The power of Friendship

“Free will. The loophole is free will,” Fantasia Blackheart laughs again, “I can't cut a deal, I can't **** it, I can't trick it, I can't do it myself, and nor can anyone else from my family… but if someone outside the family does it freely, with no promise of reward, no compulsion, and no threats… they can reset the countdown, or even pull me back… I need to find someone outside the family who can do it, and get them to honestly appreciate me enough to use the ability.” Blackheart pauses, “...which also means ‘no deception’ - I can't hide who or what I am, can't lie about… well, anything, really, if I want to be sure… ugh. Okay, so less of a loophole and more of a tiny crack in the armor. Still… hope. So… research….”

Knowing she can't rely on her ‘perfectly loyal’ helper in this matter, she turns to a tried and true method: Pay other people money to track down what she wants for her. She turns to a private investigation company she's used before with a “simple request”: Track down clusters of immortals who are “good people.”

By the time that's started? The four o'clock appointment arrives. The older Blackheart is exactly as saccharine as Fantasia remembers, thinly veiling vague threats and slights under a layer of false civility. The younger Blackheart is so very glad when it's finally over.

—

Six months and nine point five million in salary and expenses later, Fantasia is meeting with her contact in her more public office.

“So, Ms. Allison, what do you have for me?” Ms. Blackheart begins as soon as the pleasantries are out of the way.

A tall, slender, redheaded woman with dazzling green eyes in a wide-brimmed tan hat plus a matching trench coat and briefcase replies, “I finally have a lead that I think is mostly solid,” she smiles.

Fantasia Blackheart rolls her eyes at the theatrics, “Good. Let me have it.”

“Well, you wanted, and I quote: ‘Good people’, so we had to skip the usual: Vampires, mermaid flesh eaters, liches, and so on,” the dick who lacks the anatomy drones on, “those are much easier to find.”

Ms. Blackheart stares blankly at her hireling: They also wouldn't do. All stop aging directly, some of them need devices, and vampires… well, that's a fate worse than simply dying.

Ms. Allison continues, “They're cycling identities…” she hands over a manilla folder from her briefcase, and continues as Ms. Blackheart opens it to look at sorted pictures of state identification cards dating back as far as two hundred fifty years, depending on the specific person… all blonde women. “We almost didn't present this one, because of member four: She left the cluster after about seventy years, got married, and started aging normally… then came back forty years later after her husband died, and was again a young beauty.”

The sorceress perks up, “That is… actually useful for my scenario.” Actually halting aging won't work, but regular resets… that's exactly what she's after.

The private eye nods, “That's good to hear. So… the central figure…” she pulls another folder from her supply, handing it over, “...is detailed here. He's the oldest, and in the rare event where the cluster moves, all members who want to stay young stay near this primary. We're pretty sure he's the source.”

Blackheart opens the folder… to see a blonde woman in archaic military garb, dyed in a riot of several different bright colors. She doesn't recognize the lady, so goes through the paperwork: Dr. B. M. Beaux, an ‘open’ hero (no secret identity) with a hero alias of “Doctor Bimbo,” works with the local police in an official capacity as a civilian consultant. As the mage looks at the included copies of the lady's ID, she sees why the detective used masculine pronouns: That's what's been on HIS ID since he's had the option. They all have essentially the same picture despite the slowly increasing suffix. Observed powers: An instant **** field, and a Bimbofication field that comes with an age reset and healing turned up to eleven… and some witness interviews that make it clear enough he has to use one to use the other… life storage and transfer, really, with it getting ‘tainted’ as it comes out.

Blackheart smiles, “Yes… this is really close… good work. Keep at it, let me know if you find anything better. In the meanwhile, I will start in on this lead. Thank you.”

“Happy to be of service, ma'am,” the detective nods, and leaves, recognizing the dismissal.

Once she's alone, Fantasia speaks up, “Hey, Lynnaris?”

“Yes mistress?” The dark haired, pale woman, standing just a few feet behind the magical maestra's left shoulder, where she was most assuredly NOT a second prior, speaks up.

“Pack my bags, prepare my private jet, and arrange suitable accommodations,” the youngest Blackheart begins, “I have business in…” she checks the name in the folder, shudders, looks at the prior name of the town, and rubs her temples, “Bimboton. Might still be on some maps as Podunk.”

“Yes Mistress,” the familiar leaves, using the actual door for once.