Wrath, Greed

“Who are you?” Detective Alice Silver demands as she storms in, “And do NOT give me that, ‘I don't remember’ garbage.”

Should have taken Bluff… “I didn't give a name, not because I didn't remember, but I simply didn't know what to say: The truth is kind of hard to swallow.” I consider, “Got a pen?”

The woman shrugs and pulls out a basic BIC, holding it in her hand, “Yeah, I use it for writing down notes. Got something you can't say for the record?”

“Something like that,” I chuckle, “Set it down, please,” the spell I'm going to use doesn't work on attended objects. If she's holding it, even on her open palm, it'll fail.

She does, and I concentrate on a spell: Prestidigitation. It performs a large variety of minor effects, and lasts an hour. First thing I do? Change the color of the lens on the camera from ‘transparent' to ‘black’. The next thing?

One pound telekinesis. I lift the pen up from the other side of the desk.

“This isn't possible,” the woman just stares, “this has to be a trick. Wires?”

“It's your pen, and I haven't touched it. When would I have had a chance to rig it?” I chuckle, “actually touching it will break my grip on it, but feel free to wave your hand around to confirm there aren't any wires.”

She instead makes a big O with her hands, and runs it around the floating pen. Three times, then she reaches for it, pauses, and looks at me questioningly.

“It'll break my hold on it,” I shrug, “but that's served the purpose at this point. Go ahead and grab it to confirm it is indeed right there.”

She does, taps it on the table a few times, then brings it up to her mouth and bites it. “Okay, HOW?”

“Actual magic,” I shrug, “I…” suddenly find I can't talk as I try to go over the Eldritch Entity and the bet. So after a few seconds of silence, I finish with, “...can't say how I got it. But it's real.”

Ms. Silver holds the pen out in her hand, switching between staring at it and me, then eventually pulls a hip flask out of her jacket pocket, takes a long drink, and then a deep breath, “Okay. Disbelief suspended. I'm not going to call you crazy after that.” She drains the flask, “Tell me your story.”

“Well, up until some number of days ago…” I begin.

“How many?” She interrupts.

“I don't know. I lost somewhere between two and eight, I don't know how many yet, so it would have been between about three and nine days ago at this point. I'll get to that,” Ugh, my voice sounds like I'm trying to proposition her. I shrug, and continue, “...I was a white, lanky nerd on the way home from drinking… then a thing I literally can't say happened… and I went to bed. When I woke up, I was like this.” I gesture at the body, letting the blanket fall. It's not mine anyway. “and had some magic. Unfortunately, the event also apparently wiped me from history: I woke up in the same apartment I'd slept in the night before, but it was no longer my apartment. My ‘sudden appearance’ frightened a young couple, and they chased me out naked… I stole a T shirt that was laying around to try and cover up this mess,” I gesture at the four boobs, “**** times.”

“That was three days ago,” the Detective fills me in, “They filed a report… I'm on the **** beat, can ignore the petty theft given the circumstances, and technically you didn't enter it while it was theirs, I suppose… so continue.”

I pause, “Umm. Am I going to need to filter?”

“Would an arrest stick?” She rolls her eyes.

Hmm… Warp Sphere… I would need to swap out a talent for Unseeing Teleport, but I can actually do that, so… “not for long, no.”

“Doesn't matter then, does it?” She chuckles.

“I suppose not…” I take a breath, “Anyway, I found a bar to drown my sorrows…”

“How'd you…” she begins.

“I was wearing naught but a T-shirt and I look like this. Nobody checked my ID, there were enough guys eager to give me a drink that I didn't need to buy one,” I roll my eyes.

“Right, stupid question,” she shakes her head, “Please, continue.”

“Well, after the couple of hours it took for me to figure out **** doesn't affect me at all anymore, I left, and went into the nearby alley to set up a place to spend the night.” At her quizzical gaze, I shrug, and demonstrate, creating a shimmering portal on the wall, which I step through.

She follows me in, and looks around the gray ten by ten by ten room, “So… you have an instant walk-in closet.”

“Yeah, I can't currently store anything in it, though: It ceases to exist when I leave. Anyway…” we continue the interview where the camera won't hear me, “...before I could summon it, a beefy guy whom I'd turned down… violently, he kept grabbing me after I said no and slapped him; I ended up using my fingernails on his face at the bar before he left me alone… cornered me, grabbed me, beat me up with some brass knuckles, **** me, and then killed me: That's my body down in the morgue. I woke up face to face with my corpse this morning, started screaming and… well. Then you came along.”

Alice writes a few things down on her notepad, “So the body will show signs of ****, and be about two days old…” she considers, “...how do you feel about a sketch artist?”

“The bastard needs to go down,” I smile.

We spend some time going over other details… including coming up with a lie so I can get some ID: Slavery. Turns out it still exists. I simply claim my twin and I were kidnapped and shipped here, **** to serve as sex slaves, and suddenly I get a free T Visa (good for four years with eligibility to apply for permanent residence and eventually citizenship) and some assistance getting a place and a job… provided I cooperate with taking the bastard down. I don't particularly see that last bit as a cost… more of another benefit, really.

And Alice ABSOLUTELY wants to keep me.

“This room is amazing… tell me what all you can do…” she grins.