aaaand again
s m o k e&m i r r o r s
v2.
Oh please, don't get me started on magic. Magic's the most overrated thing in this entire bloody world. Aren't that many people who'd disagree with me on that, by my reckoning, but there's still all this mystery and allure attached to the whole thing, and it's all bullshit. Every word of it. Don't whisper about it in empty corridors or in quiet corners of the pub, it makes you look like a first class moron, alright? Not worth the time, the trouble or the effort when all you get out of it are a couple of fancy tricks that might save your life whilst taking a swing at it with a huge metaphorical cricket bat at the exact same time. I'm a total hypocrite for telling you all this, 'cause like hell I'm going to give it up, but it's not like I'm telling you it's all great and fantastic, you know? More than I can say for some bastards. It's a drug, and it's bad. Magic's for that cocky little wanker who thinks he's hard 'cause he'll pretend get himself some books and some powders and tell everything he could be to go fuck itself with a cactus. If you're wondering, I did just describe myself to a T, good on you for not asking. Getting obscured by the smoke isn't an achievement. I'm a proper Grade A addict, me, and if I could go back and do it all again, I'd do it all differently, but I can't, so fuck that. My rivers have been cried and all that, let's move on.
No one knows where the hell magic came from. Every historian will give you ten million different theories and show you ten million more boring as you can believe books about it to try and sell his idea to you, but none of 'em are right, I'll bet. Who cares? It's not the point. No one needs to know when it popped up so long as they know when it fucked up. Or started to, anyway, because at first it wasn't half bad. 1965, time for change and progress and all that flowery stuff, so the government thinks, fuck it, let's try and make use of that crazy mumbo-jumbo. They started off good, there were restrictions and stuff in place. You can only have so many people practicing, only so many spells and incantations they can cast. It was a huge help to security services and stuff, you know? The police loved it. Made their jobs easier and helped people, really helped people. It wasn't some shitty scheme that pretended to help, there was a lot of good done by magic. The problem was that people started relaxing. Clearly the whole magic thing wasn't too bad, right? Yeah, it was fantastic, a few addicts appeared here and there, but they were rehabilitated, it was fine.
Smart people could see the collapse coming before the restrictions and limitations were even properly lifted. As soon as you start trusting something that's dangerous, it's going to grin a toothy little grin and fuck you over in a heartbeat. That's what magic did to us. Around 1979 magic becomes a bit more legal and the downhill tumble starts, and then it snowballs. Addiction soars, a huge black market starts circulating, and there you have it. The inevitable disaster. Magic wasn't made to be harnessed or tamed, it was made to be left alone.
It's not unique. It's not something that's inherited, it can be learned, and it's not rocket science either. Probably the worst thing about magic is how easy it can be. The simplest little spells can involve as little as muttering a couple of words and rubbing powdered quartz between your fingers, and there's the first step to a new skill and a new way of ruining your life. TO BE CONTINUED SHUT UP.
+c a s t
You lot can call me Knox. Don't need any first names or anything like that, you'll probably forget all about me by next week, and that's a-okay with me, yeah? Like I said, I'm a bit of a massive fuck up, but it wasn't always doom and gloom for me. Had a good job, had an amazing girlfriend, the best little sister in the world, I couldn't complain, not for a second. Then someone told me I'd be good with magic. Everyone said it was a bad plan considering the state of affairs, but that's damn flattering, isn't it? Half the imbeciles who were paid and employed to use magic were the most cack-handed fools I'd ever seen in my life, and I was a natural. No point in dancing around it, I was fucking good. Way too good. It was so tempting, right, to just make shit up, do my own thing, make standard procedure so much smoother and so efficient. Look at me, some scrappy London brat now a proper magic user. It was easy hiding the addiction up until the ban. After that, I had to disappear, you understand? Couldn't hang around when they were forcing people into that god-awful rehabilitation scheme. I didn't need to be even more fucked up than I already was.
Now this here's my little sister, Hilary. She's the kind of person everyone should aspire to be like, you hear? I'm not saying this 'cause I'm her brother - well, not entirely at least - but because she's genuinely ace. We lost our mum and dad when we were young, yeah, I was sixteen and she was eleven, but we looked out for each other. Strongest little kid you ever saw, I swear to you. She was only little, but she dealt with it. She got on with everything, she didn't let it break her down. Clever little kid, I always knew she'd outshine me in every way imaginable, but hey, I'm not bitter. I'm the proudest, yeah? I love that girl, and that's why I haven't seen her for about three years now. She doesn't need to be mixed up with the likes of me, which'd be fine and dandy if she didn't keep looking for me. Smart but stubborn as fuck. Completely against magic on all levels, thank god, but determined to get me home. I've been officially dead for almost a year and a half now, but she refuses to believe it. Which means she knows me too well. Got a bit of a mouth though, like me, and that's probably why she's going to land herself in trouble soon, which'll probably be a ruse to get me out of hiding 'cause she knows there's no way I'd let her get hurt. Stupid thing is it'll definitely work.
Oh dear god, this old coot. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you an esteemed former acquaintance of mine, North Blanchard. This grumpy bugger taught and developed all these fancy tricks of mine back in the magic heyday and all that. He's impatient as hell, and probably not the happiest guy in the world - last I heard, he'd somehow managed to stick it out through rehabilitation, though I'll bet you anything he fucking loathed it. Got a bit of a gammy leg, which used to be alright when he could sort it out with magic, but now the ban's in place... he's a stickler for the rules, this bloke, though I reckon he'd still use a bit of magic when he can. He was good with his magic, he was, and to be honest I can't believe he's sticking with the ban. Once when Hilary still tried sending me letters, she said she visited Blanchy every so often. Apparently he thinks I'm long gone, which is fine by me, but I don't think Hilary's pleased by the lack of faith. Also, never lets go of his bloody pipe, and that thing stank something fierce, Jesus.
Moving on, we have a someone who's definitely not on my To Meet list (to be fair it's an entirely empty list, though). Detective Inspector Christopher Saxon, anti-magic squad. They talk about this guy sometimes, in the gossip-y little circles of the grimy, reckless magic underworld - his sort of words, I'm assuming - but most of it is sensationalist bullshit on how he crushed some guy's arm with his bare hands. I've read files on this guy. Used to work in serious organised crime, divorced from a magic addict wife, tough as nails and even worse than my sister when it comes to condemning magic. Didn't even let them use magic to help him when he was temporarily paralysed from waist down, insisted on slogging through it through 100% traditional physio. I'm a cocky shit, I know that, but hell I don't want to run into this guy on my own, there'd be nothing left of me afterwards. He's one of them blokes with a strong sense of right and wrong, you know? Has a son floating around out there too, given up right after he was born. That's hearsay on the streets, but I know it's true.
Speaking of trouble, this guy is the definition. If ever a bastard has roamed the earth needed a good fucking punch to the face, it's him. Mr. Smooth, Slinky Fanatic himself, known as "Benedict" and nothing else. Think of the most blindly devoted twat in the world, and you'll get him. Hey, I'm no saint, we've established this repeatedly, but he's a on another level completely. I don't promote what I do, yeah? I know it's wrong and I know it's my own stupid fault, but this guy is so far gone that he doesn't believe in anything but the supremacy of magic. My theory is he found the perfect permanent fix, which of course fucked him up entirely, and now he goes around looking for idiots like me who're knee deep in addiction only to encourage it. What kind of fucking lunatic does that? He's got himself a bunch of followers now, it's always floating around in the news now that the government's starting the magic crackdown. Messes around with people's heads and gives them this really charming ultimatum: join him, or get yourself killed. You'd be surprised how many people don't believe him and end up found in a gutter sometime in the following week. This guy is beyond trouble, way beyond it.
v2.
Oh please, don't get me started on magic. Magic's the most overrated thing in this entire bloody world. Aren't that many people who'd disagree with me on that, by my reckoning, but there's still all this mystery and allure attached to the whole thing, and it's all bullshit. Every word of it. Don't whisper about it in empty corridors or in quiet corners of the pub, it makes you look like a first class moron, alright? Not worth the time, the trouble or the effort when all you get out of it are a couple of fancy tricks that might save your life whilst taking a swing at it with a huge metaphorical cricket bat at the exact same time. I'm a total hypocrite for telling you all this, 'cause like hell I'm going to give it up, but it's not like I'm telling you it's all great and fantastic, you know? More than I can say for some bastards. It's a drug, and it's bad. Magic's for that cocky little wanker who thinks he's hard 'cause he'll pretend get himself some books and some powders and tell everything he could be to go fuck itself with a cactus. If you're wondering, I did just describe myself to a T, good on you for not asking. Getting obscured by the smoke isn't an achievement. I'm a proper Grade A addict, me, and if I could go back and do it all again, I'd do it all differently, but I can't, so fuck that. My rivers have been cried and all that, let's move on.
No one knows where the hell magic came from. Every historian will give you ten million different theories and show you ten million more boring as you can believe books about it to try and sell his idea to you, but none of 'em are right, I'll bet. Who cares? It's not the point. No one needs to know when it popped up so long as they know when it fucked up. Or started to, anyway, because at first it wasn't half bad. 1965, time for change and progress and all that flowery stuff, so the government thinks, fuck it, let's try and make use of that crazy mumbo-jumbo. They started off good, there were restrictions and stuff in place. You can only have so many people practicing, only so many spells and incantations they can cast. It was a huge help to security services and stuff, you know? The police loved it. Made their jobs easier and helped people, really helped people. It wasn't some shitty scheme that pretended to help, there was a lot of good done by magic. The problem was that people started relaxing. Clearly the whole magic thing wasn't too bad, right? Yeah, it was fantastic, a few addicts appeared here and there, but they were rehabilitated, it was fine.
Smart people could see the collapse coming before the restrictions and limitations were even properly lifted. As soon as you start trusting something that's dangerous, it's going to grin a toothy little grin and fuck you over in a heartbeat. That's what magic did to us. Around 1979 magic becomes a bit more legal and the downhill tumble starts, and then it snowballs. Addiction soars, a huge black market starts circulating, and there you have it. The inevitable disaster. Magic wasn't made to be harnessed or tamed, it was made to be left alone.
It's not unique. It's not something that's inherited, it can be learned, and it's not rocket science either. Probably the worst thing about magic is how easy it can be. The simplest little spells can involve as little as muttering a couple of words and rubbing powdered quartz between your fingers, and there's the first step to a new skill and a new way of ruining your life. TO BE CONTINUED SHUT UP.
+c a s t
You lot can call me Knox. Don't need any first names or anything like that, you'll probably forget all about me by next week, and that's a-okay with me, yeah? Like I said, I'm a bit of a massive fuck up, but it wasn't always doom and gloom for me. Had a good job, had an amazing girlfriend, the best little sister in the world, I couldn't complain, not for a second. Then someone told me I'd be good with magic. Everyone said it was a bad plan considering the state of affairs, but that's damn flattering, isn't it? Half the imbeciles who were paid and employed to use magic were the most cack-handed fools I'd ever seen in my life, and I was a natural. No point in dancing around it, I was fucking good. Way too good. It was so tempting, right, to just make shit up, do my own thing, make standard procedure so much smoother and so efficient. Look at me, some scrappy London brat now a proper magic user. It was easy hiding the addiction up until the ban. After that, I had to disappear, you understand? Couldn't hang around when they were forcing people into that god-awful rehabilitation scheme. I didn't need to be even more fucked up than I already was.
Now this here's my little sister, Hilary. She's the kind of person everyone should aspire to be like, you hear? I'm not saying this 'cause I'm her brother - well, not entirely at least - but because she's genuinely ace. We lost our mum and dad when we were young, yeah, I was sixteen and she was eleven, but we looked out for each other. Strongest little kid you ever saw, I swear to you. She was only little, but she dealt with it. She got on with everything, she didn't let it break her down. Clever little kid, I always knew she'd outshine me in every way imaginable, but hey, I'm not bitter. I'm the proudest, yeah? I love that girl, and that's why I haven't seen her for about three years now. She doesn't need to be mixed up with the likes of me, which'd be fine and dandy if she didn't keep looking for me. Smart but stubborn as fuck. Completely against magic on all levels, thank god, but determined to get me home. I've been officially dead for almost a year and a half now, but she refuses to believe it. Which means she knows me too well. Got a bit of a mouth though, like me, and that's probably why she's going to land herself in trouble soon, which'll probably be a ruse to get me out of hiding 'cause she knows there's no way I'd let her get hurt. Stupid thing is it'll definitely work.
Oh dear god, this old coot. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you an esteemed former acquaintance of mine, North Blanchard. This grumpy bugger taught and developed all these fancy tricks of mine back in the magic heyday and all that. He's impatient as hell, and probably not the happiest guy in the world - last I heard, he'd somehow managed to stick it out through rehabilitation, though I'll bet you anything he fucking loathed it. Got a bit of a gammy leg, which used to be alright when he could sort it out with magic, but now the ban's in place... he's a stickler for the rules, this bloke, though I reckon he'd still use a bit of magic when he can. He was good with his magic, he was, and to be honest I can't believe he's sticking with the ban. Once when Hilary still tried sending me letters, she said she visited Blanchy every so often. Apparently he thinks I'm long gone, which is fine by me, but I don't think Hilary's pleased by the lack of faith. Also, never lets go of his bloody pipe, and that thing stank something fierce, Jesus.
Moving on, we have a someone who's definitely not on my To Meet list (to be fair it's an entirely empty list, though). Detective Inspector Christopher Saxon, anti-magic squad. They talk about this guy sometimes, in the gossip-y little circles of the grimy, reckless magic underworld - his sort of words, I'm assuming - but most of it is sensationalist bullshit on how he crushed some guy's arm with his bare hands. I've read files on this guy. Used to work in serious organised crime, divorced from a magic addict wife, tough as nails and even worse than my sister when it comes to condemning magic. Didn't even let them use magic to help him when he was temporarily paralysed from waist down, insisted on slogging through it through 100% traditional physio. I'm a cocky shit, I know that, but hell I don't want to run into this guy on my own, there'd be nothing left of me afterwards. He's one of them blokes with a strong sense of right and wrong, you know? Has a son floating around out there too, given up right after he was born. That's hearsay on the streets, but I know it's true.
Speaking of trouble, this guy is the definition. If ever a bastard has roamed the earth needed a good fucking punch to the face, it's him. Mr. Smooth, Slinky Fanatic himself, known as "Benedict" and nothing else. Think of the most blindly devoted twat in the world, and you'll get him. Hey, I'm no saint, we've established this repeatedly, but he's a on another level completely. I don't promote what I do, yeah? I know it's wrong and I know it's my own stupid fault, but this guy is so far gone that he doesn't believe in anything but the supremacy of magic. My theory is he found the perfect permanent fix, which of course fucked him up entirely, and now he goes around looking for idiots like me who're knee deep in addiction only to encourage it. What kind of fucking lunatic does that? He's got himself a bunch of followers now, it's always floating around in the news now that the government's starting the magic crackdown. Messes around with people's heads and gives them this really charming ultimatum: join him, or get yourself killed. You'd be surprised how many people don't believe him and end up found in a gutter sometime in the following week. This guy is beyond trouble, way beyond it.