRT and 911 dispatchers are yelling at each other as if they were the actual callers. You do hear claims that cops are on their way so you merely dispel the conjured ropes and leave the guys ziptied to the chairs.

Popping to the first roof you install yourself in your warded blind and fire off an alohamora at the front door to push it open. You don't expect a great reaction time from either group but you're pleasantly surprised when less than five minutes later a red blur smears down the street before resolving into Velocity. With a quick check of the sky to make sure no one's airborne to see you you pull the final stone and apparate away.

Sunday morning you get up and spend some time practicing your Occlumency before knocking out your homework for the upcoming week. A little before noon you get a text from Susan asking if you'd like to join the girls in heading off campus to get burgers—they promise no Fugly Bob's.

Meeting them at their dorm you're greeted with a round of hugs and you all make your way to some new burger joint that's opened up on the other end of the Boardwalk. The place seems like a Five Guys knockoff but the food's both greasy and good, so no complaints.

The girls have obviously decided you're interesting and are trying to come up with a good way to find out why you live off campus. They're not the best interrogators in the world, though, and you end up learning that Crystal lives on campus—albeit in a private room—before Savannah finally gets around to asking you directly.

Wiping your mouth on a napkin you slump your shoulders a bit and do the same thousand-yard stare that you affected back when Derek asked last week. "It was my parents'."

Sierra is the first to figure out what that means, choking back a soft 'Oh!' of surprise and reaching out to pat your hand awkwardly. Karen seems to get it next and whispers to the rest of the girls who were looking a bit confused.

You shake yourself as if coming out of it and simply say, "Anyhow, I ended up missing last year, I'll be turning twenty this year. So, y'know, I'm an old man compared to you whippersnappers."

A roll of nervous laughs goes around until you ask Soon-Yi how her arm is.

"It still hurts obviously, but no fever," she glares at Karen who smirks back, "because someone makes me check it every ten seconds. I got in touch with a girl I went to that graduated from Arcadia before me, she's a nurse now. I told her a story about broken glass and falling, made it sound like someone was drinking and did something stupid and I fell and stabbed myself. I said it happened a while back, she seems okay with getting some supplies and treating me."

"Good, so you'll do that this weekend?"

Soon smiles as she shakes her head. "Nah, and Haeun'd be working this weekend anyhow. My bio class was back in that area that the Merchants hit, there's still police tape and people crawling all over the place. They've cancelled science classes this week until they find enough space to put everyone. I'm going over tomorrow on her day off."

After finishing up you escort the girls back to the dorm even though they keep telling you you don't have to. The nearest bus stop to campus from the Boardwalk is still a pretty decent hike and during it the girls seem to trade off on walking next to you and rubbing shoulders.

Back in their rooms and another set of head massages and cheering charms later you head out and pop back to your lair. The remainder of the afternoon is spent going over your books and using reinforcing spells to make everything as impenetrable as possible. By the time you head home in the evening, you're sure that short of Leviathan actually body-checking the building nothing's breaking the windows and walls.

AN:

You've done a cape-like thing by invading the stash house. Sunday night in your sleep you have vivid dreams leaving you with memories of a new bit of magic. What is it?

[X][Bonus] Medical knowledge equivalent to a fully-trained medi-wizard.