Arrival on Bimboton

Fantasia Blackheart sips Chardonnay as her jet cruises through the sky, musing on her money. She empties her purse, then reaches in and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, shaking her head: Unlimited money. She writes a check or uses her debit card? Her account has enough to cover it, period. She has an account at every bank she enters. She needs cash? She has however much is desired, in whatever currency is desired, in hand as soon as said hand is out of sight of all mortal eyes… as long as it's simple money, she has as much as she needs.

But infinite money is NOT the same as infinite wealth. Of itself, money is basically nothing. It's not food, shelter, or clothing. It's useful because almost everyone believes it to be valuable… but if you give everyone a million bucks, society collapses almost overnight. People go out to restaurants to eat… and find them closed because nobody showed up for work, as the cooks, servers, managers, and so on no longer feel the need for a paycheck. Likewise factories, farms, and stores all grind to a halt. At the end of the day, if anyone is going to eat dinner, someone has to actually prepare it, and nothing anyone does with law or finance can change that… but when it's just a relative handful of people with unlimited funds, they just cause a little inflation as long as they don't go TOO crazy.

Also, it rocks to be one of the handful… or would, if it weren't for that Sword of Damocles that is the Covenant hanging over her head.

Ms. Blackheart buckles up as the pilot announces the landing, waits for the landing and the taxiing, and gets up once she gets the all clear. She doesn't bother with luggage beyond her purse (she owns the plane, the only other people on board are her employees, and they know what to do), simply disembarking once everything's ready, using the mobile staircase provided in the rented hangar in this local airport. When she sees the local staff, she raises an eyebrow: Every one of them is a young blonde woman with a figure and skin that make them look like they should be in modeling… or maybe porn.

“Hey Lynnaris?” The rather shocked woman whispers.

“Yes Mistress?” A seemingly sourceless voice whispers in her left ear.

“What. The. Abyss?” That is, really, all that Ms. Blackheart needs to ask.

“They are simply the local employees provided with the hangar rental,” the subservient voice replies in the same whisper. “I did not arrange for them to be so… similar. I can investigate if you like.”

“Please do.” Fantasia takes a deep breath, “I do NOT like mysteries on my doorstep.”

“Yes Mistress,” the voice fades.

Lacking better options, Ms. Blackheart heads down the stairs, and checks the notes on her phone… she has a hired driver delivering a rented motor home and car (on a trailer) from fifty miles away, because all of the local hotels and car rentals are booked solid. That raises her eyebrows, so Ms. Blackheart stops and checks the city website.

After which, she takes a slow, deep breath…

…just in time to have an interruption from her Covenant **** whispering in her left ear, “Doctor Bimbo had a bit of an accident after a scuffle with some unimportant villain, and his power affected every living thing within a fifteen miles radius of the event at the time. It's why the recent name change for the town: The city council is leaning hard into the accident and advertising the effects.”

“I'm guessing that's also why the rentals are booked solid,” the dark sorceress let's out a sigh as she walks to the hangar door to wait for her ride.

“Yes mistress,” the whisper continues in her ear, “men from very far away come to see… and make use of… the changes to the flora, fauna, and locals.”

“That explains some of the pictures on the city website,” Fantasia shakes her head, “so those flowers that looked like…”

“They react like what they look like, Mistress,” the servant confirms, “and will continue to do so for a few days after being cut, depending on how well they're treated.”

“So no more mystery, but…” Ms. Blackheart takes a deep breath, “Okay then, thank you,” and steps outside.

“You're welcome, Mistress,” the whisper fades out as the Sorceress’ eyes adjust to the sunlight.

The magical maestra takes a bit longer to adjust to the view….