Evan Kyriokis - wageslave with a dead dream and a legacy

If Evan would be asked to describe himself he’d say: Average Joe. Twenty five, brown hair, brown eyes, moderately fit thanks to sporadic visits to the gym and working a desk-job he didn’t enjoy but that paid the bills. It said a lot about Evan that he wouldn’t even mention that he had powers. Technically.

Evan had always been interested in the occult, and when he was just seventeen he stumbled across a book containing real spells in a yard sale.

And that might have been the birth of a new mystical hero (or maybe villain). Might. Evan studied the book obsessively for five years, translating the ancient writing contained within and deciphering its wisdom. And in the end he had learned three important things:

A) The book was – basically- ‘Elementalism for Dummies’ containing exercises suitable for young mystics about to take their first baby-steps into the arcane arts.

B) He sucked at hit. Hard. The best he could do was send a few ripples across a filled cup or make a candle flicker slightly, when the goal of those exercises was to make the cup spill over and snuff out the flame

C) His college-fund was running out so it was to late to change his major. And majoring in history might have been an invaluable help in unlocking the books secrets but would be of dubious help in getting a job.

Said job prospects weren’t help by Evan going into a bit of a depression when his dream of being the new Giovanni Zatara died, tanking his grades. If it hadn’t been for one of his friends and study buddies pulling a few strings to get him a job at the Gotham Museum of History, Evan would probably be paying his bills with some truly ungrateful job in the service industry right now. (Although there were times when Evan wondered if flipping burgers in his hometown might have been preferable to moving to Gotham of all places.)

Nowadays Evan had somewhat made peace with the fact that the only place he’d be a powerful wizard was when he choose one as a class in a game. And while working in procurement ( ordering toilet-paper, cleaning supplies, new stock for the gift-shop etc.) wasn’t very exciting or well paid, the job had it’s perks. Like access to the museums back-rooms.

The really valuable stuff was locked in a special room of course, but a lot of it was just old junk that was trotted out every few years to round out one exhibit or another. Like an entire kitchen worth of utensils from the founding-era of Gotham. Interesting? Sure.But even in a crime-riddled city like Gotham it was doubtful anyone would bother stealing a bunch of old pots and pans.

But if you were looking for some inspiration or reference-material that storage-room was invaluable. So Evan made a point of checking out any new arrivals if he could( and maybe take a few photos).

Which was how he found himself standing in front of an open crate containing a few bronze candlesticks and an ornamental oil-lamp. An oil-lamp that had a visible scratch where one of the candlesticks had shifted a scraped across the little brass cap on the spout.

The scratch looked fresh, which meant someone had screwed up royally. New pieces were carefully documented and photographed upon arrival, to prevent any claims they were damaged during their stay at the museum. In fact Evan had documented part of this collection himself this afternoon, and nobody had mentioned anything about visible damage.

Which meant this had probably happened when one of the interns had carried the crate inside. Probably Peter. The guy was nice enough, but damn if he wasn’t an irresponsible ass sometimes.

Evan gingerly picked up the lamp, to inspect the damage ..an almost dropped it when the damaged brass cap suddenly popped off like a champagne cork, followed by a plume of dark purple smoke.

In the time it took the cap to fly halfway across the room and hit an old breastplate with an audible *Dong*, the smoke had solidified into the form of an improbably proportioned Ararbic girl with long dark hair and glittering purple eyes. Her voluptuous body was covered in thin purple silks that accentuated her near nudity rather than hid it, an outfit that made Harley Quinns new look seem modest. She looked like a stripper or porn star playing up the "harem girl" cliche - if she hadn't just seen her form herself out of smoke, Evan would have thought the woman was late for her shift at one of Gothams innumerable strip clubs.

“Hah! Told him that seal wouldn’t hold me forever!” she purred in a throaty, sensual voice with a satisfied smirk on her face, before turning her attention to Evan “So, let’s see what I have to work with.” Her eyes widened slightly as they fell on Evan “Oh! This is going to be fun! ”

Evan gulped audibly, partly because the way the genie(?) was leaning forward gave him an excellent view of her cleavage and partly because…..

“Well, well, well…..” woman purred “…I can see you guessed already that I am a …. How would you put it?... A sealed evil in a can? ” she reached out to scratch a frozen Evan under the chin “But here is a little secret: I could be YOUR Evil in a can, if you let me.”

When Evan didn’t answer, she continued “I am Inara, and ” she smiled suddenly “ and I see you already know not to mistake an Ifrit for a Genie. “ she gave him a gentle pat on the head ”Clever boy! And hurray for occultism-otakus and their websites. ”

Evan finally mustered up the strength to break through his terrified paralysis to croak “How..?”

“How do I know all this?” Inara finished his sentence “Easy. I know everything you know, down to your deepest darkest secrets and desires. And what fun desires you have! I’d love to help you make them reality! ” she gave another throaty giggle “Awww, don’t look so shocked! Would you prefer to make your wishes in an obscure dialect that died out a few millennia ago? And explain all the technological advances, pop-culture and history – personal and general- for your wishes to make sense to someone who last walked this earth over a millennia ago? And…” Inaras form drifted apart in a purple cloud before reforming right next to Evans to murmur in his ear “..I promise I won’t judge. No matter what you wish for.”

The sensation of Inaras hot breath on his skin, broke the spell completely and Evan hastily stumbled backwards until his back hit one of the shelfs. “but you would twist them right? Because you are an ifrit?!” he said, trying to pull himself together.

“I might.” Inara purred “If you insist on making a _boring _wish. I have to uphold a reputation as the mistress of vices after all. Mostly of Lust ” she ran a finger along one of her breasts, with a wink “ if you couldn’t tell.”

“And ” she continued her finger drawing lazy circles around a nipple tenting the thin gauze of her top “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I once met a man. History has forgot his birthname, but the Amazons might still remember him as Kyrios. It’s greek for”

“Lord. ” Evan nodded “I know.”

“Well in this case ‘master’ - on second thought probably 'The Master' with a capital M- might be a more apt translation. There was an entire city worth of beautiful women who called him that, back then. Thanks to a little help from me, of course. And just like you he was wary of me at first, but in the end he used his last wish to ask to find me again at a later time. ” she sighs

“But then the stupid oaf got greedy while I was helping out someone else, and decided he needed an Amazon for his pleasure-gardens. And that’s how he got himself killed by some annoying goody two-shoes. So his last wish brought me to his rightful heir instead. ”

“Heir!?” Evan asked.

“Yes. Now don’t flatter yourself too much. He left a lot of heirs. What with a city-sized harem before the invention of contraceptives and all. But so few kept the family name. And fewer still kept all that wonderful magic he wished for. Yes, watered down as it may be, you at least have a spark of the wonderful sensual bonfire that was Kyrios. So for old times sake, I’ll go easy on you.”

“You will?” Evan asked, trying to think of a way to get out of this bizarre situation. Because no matter how tempting she made it sound, nothing good could come from those wishes.

“Yes. Because here’s a little something most people don’t know: If you don’t make a wish before dawn an Ifrit can inflict a penalty. But for my old friends sake “ she snapped her finger ” I’ll make the first one more of a mixed blessing. ”

Evan felt a light tingle, and then ..nothing. He didn’t feel any different than before. “What did you do?” he asked.

“You’ll see soon enough. I can see how you try to keep all these wonderful fantasies of yours under lock and key, so I decided to give you a friendly encouragement, not to be a stick in the mud. ”