Chapter Text
Bob thought he died.
There were people chasing him—collectors, he thinks. They were after something he had but he doesn't know what. If he were to guess, he thinks it's coin from when he was a junky. He's sober now. Turned his life around, mostly. He's pretty sure that he still owed a lot more people than just whoever sent those men but he can barely remember anything.
He figured New Capenna was large and so busy that he could give them the slip until he reached an Omenpath. As he was chased down he thought maybe he could start over in a brand new plane. Evidently, every inch of this one’s only settlement is a reminder of his less than favorable years. He’s never walked through an Omenpath before but the thought of a different universe excited him.
Ravnica was a plane he heard from some of the patrons at the bar he worked at. A planet-wide city compared to theirs that only occupied the smallest fraction of their desolate world. Maybe a city that big had better opportunities even for people like him. Maybe. The problem with his idea then, though, was he didn’t know which of the permanent Omenpaths led to Ravnica. Any plane was a good escape as he was chased but he was miles from any of them. There are smaller not-permanent Omenpaths as well but they’re too unstable with destinations unknown, he heard.
When he spotted an Omenpath in an alley, he made a break for it. It was the fastest he’d ever ran in his life. But as he reached forward, hoping that mere contact with the tips of his fingers would pull him away from the beating he was sure to get, the portal disappeared. Shocked, he wasn’t able to stop his momentum and he crashed onto a brick wall.
The collectors were howling and laughing at him as he struggled to regain his composure. The one leading the group approached Bob with a gilded crowbar. He closed his eyes and prepared for the blow. He’s endured things like this before and he will again if he just closed his eyes to avoid seeing his blood on the concrete.
The blow never came.
When he looked around he was in a large, dimly-lit chamber with walls of stone. He counted ten arched passageways to dark corridors—each with a strange symbol on top. Was whatever death god in New Capenna making him choose his afterlife? He doesn’t feel dead but the one with the dragon symbol seemed nice. He likes dragons. He doesn’t know what dragons are. He doesn’t know why he knew the word “dragon.”
Which brings him to now. The only reason he's sure he’s not dead is he puked. He puked from seeing someone get stabbed on the forehead by a glowing dagger. The dagger disappeared but the dead body did not. As violent as the streets of New Capenna are, Bob’s managed to avoid seeing a dead non-Phyrexianized body until now.
He stands up and steps away from his own bile. When he looks up, three people in a stand-off turn their attention on him. One tall lady had dark grey robes and glowing daggers—Bob is sure she killed the other guy. The shorter lady was in black-ish clothes and a vest he’d seen on armed security in New Capenna. The third person was a tall, handsome, bearded dude with a shield, helmet, and armor like New Capenna angels but not. Okay, his only point of reference are things he’s seen on the streets.
They all look like they can and will murder him with a thumb so he goes for his tried-and-tested method of escape. Distract and run.
“Are they actually dead?” Stating the obvious seems to work because the three very dangerous-looking individuals all raise their eyebrows at him. He makes a break for the dragon passage but a stone slab falls down before he could step through. Then all of the other passages get sealed off as well.
Thank the Archangels that he didn’t lose his toes.
He turns back to the three and they all immediately stand on guard again. “Woah, woah!” he says, raising his hands to show he’s not a threat.
Their gazes make him uncomfortable and when he’s uncomfortable he tends to run his mouth and just word-vomits. He doesn’t want word vomit to be his possible last words. His boss once told him that the key to survival in New Capenna is to build trust and form connections. And to form connections, his boss told him, a strong introduction is required.
“Hi, I’m Bob,” Bob introduces himself. Not as strong as he would’ve liked on account of his stuttering but it’s an introduction.
“Who are you?” tall dagger lady asks.
“I, I’m Bob. I told you… I’m Bob!” Like, he already said that. It’s a one syllable name, easy to remember. That’s why he goes by it.
Handsome soldier scoffs and says, “Holy Razia, stop saying ‘Bob'!”
Okay, first of all rude. Second, he wants to hear rude soldier to say his name again. Third, what’s a Razia?
The short lady pointed a gun at him. “Who sent you, Bob?” she asked.
That confuses him. Unless those collectors beat him unconscious and threw him here, she’s probably referring to their employer. But he doesn’t know who sent those collectors. Honestly, he was lost in all senses of the word. He doesn’t even know if his own thoughts are making sense.
“Nobody. Why would I be sent? You were all sent?” he asks. Distract and run. Even though there’s nowhere to run to. He just wants the attention off him.
Dagger lady puts her hands down and sighs like being trap in wherever they are is beneath her. “Okay, I’m not sure what’s happening here and you’re exhausting. My job is done—”
Short lady cuts her off, “You see my job is to keep an eye on you. You're not going anywhere.”
“You’re keeping an eye on her, huh?” handsome soldier throws at short lady. “That’s a pretty weak cover for a Dimir secret agent.”
Dimir? Did handsome soldier mean boss Jetmir? Why would the Cabaretti have secret agents? Didn’t they just throw parties and provided nightlife?
“I’m not a secret agent. She’s a secret…” short lady trails off as if something dawned on her. Bob wishes that thing dawned on him, too, because he doesn’t enjoy being clueless.
He sees the same realization on dagger lady’s face and the two women nod in mutual understanding. Short lady takes her hand off the trigger and says, “Okay, it’s clear that we were all sent down here under false pretenses.”
“Pretenses?” Bob asks?
“What you can’t repeat your name, now you repeat the last word you hear?” rude soldier barks. Bob wants nothing right now but to punch his handsome face and pull at his wonderful beard.
“Real mature, Walker,” says dagger lady.
So, is Walker handsome soldier’s name? Is it a title? Bob needs clarification because he wants to stop referring to him as “handsome soldier” no matter how fitting it is. Matter of fact, he wants to know all their names. The placeholders he has are admittedly stupid.
Short lady stashes her gun away. “I'm an off-plane contractor hired to apprehend a Dimir agent matching your description,” she reveals, waving towards dagger lady. “My employer said you found a way to mess with a thing called the Guildpact,” she continues.
Bob really thinks they’re pronouncing Jetmir wrong. And what’s the Guildpact?
“Another flimsy cover. What can ghost lady here possibly do to the Firemind?” asks Walker with so much derision that Bob is almost turned off.
“Well, fuck you, too,” dagger lady tells Walker. “I'm here to kill her to clear a debt to the Orzhov,” dagger lady pointed to the dead person on the floor. “She’s dead. Debt is paid. So…”
Again, what are these names they're just throwing around?
“Uhm, no,” Walker says, clutching tightly on dagger lady’s arm. She merely phases through the handsome man’s hand and Bob thinks that’s freaky.
“As the champion of the Boros, I was clearly sent here to apprehend all of you,” Walker says smugly.
The ladies laugh at Walker but Bob asks “Including me?” He doesn’t want everyone’s attention on him but does want Walker’s.
“Stupid question, Bob,” Walker says without even looking at him. Which is disappointing but he heard his name again. A win’s a win.
“No, all of this is stupid. I’m leaving,” dagger lady says. She starts to flicker into multiple translucent images of herself. Real freaky. But as soon as she started, she snaps back into one being.
“What the fuck?” dagger lady says.
Clearly Bob is missing something. Dagger lady seemed to have expected a different outcome but he doesn’t really know what it is.
“Wait, let me try,” says short lady. The short blonde closes her eyes and she’s enveloped by a white and red light before it abruptly disappears leaving her dumbfounded. “Shit!”
These crazy killers are all freaky. But it’s cool and Bob thinks he wants to do something like that as well.
“Wait,” Walker interrupts Bob’s musings. “You’re a planeswalker, too?” the handsome soldier asks short lady.
“What’s a planeswalker?” Bob asks out loud. He was just thinking it because these people having being throwing around names and things that he has no clue about this past few minutes. Apparently that was another stupid question since everyone’s attentions are on him again.
“How do you not know what a planeswalker is? You planeswalked right in the middle of us fighting,” Walker berates him.
“What?”
Short lady approaches him cautiously. He still folds in on himself, though. He doesn't trust that this woman an entire head shorter than him won't kick him in the nuts or something.
“Bob, do you know where you are?” short lady asks.
“I don't know? Someone’s dungeon?” Why is she even asking that? It’s not like he’s been to many of the other levels of the city.
Walker grows. Like, literally growls low and it does something to Bob. Until the handsome soldier spoke again that is. “She’s asking if you know which plane you’re on?”
Oh, that he knows the answer of! He thinks? Not really because he only knows their city and doesn’t really know the name of their planet.
“Isn’t this New Capenna?”
Walker throws his free hand up and the dagger lady just kicks a loose stone on the floor. “Great! A freshly ignited planeswalker!”
“Chill out, Walker. We were all new once,” dagger lady attempts to calm Walker down. If it were Bob, he would’ve calmed him down with a massage and a cup of the Halo he’s stashed at the back of his closet.
The short lady looking at him with an odd amount of concern brings him back to her question so he clarifies his answer. “Sorry. I don’t really know the name of our plane. I only know the city’s name.”
Short lady touches his arm, “Bob you’re no longer in New Capenna. You’re in Ravnica.”
“Wait, what?”