Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lizards?! Fucking lizards! 

“Why lizards?!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

Allie and Jason had been having this same incredulous back-and-forth for basically the entire ride to the coordinates they’d been given. King had called them into his office earlier that day with an assignment. Apparently, the EPO had been receiving reports of a rogue witch and botched transmutation magic, and they had finally secured a lead with the help of Felicia and her networks of ghosts. 

Their mission: follow the coordinates, find the witch, and figure out why. Why the transmutation spree, and of all the fucked up things to potion unsuspecting people into (or half-into, in some cases), why choose–

“Elijah?” Allie and Jason said in synch, turning to stare pointedly at him where he lounged in the passenger seat. 

Elijah, startled out of his attempt to tune them both out, shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never met anyone, witch or otherwise, with this deep of an obsession with reptiles.” 

Which was true, and it bothered him – turning people into dogs or pigs? Powertrip and ego, punishment, degradation. Turning people into predators, like dragons? Mayhem of a destructive, murderous kind. Turning people into other people? Politics, even espionage. But lizards or lizardlike humanoids, and only that? It was the kind of chaos that was hard to profile, and difficult to build a pattern around. It rankled him. 

Seemingly not getting the answer they wanted, whatever that was, Jason and Allie returned to swapping their bewilderment with each other about this specific mission, a loop of a conversation. Elijah readjusted in his seat, propping an elbow against the window to lean his head against his hand. He gazed at them idly; Allie was leaning forward from the back and Jason sat relaxed in the driver’s seat, one arm casually resting against the wheel. 

It’d been a few months since the Multiversal Mishap, as Marie was trying to coin it. Allie was– well, she was Allie, as suppressed about her issues as ever until the minute it all comes exploding out. The bags under her eyes were steadily getting darker. Jason seemed more…settled, nowadays; less hostile and prone to stabbing, at the very least. It had been weird seeing Jason in that state, Elijah admitted. They’d never been the best of friends, but it was unsettling to see Jason so on edge, tense, snarlish. But he supposed they all kept certain cards close to themselves. Did their best to keep the worst parts of themselves caged until the beckoning darkness inside them became too hard to leash. 

Whatever. As long as they all stayed on mission. 

Elijah turned his gaze away from Jason, bathed bronze in the mid-morning light, hair dancing from the open driver’s side window. Elijah slouched into the passenger seat, opting to stare out at the blur of green outside instead. 

– –  

No rest for the wicked, Jason sighed inwardly as he shut the van off. 

It had taken what felt like ages to nab this parking spot. They had hit traffic on their way in, and Jason determined that the only thing worse than Allie complaining was Allie and Elijah complaining. He’d steered up a rough sideroad, crying on the inside because his baby wasn’t meant for gravel, before having to navigate a maze of parked vehicles. With two incredibly unhelpful backseat drivers, no less! At one point, Allie tried asking Elijah if he couldn’t magic up a parking space, and Elijah snarked back why Allie couldn’t just science up a pocket dimension to park in, and Jason felt a headache starting up. 

Thankfully, fucking thank the gods, there was an open space big enough for his baby.  

The trio climbed out, grunting and stretching out stiff limbs. Jason took the opportunity to glance around – they stood in a clearing that served as a parking lot, cars boxing them in left and right, and people walked in groups past a fence into what looked like fair grounds. He could hear a cacophony of mirth and laughter from the other side, and the smell of food vendors rose high and far. 

“What I wouldn’t kill for a hot dog,” Allie groaned dreamily, nose in the air.

“Hey, focus. We’re here to track down a witch, not get you a late breakfast,” Elijah said sternly. 

“I can snack and search. It’s called multitasking,” replied Allie with a roll of her eyes. 

They got past the entrance unnoticed with the help of a quick glamour spell, courtesy of Elijah, and stepped into the fair proper. On one side of them sprawled markets and food stalls, on the other stood wooden stages with the audience spaces already packed, and all around them milled people in costumes. Gowns and full suits of armour, elf ears and staffs, and every sort of weaponry he could imagine being faked, and then some. Jason spotted at least two centaurs. Swords clanged together off in the distance, a familiar sound muffled under every other noise. 

“Whoa,” Allie breathed out.

“What the hell is this?” Elijah frowned at a passing gaggle of fairies. 

Jason turned to blink at the two of them. “Have you guys never been to a ren fair?” 

“A what?” Elijah swivelled that frown to him.

“A renaissance fair, it's where people dress up in medieval costumes and pretend to be medieval, I guess,” Allie explained to him, and then to Jason, “I’ve heard of them, yeah, but you know, I was always in the lab and then Area 51 and– yeah,” she finished, staring around dreamily. “I always wanted to go to one, though.” 

Allie said that last part small, like it wasn’t really meant for anyone to hear. 

“Cult kid here,” Elijah flicked up a few fingers to gesture to himself. “I’m more of a Gothic era guy myself.”

“Well, I’ve been to a ton of these,” Jason stated.

“You have?” Allie inquired, one eyebrow raised.

“Uh, yeah. I literally lived through the Renaissance. And we,” he moved his hand in a circle, “need costumes.”

“What? Absolutely not,” Elijah protested. 

“Look around you, Elijah. We’re standing out too much. We’ll give ourselves away before we even see the witch,” argued Jason.

“One problem,” Allie interjected. “We don’t have costumes.” 

Jason paused for a moment, eyes sweeping the markets, the makeshift village, the performance stages. “I have an idea. Follow me,” he said, ushering the two of them without giving them a chance to protest.

He found a tent nestled in the mess between the village and the stages, unoccupied but stored with extra costumes and props. 

“We gotta hurry here, someone could come by any minute,” Jason whispered as he held up the tent flap. Getting caught redhanded in the act of pilferring costumes, no matter how true to medieval it was, was guaranteed to get them kicked out, and alert to this elusive witch that the EPO was onto them. 

“Hey Jason,” snorted Allie from somewhere farther in, “you should definitely wear this.” She held up a court jester outfit. 

Jason rolled his eyes, deadpanning, “Ha ha.”

Quickly and efficiently, they changed, keeping their backs to each other even in the dim light of the tent. Jason secured the straps of his gauntlets over his shirt sleeves before helping Allie tighten the strings of her dress’s built-in corset. He’d thrown on whatever rags were closest, ending up in faux (definitely faux, no mistaking the quality) leather pants and tunic, and light armour around his forearm. His sword was shoved through his belt, seamless in a ren fair. Allie dawned on the red and white dress of a noblewoman, and pulled her hair up. The dress was long enough to cover her combat boots, and her jacked-up taser (more of an electrocution gun, if Jason’s being honest) was hidden in a clever pocket in her skirt. Their normal clothes were stuffed away in a hidden corner of the tent.

The only difficult part was Elijah:

“Oh, come on.”

“No.”

“You have to, it goes with the outfit!”

“Nope.”

“You’ll stand out with it. You’re too obvious otherwise – look, it hides the tattoos!”

“I will kill you both.”

Eventually, and to Allie and Jason’s utter glee, they were able to coax Elijah into an honest-to-god wizard costume – black cloak with big white stars sewn in draped over loose, starry robes. He held a large staff painted to look like knotted wood at his side and a large pointy hat to finish the ensemble. 

Elijah looked downright murderous. Allie looked ready to cry with laughter. Jason wished he knew how to use the camera function on his phone.

“Alright, enough,” Elijah said gruffly. “We’ll need to split up to cover this place. Jason and I will go north and east, Allie you take west. Find something, call someone. If not, rendezvous at the entrance in one hour.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Allie gave an ironic salute before heading off, hiking up the hem of her skirt so she didn’t trip over it.

“And no stopping for food!” Elijah barked out after her, only to receive a middle finger as response, deeply amusing Jason.

Elijah sighed tiredly, “let’s just get this over with.” 

– – 

Of course Allie stopped for food, are you kidding? 

Meat pies, turkey legs, chimney cakes, candied pickles, fish and chips – Allie’s mouth watered simply inhaling the cornucopia of aromas. 

To be fair, Allie reasoned to herself, it’s not like she’s slacking while snacking on the job. She’d been sending her mind outwards to pick up magic traces, like Elijah had taught her to – something about tuning into the energies around her or tapping into natural leylines or some other mystic bullshit like that. Usually, Elijah’s lessons (nagging) passed through one one ear and out the other, drifting into background noise while she busied herself with something actually important (and real).

All Allie really needed to do was visualize, and pay attention to the pressing tension at the back of her mind, like a buzz or a hum, then a flicker, and…ping!

Smoke and heat weighed down the air as Allie browsed through the market aisles with interest. The scents of food wafted from vendor stalls, and music from the speakers mingled with the noise of the crowds around her. It wasn’t only the food that caught Allie’s hungry gaze – present were wares from weavers, lacemakers, woodcarvers, and blacksmiths. She scanned from handwoven baskets and lace capes to forged iron spears. When she’d been studying at MIT, she overheard her dormmate chirp excitedly over the phone on more than one occasion about the renaissance fairs they’d attended. While Allie had grown intrigued at the mention of blacksmiths, she had quickly become fascinated with renaissance fairs as a whole. But she wasn’t lying when she claimed there was never the time – between tinkering all night at the labs, consulting on cases for Area 51, and proofreading her professors’ lessons and formulas, a ren fair was simply out of the question for her. Then after MIT, she’d started working for the EPO and all her time that wasn’t spent on missions was spent trying to find her parents across the multiverse. 

Though maybe those were wasted efforts on her part, a dark, bitter part of herself voiced. They seemed happy enough to settle down in the first apocalypse they ended up in.  

With her mind pinging like a radar, Allie walked through the market aisles, taking in everything she could. Eventually, her feet take her to a sparsely crowded stall nestled in a large canvas tent, the entrance flaps tied open by fraying ropes. Rustic, Allie noted with the mildest interest. Inside, visibly old shelves displayed bags of tea and coffee, dehydrated smoothie mixes, ceramic cups – and nothing was priced below double digits. Any space not marketing something was filled with a plant spooling leaves down to the ground or sitting pretty inside a terrarium. At the back of the tent, behind a couple of small wooden tables for customers, was a bar. Obviously where people were supposed to order, if the cash register was anything to go by; behind it was a table with only two blenders and an assortment of fruits and vegetables, wet like they’d just been washed. Propped up beside the counter was a blackboard balanced on an easel, the menu items scratched in cursive with colourful chalk. 

Again, nothing going below double digits. 

“$28 for a fucking smoothie,” Allie grimaced. “It better have fucking gold in it or something.”  

“It could, but that’d be an extra charge,” chimed a voice. A woman entered through the tent’s back entrance, the flaps falling shut behind her as she came to stand behind the counter. 

Red lips tilted into a smirk. Dark eyes glittering with amusement. “It does come included in the Mango Madness, though.” The woman leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the wood. Her frame was hugged by a green linen dress. Dark hair tamed into a braid fell over one shoulder, and a pointy black witch’s hat sat on top.

Every inch of visible skin on her was covered in tattoos from the chin down. 

“Oh, I- um, well I didn’t see- uh-”

“But,” the woman drolled, cutting off her stammering with a voice as rich and smooth as Allie’s favourite coffee, “I tend to give discounts to pretty girls. If they ask nicely.” 

The woman raked her eyes up and down, and winked at her. Heat rushed up Allie’s neck and into her cheeks. “Oh, oh you think I’m– uh, sorry, I - ahem - assume you run this business?” 

Shit, Allie cringed at herself.  

The other woman chuckled lightly before straightening up. She hooked her thumbs through the belt cinched at her waist. Random fabrics, packets and herbs were tied to it, along with a small dagger, bringing her witchy look together.

“Welcome to Viper Piper’s Potions and Smoothies,” she grinned. “Got a drink that’ll heal any ailment you can experience. Nausea, stomach pains,” her eyes flickered over Allie’s face and said softly, “heartache.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Allie scoffed. “Like a smoothie could be that good.”

“Mine are.” The woman shrugged casually, like a direct jab from Allie Watts meant nothing to her.

She peered at her more closely. A few strands of hair fell out of her braid, framing her face alluringly. Allie looked away quickly, focusing on the interesting terrarium behind her. 

“So, uh, I take it you’re Piper?”

“Pretty girls get to call me whatever they want.”

Allie jerked her head to meet her eyes again, choking down a strangled noise that threatened to escape. “Will you st– just answer the question,” she gritted out.

The smile had never left her face, not even once. “Why do you need my name so bad?” 

Allie didn’t speak, glowering silently at the other woman.

She relented as easily as she’d been this entire conversation. “I am Piper, but I’m also known as Viper to a lot of the other vendors around.”

“Why ‘viper’?” 

Piper leaned forward, so suddenly that Allie didn’t have time to react until she was there, and she was staring into deep, abyssally dark eyes. “Probably because I bite,” she practically purred.

Piper leaned back out of her space, and Allie felt herself breathe again, if a tiny bit shakily. Piper flashed her a tightlipped smile. Allie’s pulse pounded. “Now are you sure I can’t talk you into a Mango Madness? I’ll even throw in extra gold dust, just for you.” Another wink.

- 

Allie stormed out of that tent with her fucking Mango Madness, furiously slurping the thick liquid down. At least Piper, or Viper, or whatever didn’t skimp on the gold dust. Allie figured she’ll be coughing up shimmer for days. 

Allie kept moving, so lost in herself that she didn’t realize she walked straight into a throng of people. Pissed, she was gearing up to elbow her way through before a tug on the bottom of her dress stopped her. She looked down, startled to see a tiny fist holding onto her. Said fist belonged to a tiny little girl dressed as a fairy godmother, star wand and all.

“‘Scuse me,” the little girl said, “but where did you get that?”

“Uh….” 

“Can I have it?”

“Uh.” Oh no, no, nope, Allie does not do children, never has, never will. 

And though Allie would never be desperate enough to wish Jason were here, even she had to admit the guy was useful in times like this. 

“Lily, we do not ask strangers for their drinks,” said a frazzled-looking woman, presumably the mother, thankfully scooping up the child. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Allie reassured, about to slip away before an idea struck her. 

She turned back, spying the mother with at least seven children, five of whom seemed childish and annoying, and the last two looking like they’d be real brats.

“Actually,” said Allie, approaching the woman with a bright smile. “If you want to know, I got this glittery little drink-” she shook the cup and made the dust swirl, bringing every kid’s eyes to it- “from that tent right over there.” Allie pointed out Viper Piper’s before continuing. “They’re having this amazing sale right now where every drink comes with gold dust. And teens get half-off. And kids are free.”

Hook, line, and sinker. The mother’s eyes intensified at the words kids and free, and the kids were goners at gold dust. 

From behind her, “I’m sorry, but did you say Viper Piper’s having a sale?”

“Sure did,” Allie confirmed, grin so big it was starting to hurt a little.

Allie went down the aisles, making sure to mention loud enough that Viper’s having a huge sale, haven’t you heard? She was also able to glean information from the brief conversations exchanged: Viper was a staple at most ren faires, known for her steep pricing by fellow vendors, and notorious to other vendors for other reasons. Attempts to dig into that last part turned people shifty and made them clam up, but Allie figured she’d heard enough to validate her suspicions. 

Plus, regardless of what she felt about magic, she trusted her mind. 

– – 

The north end of the fair didn’t hold much, Elijah surmised quickly. 

A village with a shabby town square, random on-theme vendors, and a huge, unlit hearth. It seemed to be mainly a place for people to sit down, eat and rest their weary feet – or hooves. Elijah passed by a group of wizards who tried inviting him to play some sort of game involving dice, and with valiant effort he suppressed the urge to light them on fire. 

Elijah moved on from the village. Dragging his dumb staff with him, he continued onward aimlessly while sending out his mind to detect witchcraft or chaos magic in his immediate vicinity. He was getting nothing so far, unless you count the beginnings of a delightful headache. 

His meandering took him to the performances area, where jugglers and contortionists on stages or sturdy barrels awed onlookers. The sun was bright above, and though Elijah was starting to swelter in his dark clothes, the wide-brimmed hat of his stolen costume shaded him, which he was slightly grateful for. This will be something he takes to his grave. 

Elijah stopped by a stall and ordered himself another tankard of mead (ugh) from what Elijah assumed was meant to be a barmaid. His no-food rule didn’t apply to drinks, obviously. Other wizards strode by, tossing him a congenial nod which he reciprocated with a glare. Damn Allie and Jason, he seethed. The two of them teaming up was nothing but trouble for him.

Baroque music blared through scattered speakers, not loud enough to drown out the chatter beside him:

“Did you see the new guy over by the combat area?”

“The one with the super cool sword? Hell yeah I did, that dude’s killing it.”

“Right?! I was like ‘who is this man,’ haha.”

“Didn’t we see him in archery too? I think he hit, like, all the bullseyes.”

“Oh, and bobbing-for-apples! He smoked everyone’s ass.”

“This guy’s on a fucking roll. Do you think he’ll be in the jousting tournament later?”  

Elijah downed his drink and moved away from the giggling group, having heard enough. While he would usually keep himself to the edges of a crowd, scanning for witches with his mind alone necessitated that he not remove himself from people as much. He felt for pulses of magic or arcane malice, for ancient practices that both bent to and defied the natural order. 

Maneuvering past small hordes and ducking out of the path of wayward wings, he finally reached the combat area. Lined with decorative shields, the trampled dirt circle inside caged only three people; but the real focus, the reason for the gathered crowd abuzz with excitement ringing the area like a kennel, was one person. A man with a wicked sword and a fiendish grin as he faced down his two opponents with such competent ease that Elijah felt a twinge of pity for them. Jason twirled his sword behind him to block a swing to his back, before stepping out of the way so he faced both of them at once, footwork so light it was like a dance. The crowd whooped with astonishment. The two swung, and Jason parried like he already knew their next move. This went on, with Jason giving only enough to pose a challenge to the clearly lesser-skilled duo, all three holding their own. If the two were trying, Jason was having fun, letting them learn almost like he was instructing them. 

Elijah could appreciate a display of skill. Jason’s hair was windswept and sweatsoaked, and his skin gleamed under the sun. There was a lightness to his body that Elijah doesn’t think he’d seen before. But it was time for this to end. Elijah moved himself to the inner edge of the ring closest to the fight. Swathed in dark robes and a stupid hat, he let Jason’s dark eyes lock onto his. Something imperceptible shuttered his expression, but Jason knew his cue and brought the fight to an end. Both opponents were defeated with three expert swings of his sword and some eyebrow-raising footwork. 

Jason lingered long enough to offer his new swordfighting buddies a hand up and some brief words. He had to lean in to deliver them over the cheer of the crowd. Waving off his new fans goodnaturedly, Jason made his way to Elijah, who had moved to stand somewhere less crowded. He used one of the random rags his outfit comprised of to pat away the sweat from his eyes. 

“So, any luck?” Jason panted lightly. He tucked the rag away. 

Elijah simply raised an eyebrow. “You know we’re here to investigate, right?”

“Hey, I’ve been looking,” Jason defended.

“Winning archery contests isn’t looking,” Elijah countered.

“It's suspicious if I don’t participate in the games,” Jason argued. “Besides, I am keeping an eye out. Didn’t Allie say something about multitasking?”

Elijah tilted his head to stare at Jason with withering eyes. “And I suppose you're keeping an eye out while you’re bobbing for apples too?”

“Hey, this witch could be hiding in a barrel,” Jason shrugged. 

Elijah rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time this day. “Whatever.” Shaking his head, he muttered mostly to himself, “I can’t believe you won that.”

“Ah, what can I say,” Jason smirked, swiping his hair back from his face. “I’m just that good with my mouth.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes at him, unamused. “You’re distracted, Jason. Focus up.”

“I’m distracted?” It was Jason’s turn to quirk up an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s been followed without even noticing.”

“Who says I didn’t notice?”

They knew who they were talking about. A tall man, walking stiffly and awkwardly, large lumps in random spots bulging under his shabby, dark cloak, like he was carrying tires under it. He’d been tailing Elijah since they’d first split up, and probably had known the moment the Technomancy Unit stepped foot onto the fair grounds. Now, he lingered by a trash can, keeping Elijah in his periphery as much as Elijah kept him in his. 

“Think that’s our witch?” Jason asked. 

Neither of their gazes strayed towards the man. Nothing in their tone or posture gave anything away. 

“Or an accomplice,” Elijah considered. 

“Plan?”

“Thinking of one. Open to options.”

“How about the joust?”

Elijah let out an irritated sound. “You’re still going on about these stupid carnival games–”

“No, hey, listen. Take a place in the joust, it's in a bit. If he follows you, we can ambush him and find out who he is and why he’s stalking you.” 

“I don’t joust, Jason.”

“You don’t have to. Just pretend you will and we’ll lead him to one of the outlier tents, they’re usually pretty empty. Then, we get him.”

Elijah hummed, pondering. “Not the worst plan.”

“It’s the only plan we got.”

Jason and Elijah looked at each other, like they were sizing the other up. The everpresent tension is still taut between them, and it couldn’t be put aside but it could be ignored for the sake of a mission, or Allie. Those are the only two things they could come together for. 

With a nod, Jason started forward, pulling a rag up as a makeshift bandana to help block out the smell of horses, and their shit. He snickered quickly to himself at the idea of Elijah having to breathe it in. 

Elijah moved to follow him, trailing their unsuspecting stalker along for the ride.

– – 

Allie loves when everything goes according to plan. Her plans, specifically.  

She couldn’t help but smirk to herself as she stealthily picked her way behind the vendor tents, passing behind large crates, boxes, and portable generators until she found the tent she was looking for. Viper Piper’s had a second, smaller set up meant for stock behind the main tent for customers. 

Customers who were swarming like a locus plague, spilling out of the larger tent to pool around it. Viper Piper’s was flooded with the demands of worn-thin and fed-up parents, screaming babies, whiny toddlers, edgy tweens, and temperamental teenagers all demanding one thing or another from the Viper. Piper. Whatever. 

Point being, the witch was busy fending off demands for discounts and outraged cries when it wasn’t granted. Allie allowed herself a quiet snicker at the clamour before slipping into the undefended storage tent.  

On the drive over, Elijah had detailed to them what to search for, what specific mix of ingredients to be on the lookout for based on the reports. So far, everything looked normal for a smoothie shop – farm-fetched ingredients, hand-squeezed juices, organic yogurt, chemical-free this, ethically sourced that, raw blah blah blah. Allie rolled her eyes at the labels as she scanned through them, walking further back into the tent. Her eyes surveyed everything as she kept a mental catalogue. Knives hung off a magnetic knife bar – oh, of course she’d have a magnetic knife bar. 

She kept searching, until – aha! 

Buried behind everything else was an unassuming chest, wood so plain that it was splintering. On the front was an iron lock, decorative of course because the real lock was magical. With her mind’s eye, Allie could see the layers of magic keeping it latched tight. 

Piper must’ve thought it was an intimidating enough array to discourage even an attempt, but compared to what she went through with Sabriel, this was laughably elementary. She kept half an ear out while she knelt and went to town – she wouldn’t be able to hear approaching footsteps, but the noise outside was loud enough to assure her that Piper was kept well at bay.

It wasn’t long before she worked through the spell, but it was longer than she’d hoped. Allie shook off the sudden feeling of unease, and opened the chest with both hands. 

It was exactly what she was expecting to find: a boxful of dead lizards, all in varying stages of decay. The oldest were nearly liquified in glass containers and the newest were thrown in whole haphazardly. Dismembered lizard body parts were sorted into smaller boxes, labelled tails, hearts, brains, and the like. A specially tempered, sealed glass vial stored separate from the rest held a strange liquid. Allie picked it up to hold it at eye-level. Purple and viscous, it almost seemed to bubble. 

“I’d be careful with that if I were you.”

Allie whirled around, leaping to her feet.

“It’s a corrosive substance, that one. I’d hate for any of it to mar your pretty little face,” Piper said lowly, her dagger unsheathed from her waist.

“Oh, yeah?” Allie challenged. “Well I’d hate for it- for your pre- for- fuck you!”

“Yeah?” Piper flicked up an eyebrow. “Alright,” and she lunged without a second’s notice, knife swiping a deadly arc.

There wasn’t a lot of space to maneuver in, but Allie jumped aside, using the edge of another crate to launch herself forward and out of the backed corner she’d inadvertently ended up pinned in. The Viper was quick, spinning around with the dagger held just in her fingertips, making to throw it and land a bullseye in her heart – but Allie was quicker. 

She held up the vial like she was about to launch a baseball, and Piper stopped in her tracks.

“Whoa there,” she said, unmoving from her position. “I wasn’t joking when I said that stuff’s dangerous.”

“Oh, it is?” Allie said in her most mocking tone.

“Yes,” Piper emphasized, her own aim unwavering. “It's highly potent, one drop is all it takes.”

“You don’t say? Well, as a scientist myself, I’d rather get my facts empirically,” grunted Allie, the vial already sailing through the air before she finished uttering the last word. 

As she thought, Piper dove out of the way, and the vial landed and shattered in the chest. Immediately, everything began melting into itself, the purple goo eating through everything it touched in a bubbling hiss. 

Piper looked from the destroyed mess of her precious chest to Allie, and glared with anger almost as fiery as the goo. “You’re going to pay for that,” she seethed.

“Well, I doubt I can write this off for reimbursement,” Allie joked, but her guard remained up. If there was one thing Elijah had drilled into head after so many years as partners, it was that all witches, no matter how they appeared, were dangerous. 

“You have no idea what you’ve cost me.” 

Piper hurtled forwards, meeting her in a ferocious struggle as she tried to slide a knife between her ribs. Allie managed to twist her arm harshly and force her to drop the knife to the floor, then received an elbow to the gut for her efforts. She stumbled back from the force, winded and grunting, and Piper’s immediate left hook sent her staggering in disorientation. Before she could recover from the blow to her head, Piper was on her. 

They grappled as they moved across the cramped tent, stumbling into boxes and shelves, knocking over whatever they collided with. It caused Allie to trip on the mess, stepping over the hem of her ridiculous dress and ripping it up the side. It did free her leg, but at the cost of her balance. They tumbled down together, and Allie took her opportunity to slide her thigh around Piper’s hip and twist until they landed with Allie on top, pinning the witch to the ground. Before she could move though, Allie had her gun to the Viper’s forehead. 

“Why the fuck are you doing this? And why fucking lizards!” Allie demanded, and while she may be breathing heavier,  her voice was still loud and steady in the small space.

Though she’d stilled at the press of metal to her head, the witch looked as cool as a cucumber, like she still somehow had the upperhand. Piper grinned languidly and tipped her head back, drawling “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before Allie could reply with something scathing and sarcastic, the shrieking and yelling of panic outside broke her attention away from the Piper momentarily, a split-second lapse, which was all she needed to get the upper hand and flip them over. Her calves immobilized Allie’s legs, while a knee captured her arm to her side. Piper pressed her gun arm down on the ground above her head, her grip on her wrist strong and steel-like. The witch’s other hand reached for one of the knives they knocked down from the magnetic bar, resting the cleaver on Allie’s throat. The sheer width of it forced her to tilt her head back, the heavy weight making it hard for Allie to swallow. Or breathe. 

An involuntary shiver wracked through Allie’s body. Sweat beaded on her skin. The edge dug in under her chin, the gentlest threat. A pearl of blood.  

“Now, pretty thing,” the Viper purred, leaning in close, “why don’t you answer some of my questions, hm? Before I–” 

Whatever chaos had exploded outside wouldn’t be ignored for anything, it seems, because a horse – a fucking, fucking – horse barelled into the tent, ripping through canvas like paper, a weird metal plate on it’s head and it’s body covered by a fabric. Massive and panicked, it only narrowly missed trampling over them. 

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Allie used the mayhem to kick Piper off her, taking her gun and pistol whipping the witch across the face, rendering her unconscious. 

Allie knelt panting in the wreckage of the tent, holding a shaky hand up to her throat. No real cuts, nothing, but it had been way too close for comfort. She knew what her mother would say – how could she let herself get into a situation like that? She should’ve fought better, paid more attention, not let herself be cornered. She knew what her father would say, what King will say; she knew what they all said. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her hand was still shaking. 

Casting a baleful glare down at Piper, Allie wished she had fired her gun and electrocuted her. Just a little. 

Allie took a breath, forcing herself to relax and stop trembling like a child. Looking around her, she wondered what fuck was happening. Everything was a mess, but it sure as hell wasn’t her mess. The tents were in tatters, and people and horses were scrambling everywhere. It was absolute fucking pandemonium all around her. 

Eh, at least she got her witch.  

“Better go find Jason and Elijah,” she sighed, before heaving herself up to go grab her idiots.

Chapter Text

“Great plan, Jason, real nice work.”

“Oh don’t even– will you just pass it to me?”

“Here.”

“Oof – gee, thanks.”

Shaking off Elijah’s rough shove of the sabaton, Jason hurriedly stripped off his current armour and replaced it with his newest ensemble, stolen straight off a random, unsuspecting knight. He and Elijah had knocked the poor guy unconscious and dragged him into the far corner of the barren tent they’d seized.  

“This isn’t going to work,” Elijah stated, giving Jason a critical once-over. 

“Well, yeah I don’t have a fancy wizard’s hat,” Jason ignored the other’s glare, “but it’ll have to do. We don’t really have another choice, anyways.”

Elijah was silent a moment, dark eyes tracking his hands as they flew over the straps of the ecranche, securing it to his left shoulder. “So much for your plan.”

“When’s the last time anything we did went according to plan? I didn’t think your stalker would actually enter the tournament, so now we pivot. If you’re not in the tournament, it might tip the guy off that we’re onto him.” 

“And I can’t joust,” Elijah sighed.

“And you can’t joust,” Jason agreed. “Which is why I’ll be taking your place. I’m sure I can knock his helmet off too, see if we can’t get a look at your man’s face.”

“He is not my man. Here, use this.” Elijah stripped off his wizard’s cloak and handed it to Jason, who looped it over his shoulders and around his torso like a tunic, hoping to at least visually reinforce that he was Elijah. 

It left the actual Elijah in his wizard’s hat and robe, the shirt of his typical three-piece suit peeking through the loose collar. Jason wondered how he wasn’t sweating buckets by now.

As he was adjusting his helm, he noticed the pensive expression on Elijah’s face. “What is it?” 

“I just don’t know why this guy would bother with the actual tournament. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah,” Jason seconded. “It’s not like he can kill you. The lances are dull and fake, all of them.” 

Jason heard himself – well, Elijah – being called. Flipping the visor of his helmet down, he strode out of the tent. Before he left, he glanced back over his shoulder. Elijah had torn off his ridiculous hat and tossed onto the slumped over knight in the corner, propping his staff beside him too. 

He still seemed bothered, but there wasn’t much Jason could do about that. 

– 

The sun beat down on Jason as he waited in the tiltyard keeping his horse in check. He’d been handed the reins and settled into the saddle quickly, resisting his nature and not engaging in small talk with the ground crew scuttering around underneath him. They were already giving him side glances for showing up fully dressed with his helm on his head, the last thing Jason needed was for someone to clue in on how much he was not the knight that signed the waiver forms.

The horse he’d been given was white in coat, mane organized into neat, sectioned braids. The caparison covering it for the tournament was branded with the logo of the ranch it was borrowed from, but the metal chamfron on its face was plain and bare. He’d already performed the necessary pageantry, waving up to the stands. He gripped the pommel of the saddle in front of him now with a tight hand, trying to settle his energy.

Elijah’s comment gnawed at his thoughts, why would he bother being in the tournament? He’d barely be able to give Elijah a bruise. He worried at his lip inside his helm. Before long, though, the Knight Marshal signaled for the next round to begin, and the ground crew’s bustling intensified.  

Jason urged his horse to the beginning line. Before him, a wide rectangle of sand stretched out, divided into two lanes by the tilt, a simple wooden fence, with a roped countertilt defining the limits of where the horses were allowed to canter. There was a shaded stand set up for the Court of Honour and the Ladies Court to preside, dolling out points and penalties to the jousters. There was a sizable crowd already standing around, and the forest loomed tall and thick behind them. As soon as he strolled into view on a dark horse, Jason locked onto the man at the opposite end. The man that was supposed to be in this tournament as little as he was. Tire-like lumps seemingly distended the armour he wore. The helm on his head seemed oddly bent.

A hush fell over the crowd like a blanket as the Knight Marshal stood. 

Though he couldn’t see him, Jason knew Elijah was somewhere haunting the crowd, watching over the proceedings. 

A lance handler passed Jason up his lance. He gripped it, flexing his fingers until he caught a solid hold. The weight was familiar in his palm, and his arm tingled with the echo of centuries past; the thankfully distant memory of all the drills he had to run.

They were called to start, and Jason and the man opposite him urged their horses forward in a canter.  

The first pass ended in a miss. The mishappen armour of his opponent made it tricky for Jason to aim at the ecranche. Jason also noted that the guy was clearly aiming for his head.

The second pass ended in a tip-to-tip, the ends of their lances glancing off each other. 

On the third pass, though, as Jason lowered his lance in a levée, he shifted in his saddle, inching back in a slight lean to let the glare of the sun catch on his armour. A minute flinch from Elijah’s stalker told him that this plan, at least, worked. With him momentarily distracted, Jason tensed his right shoulder and thrust his lance forward. The muscles in his back and arm flexed as the lance reached across the tilt and hit dead-center into his ecranche with a ferrule strike powerful enough to throw him off his horse. But before he could fall out of reach, Jason in a lightning-quick twist of his lance, pushed forward just enough to swipe under the helm before retracting. Jason craned his neck over his shoulder as his horse carried him, praying to gods above that it was enough to loosen his helmet so they could see the stalker’s identity. 

The horse brought him to the end with perfect pace, a model of equestrian obedience. The crowd erupted into cheerful commotion, shouting excitement as the judges called scores. Ground crew began swarming him as he dismounted, but he brushed past them to walk over to where the other rider was crumpled on the sand, slowly shifting like it took tremendous effort to gather himself up. Jason was halfway to him, flicking up the visor from his eyes, when a scream made him stop – one of the lance runners tasked with picking up after jousters was doubled over, clutching his hand in pain. The flesh was- was sizzling. Below him lay the stalker’s lance, eaten away not by a winning blow but by a viscous, purple liquid, slowly melting it from the tip down; the sand beneath where it touched was bubbling. 

Jason whipped around to his opponent, who had gotten to his knees. His helmet had slipped off in his head, exposing–

Scales, as green as poison. Face protruded into a snout, mouth parted to expose hooked, serrated teeth and the brief glimpse of a pink, writhing forked tongue. Eyes the slitted yellow-green of a dragon. 

So, not human. 

Realizing his disguise had fallen, he glared at Jason and rose, standing on two legs and something…shifted underneath his armour, strong enough to make metal bend. With a loud screech, the armour fell off him with a burst, revealing what had been coiled under his disguises – a tail, long and powerful, cracking with the force of a whip. Scales as thick and darkly green as the rest of his body. 

Jason didn’t register the clamour around him, not with the guy, the lizard creature, lowering his torso, as if preparing to lunge. With blood roaring past his ears and adrenaline kicking up in his veins, his muscles tensed into a brace. His eyes caught the shine of talons at the end of scaly arms. The creature’s gaze flickered to something over Jason’s shoulder and widened.

With one last glance to Jason, the creature turned and sprinted.

“Go! I’m right behind you!” Elijah grunted, chanting some spell behind him as Jason cursed and gave chase.

As he did, he heard people screaming in panic, and the ground thumped with the thunder of spooked horses escaping their handlers and stables. 

He barreled after Tall, Dark, and Scaly past the treeline, trying to keep him in his line of sight as they weaved around trees. At one point, Jason ripped off his helmet and threw it behind him in frustration, the more cumbersome pieces of armour following suit as he flew through the forest in pursuit. He broke through the treeline, but his foot caught on a hidden rock; on instinct, he tucked himself into a roll as he tumbled down a small slope. 

He fell into a basin of sorts, unfolding into a kneel in a perfect circle of flattened dirt. The towering canopy blocked out the sun, casting the area in shadow. 

In the center stood the lizard creature, bipedal and snarling. 

He’d run straight into a trap. 

Jason stood, slow and wary, eyes unmoving from the figure in the center even as Elijah burst through the trees behind him, leaping down to a stand beside Jason as they faced off this humanoid reptile. 

“Elijah Long,” the lizard spoke, voice a deep, guttural thing. He tilted his head, and sneered, “Jason Fenix.” 

“Who are you?” Jason called out.

“You may call me Lazla,” the lizard replied, bowing his head politely. If nothing else, at least the guy’s  got manners.  

“Why have you been following us?” Elijah demanded.

“Just you,” the creature clarified. “My plans have no need for an immortal.” 

Rude. He took back what he said about manners. “What the hell do you want with Elijah?”

“Oh,” and the thing’s snout lifted into what he must’ve thought was a grin, “he will find out in due time.”

“Alright,” Elijah growled, “This guy’s pissing me off.”

He flicked his hand in a gesture that Jason recognized as usually summoning some kind of magic, but nothing happened. Elijah blinked down at his hand in shock, before shouting “Ignis!” 

Elijah’s hand remained empty.

Elijah was visibly taken aback, confusion written all over his face. Before them, Lazla’s inhuman grin only widened. 

“Something wrong, Elijah Long?” He taunted.

“What the hell did you do?” Elijah snarled at him, furious. Scared too, Jason noted – but Jason had enough sense to never point it out to him, ever. 

Lazla whipped his tail to hover over the ground behind him, twisting it in a complex pattern until the earth beneath them vibrated and the air deafened with a loud HUM. The loosely packed dirt shook apart until they were revealed to be standing in a fucking pentagram of wires and thin pipes, pulsating with lights and electricity. 

“Welcome, Elijah Long and Jason Fenix,” Lazla declared, arms spreading wide beside him, “and witness the child of magic and science, the fruit of an earthly witch and a being of the stars. Behold, the Seal of Lazla.”

His booming announcement fell on an unimpressed audience. 

“You just ripped that off from the Seal of Soloman!” Jason accused. 

“Originality’s truly dead, it seems,” deadpanned Elijah.

Lazla, annoyed with their lackluster response, sneered. “Your connection to your leylines is severed here, Elijah Long. You have stepped into an artificial antimagic circle.”

“And what exactly would a being from the stars need an antimagic circle for?” Jason pressed.

“That is for us to know, and for you to not get in the way of. That, I shall ensure.” That was Jason’s only warning before Lazla suddenly lunged, his trunk of a tail swinging around to slam into him viciously. 

“Jason!” Elijah cried, before dodging an attack of his own. 

Jason staggered to his feet, groaning. He passed a hand over his torso, where his chestplate had become dented from absorbing the force of Lazla’s blow, the wizard’s robe torn to shreds. Elijah ducked out of several swipes from Lazla’s talons, and Jason could see him still twisting his fingers, trying in vain to summon his magic. His three piece suit didn’t give much way for evasive maneuvers.  

Eyes locked on Lazla, Jason undid the straps of his damaged chestplate, holding it by its edge, and sent a quick mental apology to the guy he’d taken it from. “Elijah,” he called out, “leave him to me, you focus on finding a way to break this circle!”

Then he whipped the chestplate at Lazla like a Frisbee, hitting him square in the neck and making him stagger. Elijah leaped backwards to stop near where Jason stood and if his eyes revealed gratefulness at the reprieve, it wouldn’t be voiced. 

“Here.” Elijah pulled out his sword from somewhere in his robe and tossed it to him.

Jason caught it in one hand and unsheathed it, the scabbard falling to the ground as the steel of the blade sang in clear resonance. He spun it around his hand, testing his grip before sinking into stance. 

This was familiar, more than magic or science. The tension of a battleground, so severe it was almost unbearable. The second nature of his starting stance, calling up bone-deep muscle memory. Reflexes honed until it was instinct. A weapon in his hand and an enemy before him. It was all as natural as breathing. If Jason were to pursue darker thoughts, he would say this was what he was meant for. Born and bred for. 

The uptick of  a breeze rustled the leaves around them. 

In the corner of his eye, Elijah darted away to the edge of the circle, sliding to his knee to inspect the gibberish of wires and circuitry embedded into the earth. It meant his back was to Lazla, entrusting him to Jason. 

He tightened his grip and dashed forward, meeting Lazla’s talons with the flat of his blade. He stepped under, bringing his sword down to block the upward swing of his tail with the crossguard before disengaging. He sprung away quickly, moving backwards to contain Lazla in the middle, far from the edges where Elijah frantically studied the circle’s workings. 

Lazla attacked with tail and talons and crushing snaps of his jaw; Jason parried and blocked and jerked away from each advance. Lazla’s defences were strong, leaving him with barely any openings for Jason to exploit. The most damage he was able to do were a few cuts and scratches, which meant that if anyone were keeping score, Jason was technically winning. Lazla hadn’t landed a single blow on him since the first one.

But immortal as he was, he didn’t have infinite endurance. His strength was waning. He poured with sweat, blinking away stray droplets from his eyes. Eventually, his guard would be worn down completely, and he was under no pretense what that would spell for his teammate. 

“Any day now, Elijah,” he grunted, gaze never straying from his match.

“I’m working on it,” Elijah yelled back.

“Well, work harder.” Jason dove to his right, narrowly missing a fatal swing. 

Lazla chuckled a throaty, arrogant laugh that grated on the shreds of Jason’s patience. In a split-second move, he brought his sword up against Lazla’s downward swipe, before twisting his body underneath so he could step behind Lazla to place his full weight on his tail, carelessly left vulnerable. Jason reared up to kick Lazla in the chest, sending him careening back. 

“Elijah,” Jason demanded, patience thinning by the minute. 

Elijah let out a gnarled noise of frustration. “It’s no use! I don’t fucking understand this bullshit.” He sounded desperate, but that wasn’t helping either of them.

Jason glanced at him. “Eli– oof!”

His distraction cost him; Lazla kneed him in the sternum, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Jason struggled as his torso spasmed, coughing up spit with burning lungs. He got a shaky hand under him, digging his hand into the dirt like a handhold. He felt the lizard man’s heavy footsteps pounding towards, almost atop him.

Almost.

When he determined Lazla was near enough, Jason sprang up, flinging a fistful of dirt into his eyes. Lazla cried out as recoiled, blinded long enough for Jason to pick his sword back up, despite the protest of his ribs, and create some distance. 

This wasn’t working.

“Elijah, get out of here! It’s you he wants – find Allie and leave him to me!” 

Jason couldn’t die. Not truly. Couldn’t for two thousand years, so what’s one more death to add to the count? 

Elijah hesitated, edging the circle. 

“Go!” Jason commanded.

Elijah let out a strangled noise Jason was too busy defending himself to bother deciphering, before turning and stepping out of the circle, about to make a run for it.

But then he stopped cold. The air felt like it shifted again. 

Elijah turned back, slowly. 

“What the hell are you waiting for?!”

Elijah extended his arm, palm towards the sky, an incredulous look upon his face, and intoned “Ignis.” Immediately, fire licked into existence at his will, blazing with power. 

Jason and Lazla froze, halfway towards lunging at each other with sword and talons raised, to stare at Elijah standing outside the antimagic seal, fire balled up in his hand. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason mumbled in disbelief. 

“Oh shit.” Lazla’s eye widened, nearly bulging out of his skull, as his shoulders dropped in dawning realization. It would be comical if it wasn’t so unbelievable. 

“You fucking idiot,” stated Elijah before blasting the ball of flames at Lazla.

The lizard flung his arms up against, granting Jason the opening he needed.

Dashing in as Lazla turned around to try making another run for it, Jason stabbed his sword down on his tail with singleminded brutality, pinning it to the ground. The lizard roared in pain, turning around on instinct. (there was fire in the air) Jason ripped his sword out, spinning to slice across his stomach before aiming a savage kick at the same spot, sending the beast doubling over in agony. (there was smoke, choking) Another slice, and another cut, whirling on the thing with blinding fury. The body moved quicker than the mind. (everyone shrieking in the slaughter. the town was burning) In a single, ruthless move, Jason jammed his sword up and through the beast’s shoulder, forcing it to its knees. 

“–son!” 

Viciously, he ripped his sword free again. With a nasty snarl on his lips,  Jason raised his sword above his head in a double-handed grip. 

“Jason, that’s enough!”

Jason gasped raggedly and stepped back, chest heaving. He felt like it was caving in. His arms sagged until he dropped them to his sides, sword still clenched in his fist. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the plumes of smoke out, but no. There’s no smoke. This wasn’t- this wasn’t – he wasn’t–

Jason shook his head, trying to return to himself. He ran a hand over his face, pressing at his eyes like he could clear the images of slaughter from his mind. He felt unsteady; he thought either the whole world was trembling, or he was. 

Elijah came to stand beside him, but not too close, Jason noticed hollowly. He had a pensive expression to his face, dark eyes peering at him deeply like he was trying to figure out some kind of puzzle. Jason said nothing, couldn’t, didn’t have the energy too, but he held his gaze. He was Jason Fenix; even rocked to his core, he’d be defiant. 

Maybe finding the answer he was searching for, maybe not, Elijah flicked his eyes to Lazla, who knelt before them battered and bleeding from the onslaught. “We need him alive for questioning,” he said simply. He seemed back to his old self, detached and thinking himself above everyone. The raw mix of confusion, fear, and desperation from earlier was far gone, locked away with the rest of Elijah’s emotions. Maybe in the same box where he hid his humanity. 

Lazla’s tail, skewered limp beside him, twitched; his gaze eyed them hatefully, as cold and inhuman as a snake; the muscles of his thigh visibly tensed. It was all the indication Jason needed for Lazla’s last-ditch attempt.

Before he could rise even two inches to attack Elijah, Jason lunged forward, slamming the pommel of his sword into the side of Lazla’s head. He collapsed to the ground instantly. 

Elijah merely looked down at his unconscious form boredly. 

“Well,” he sighed. “I guess we better go find Allie.” 

– – 

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

“Love the optimism, bucko. Why don’t you write that into our mission report, eh?” 

Jason rolled his eyes and before he could respond, he spotted Elijah making his way towards them. 

The field had long since been cleared of cars, only the black vehicles of EPO officers and agents dotted the lot. From what Jason could see, they were wrapping up work on the civilian crowd, adjusting their memories of the day as they went.

When Jason and Elijah reunited with Allie, it was in the middle of the chaos the fair had exploded into. Their respective offenders were hauled behind them, tied up and still out for the count. With Allie having already called it in, they recounted the broad strokes of what they each went through – Allie with her witch, and Jason and Elijah with their joust and battle in the woods. It wasn’t long before agents arrived on the scene and got to work wrangling the humans and horses alike. 

The tent where they had stored their clothes was fully trampled, but luckily their go-bags were still in the back of Jason’s van, tucked out of the way for situations just like this one. Allie and Jason slipped into regular clothes again. Since neither of them felt like interacting with other agents, they used the med kit in the van for their injuries. 

A few minutes of quietly sterilizing their scrapes side by side seemed to do the trick to bring them back to themselves. Allie seemed less shaken by the time the med kit was closed and packed away. The foggy stupor Jason had been under since the forest had receded.  

Elijah came up to join them where they leaned against the side of his van, falling sideways to slump his left shoulder against the driver’s side door. He’d long since tossed the rest of his wizard’s uniform, leaving him in only the suit he’d worn under. It wasn’t exempt from damage, however, and Elijah had to remove torn layers until it left him in only slacks and a button-down. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and collar left undone, and Jason vaguely thought it was the most he’d seen of his skin, every inch inked with runes for protection and power. He crossed his arms loosely and Jason looked away.

“They have cleanup handled here.” Elijah nodded in the vague direction of the fair to indicate. “All the horses have been rounded up, and finally back under control. No lasting injuries.” 

“I just feel bad about all the destruction,” stated Jason, tilting his head back against the van to stare at the sky. The sun was slowly setting, faint wisps of pink-orange beginning to streak above them. 

“It’s all property damage.” Elijah shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m told it’s covered under event insurance or something.” 

“What the hell even happened,” spoke Allie, the tone of her voice not asking a question.

“Well,” Elijah answered, “you remember that missing alien case we were on a long while back? The one for Area 51? Turns out, Lazla’s our missing alien.”

Allie and Jason let out a synchronized “Oh” at that.

“And that’s not all. Apparently, the guy’s an extremist and a lunatic.”

Jason snorted, “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“What is surprising was what a couple Area 51 guys found in Lazla’s hideout. Some crazy convoluted plans for taking over the world by turning everyone on Earth into reptilian humanoids that he’d rule over as Lord and King.” Elijah rolled his. “He was somehow inspired by David Icke? I don’t know.” 

“Icke? Like the reptile conspiracy theory guy? Ugh, he was so weird.” 

Allie turned on Jason with intensity, a bright glint in her eyes. “You knew David Icke?”

“I didn’t know him, but he was fucking annoying.”

Allie only nodded in agreement.

“Wait, so what about the witch, Pepper or something?”   

“Piper,” corrected Allie. 

“Yeah, what does she have to do with everything?”

“Known better as Viper at the Bazaar,” Elijah continued. “She’s infamous for being a shady witch, and always willing to take the back alley deals no one else would. I guess one day Lazla approached her with a proposition she couldn’t refuse.”

Allie dragged a hand down her face, disgruntled. “So their grand, genius plan was to use potions to turn people into Scalies?”

“...Scalies?” Jason and Elijah both asked, tilting their head confusedly at her. 

“Ugh, I give up with you two,” she groaned. “You hurt me, you really do.”

Jason let out a light chuckle at that, amused. He was about to say something else when an EPO agent strolled up. One of the newer recruits, telling from how he didn’t hesitate to approach them, stride steady and eager. Tall, dark olive skin, and even darker eyes. His tousled brown hair bounced with every step.

“Ms. Watts, Mr. Long,” he greeted, nodding to his teammates before turning to him. “Mr. Fenix, hello. I’m Agent Michaelangelo Simoni.”

Simoni introduced himself with a wide, pearly white grin. His smile reached the twinkle in eyes – yeah, he was definitely new. Jason shook Simoni’s offered hand when neither of his teammates did, noting his hold as firm and warm. And lingering just a second too long.  

“Can we help you, Agent Simoni?” Elijah griped from beside him, and Jason suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the unmerited rudeness.

“Sorry about him. How can we help you, Agent Simoni?” Jason smiled kindly at him. 

“No apologies necessary,” the agent waved off goodnaturedly. “I only wanted to report that the culprits have been taken in. The witch is on her way to headquarters for further questioning. The alien is en route back to Area 51. The rest of the agents are finalizing securing evidence before we too head back to Uada Falls.” 

Simoni reported all this with his hands tucked behind his back. New recruits always reminded Jason of new soldiers, still wet behind the ears no matter how they puffed their chests to seem otherwise. 

“Wait,” piped Allie. “What about that antimagic circle? What are they doing with that?”

Simoni dipped his head towards her in acknowledgement. “Our agents have collected extensive photographs and have documented all they can. Currently, they are deconstructing the circle to transport it back to the EPO for further study.”

Allie opened her mouth to object harshly at the poor kid, but he beat her to the punch, smoothly cutting in, “They attempted to teleport it whole, but the circle resists any magic acted upon it as much as it does to magic within it.” A beat. “They also debated the merits of securing a bulldozer and heavy duty helicopter to remove the circle while keeping it intact, but that idea was struck down by Special Agent King when requesting approval.”

Allie settled back against the van, mollified but maybe a bit disappointed she didn’t get to yell at anybody. 

“Hey, Agent Simoni,” Jason called, and once he looked at him, “is there any news about the ground crew kid? He got his hand burned pretty badly by Lazla’s venom, and I want to make sure he’s alright.”

Again, Simoni smiled wide at him and said, “He is perfectly fine. One of the healers already took a look at him and while it’ll leave a mark, there’s no permanent injury or impairment.”

Jason felt relieved, something in his chest easing at the words. “Oh,” he breathed, “that’s good.”

“It’s kind of you to check about the civilian, but are you alright, Mr. Fenix?” Simoni asked suddenly, and shifted to lean a little into his space.

“Huh?” 

“I was informed you took on the alien all by yourself, with nothing but a sword.” He continued coyishly, putting a hand to his chest, “I was very impressed when I heard that. That alien was so big, it must have been quite the battle. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Agent Simoni didn’t bat his lashes, but it was a near thing.

“Oh, uh, thanks, thank you Agent for checking in, but I’m fine,” Jason replied.

“Of course,” he practically purred. “You must be quite the fighter. Very skilled with your hands, I’m sure.”

“Uh–”

“Thank you, Agent. That will be all,” Elijah interjected sternly in clear dismissal, his tone leaving no room for objection. It saved Jason the awkwardness of having to endure this conversation only to turn the newbie down as gently as he could. Whew.

Simoni’s eyes cut to Elijah, narrowing almost indiscernibly, before flicking back to him. “Well. I hope to see you around, Mr. Fenix.”

And with that, the agent turned and left, returning back to whatever section he had stepped away from. 

“Kids these days,” Allie judged, and Elijah made a noise in agreement. 

Before either of them could start shittalking a new agent behind their backs, Jason said, “Come on, guys. Let’s go home, I think we’re done here.” 

They all straightened back up, stretching and groaning out their kinks and knots before piling inside the van. Allie was in the back, Jason at the wheel, and Elijah in the passenger seat. 

Jaason could make a passenger princess joke, but he valued having his head attached to his body too much to do so. He started the van up and peeled out of the lot, taking the road back to Uada Falls.

“I can’t believe a fucking talking gecko came up with an antimagic circle before I did,” Allie grumbled.

“It was idiotic too,” Elijah scoffed. “If I could still blast magic from the outside into the circle, then what was the point?” 

From the corner of his eyes, Jason spied the subtle tensing of Elijah’s shoulders, the clench of his fingers where they were semi-buried in his crossed arms. 

“It’s a little funny,” Jason offered. “They’re kind of like you two.”

Elijah turned to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

“They do what you two do. Obviously Lazla and Piper did it for evil, but still – the blending of magic and science, and stuff.” 

Elijah and Allie shared a disgusted glance before they both started talking:

“Uh, yeah no–”

“Her magic, if you could even call it that–”

“His wiring–”

“-rudimentary-”

“-piece of shit-”

Jason groaned internally, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut. There was truly nothing more annoying than Allie and Elijah teaming up to be completely insufferable. At least when he and Allie did it, it was fun. 

The van flew down the highway back home, the sun sinking behind them.