White Rabbit
(Part 2/2)

The familiar bleep of his wrist communicator alerted Paragon of an incoming call.

"Paragon here," he said as he answered it.

But instead of a face appearing on screen, he was presented with an image that was half cement and half brick work.

"Um... hi. It’s me, Prism," came the reply, presumably from behind the communicator’s camera. "I need to see you about something. Can we meet somewhere? It's important. I think."

"Very well. What’s the matter?" he asked, already using the wrist-com tracker to head in her direction.

"I just ran into Sycorax, and she wants me to give you this letter."

"Sycorax?" he said, not meaning to interrupt. "How did she escape the asylum?"

"I don’t know," Prism replied. "I’m sorry. I really tried, but she got away, and--"

"It’s fine, don’t worry about it," he reassured her. "Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?"

"I’m fine," she said.

He could hear some kind of shuffling movement just behind her wrist-com’s camera.

"I can’t see you," he said, tapping the screen of his communicator as he landed and approached the door of the old warehouse.

"Yeah. I’m getting dressed."

"You’re… what?" he said, his hand stopping over the doorknob.

"Long story short, I was turned into a frog. I’ll explain later, just, are you coming or not?"

"I’m right outside," he said. "Do you need a moment?"

"Ah, yeah," she answered. "Just one second... Okay, now you can come in."

The door knob rattled briefly, but it was locked. Instead of forcing his way in, he climbed in through a nearby window. It was an entrance less impressive and dignified, but needless property damage wasn’t his preferred method of entry.

"Good of you to show up," she said to him as she finished adjusting her suit. Her gloves, wrist com, and an envelope, lay on the ground nearby, which she gathered as she spoke.

"Of course," was his reply. "Now, you said something about a--"

He was interrupted by her wrist-com, which started bleeping as soon as she picked it up.

"Hello~!" she answered in a manner that was cheerful, but not entirely professional.

Photon Man's face appeared on screen. In the background was the interior of the photon jet’s cockpit. The vehicle’s quiet rumble was just enough for Prism to hear. "You alright? We got your signal, but there was an EMP, and, well, never mind. So what’s the buzz?"

"I’m fine now," she explained. "Paragon’s here."

"The big man himself?" He smiled slyly. "Should I leave you two alone, then?"

"It’s not like that," she told him. "Besides, I do need a ride back to base, and Paragon’s only seats one."

"Sure, I’ll be there ASAP."

"See ya," she said.

And with that, the call ended.

"So... the letter?" Paragon asked.

"Right." Prism nodded. "But it could be a trap, don'cha think? A bomb or something?"

"Can I see it?"

She handed him the envelope, and he examined it. "I don't think she'd do that. She doesn't hurt people without cause, and she’s had no reason to attack me."

Still, Prism took a few steps back, and Paragon opened the seal with his back to her.

But there was no explosion, no toxic smoke, no evil incantation: just a piece of paper, which he began to read in silence.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Hm..." he said as he continued reading.

"Well, what is it already?"

"She wants to pay for the damages she caused. You know, the dragon incident."

"Oh. That's nice, I suppose. I mean, it's better than nothing. If she's for real about it."

"I'm supposed to meet her at a specified location," he explained. "Come alone, no cops, etcetera. The usual."

"Well then that's probably a trap," Prism figured.

"Maybe." He nodded, but seemed doubtful.

"Should I come with you?" Prism asked hopefully. "I can watch your back."

"No, she said to come alone," he said, checking his wrist com.

"Oh, come on! I can help," he pleaded.

"I don't doubt your ability," he said, which was mostly true. "But it won't be necessary. Nothing's going to happen."

Prism crossed her arms. "What makes you so sure?"

"I just know," he told her.

"You," she began, and poked him in the chest with one finger, "are going to get yourself killed one day."

"No, I'm going to die peacefully in my bed at a hundred and five, surrounded by my closest friends and family."

"I hope you're right," she said, no longer joking.

"You worry too much," he said, giving her a friendly jab to the shoulder. Despite his great strength, he had the self-control to be surprisingly gentle.

"I know," she admitted. "Still, don’t let your guard down. You never know."

He nodded. "I’ll be careful."

"And look both ways before you cross the street." She smiled at her own joke, trying to cover the worry she couldn’t help but feel.

"Don't worry. Out of all of my nemeses, she's the one least likely to try something like that."

Lights flooded into the windows, and they both turned to see the photon jet landing outside; its rider stepped out and approached the building, leaning in the window that had so far served as the building’s primary entrance.

"Someone call for a ride?" Photon asked.

Prism waved. "One second!"

"Well, looks everything is settled here, so I’ll be on my way," Paragon said and went to the window. Photon gave him room to climb out.

Once Paragon had gone, Photon hooked a thumb over his shoulder as Prism came forward to exit as well. "What’s he up to?"

"I just had to give him a letter," she explained. At the mention of it, she lit up with recollection. "Oh! That reminds me!"

She ran back and picked up the second letter and handed it to Photon.

"There’s one for you, too."

"Why, thank you!" he said as he opened it. "I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day."

"It’s not that kind of letter! And it’s not from me."

"Oh, too bad." He stopped. "Then, who is it from?"

"Sycorax."

He stared at her in surprise for a moment. "Sycorax?"

"Yeah. I mean, that’s what-- oh, you weren’t here when we were talking about that. Sorry."

Holding the envelope a little further from him as if it had a spider on it, he eyed it suspiciously.

"Well... nothing happened to Paragon’s," she informed him.

"Yeah, but we all know she's got a crush on him. Anyways, I’d rather--"

She didn’t find out what he’d rather, because the letter glowed for an instant, then enveloped him in a burst of bright orange smoke.

"I guess your letter was different," Prism suggested as the smoke began to fade.

That night, at a quarter to twelve, Paragon waited atop the domed roof of the Planet Theater. He had in hand the list given to him by the city.

The night air was cool, but pleasantly so. When Sycorax was still a few minutes late, he hardly even noticed. Most of the big cities suffered so much air and light pollution that few stars could be seen. And yet, the stars above Argent still clung to the high ground, refusing to surrender.

When Sycorax finally did arrive at the scene—a full eight minutes past the specified meeting time—Paragon did not notice her arrival, nor was he bothered by the time he’d had alone with the sky.

"You weren’t followed, were you?" she asked said from behind him. "You came alone?"

"You know I did," he replied, turning to face her. "I'm sure you have ways of knowing."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "That’s why I had to get the letter to you in particular. Most of the others would have set a trap for me."

"I can’t say I didn’t consider it," he admitted. "You are a wanted criminal. But if what you said in the message is true, then I have to comply. I have to give you a chance." He handed her the list.

She looked at the total owed at the bottom of the page, and her eyes widened.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"It's... a little more than I was expecting."

"It's less than I was expecting," he countered. "You did attack the city with a dragon."

"Excuse me?" she retorted. "I didn't 'attack the city'. It was practically a parking violation."

He swiped the paper from her and looked over it. "Let's see… well, there’s the damages to the library roof…"

"Some scratch marks," she said, dismissively. "Barely even visible."

"Right. Then there’s the fire damages to a number of surrounding buildings…"

"Superficial damage," she clarified. "Nothing even burned down."

"Removal of the dragon's corpse--which was enormous, by the way. Cleanup of the dragon's..." he looked up at her from the paper, "'flaming stomach bile'?"

"Fire doesn't just come out of nowhere," she explained. "Biology has to make sense, even with dragons. It’s all a matter of chemical reactions and the like."

"Are you-- a sorceress-- trying to explain the scientific logic behind the biology of a dragon's fire breath?"

"Don't act like magic is nonsense or something," she said defensively. "Magic makes perfect sense once you understand it. Magic has rules and laws just like everything else."

"Alright, alright. I'll take your word for it."

"Thank you."

He went back to the list. "So, damages to the park grounds, disaster response personnel, time spent, labor paid, interest, and so on and so forth. You get the idea."

He handed it back to her.

"Very well. I'll have the funds delivered via courier."

"Well then that's settled," he replied.

"Good."

He wondered briefly what kind of courier she had in mind, and hoped it wasn’t what he was imagining based on recent events.

For a minute, neither spoke. Even the commotion of the restless city seemed distant and faint. Finally, Sycorax broke the silence.

"By the way, I wanted to thank you for visiting me while I was in the asylum."

"I’m sorry?" he replied, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. "I think you’re mistaken."

Sycorax laughed. "Are you really so embarrassed about it that you’re going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about? Did you think I wouldn’t see through some a thinly veiled disguise like that?"

Paragon hesitated. "I was wearing top-grade facial prosthetics and complexion altering makeup. I wouldn’t call that ‘thinly veiled’."

"You might as well have come in wearing glasses and a hat," she explained.

"But how?" he asked. "You couldn’t have cast any spells; your cell was anti-magic sealed."

"Come on. Really?" she teased. "After our little good bye before they locked me up? It didn’t take magic to know you’d come to see me. Besides, you didn’t even disguise your voice."

Having the sorceress flaunt the ease of her victory was irritating. He crossed his arms and turned his head to look away from her.

"Congratulations," he said sarcastically. "I bet you’re really proud of yourself."

"Oh, come on now," she replied in a conciliatory tone, "what I meant to say is..." She stepped forward and lightly placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you. Most of the time, they just throw you in and leave you there, like you don’t even matter. But you’re different. We’ve been adversaries for a long time, but you’ve always had a sort of chivalry to you."

"That’s because what I do isn’t about hurting you, or anyone else; it’s about protecting them," he made a sweeping gesture towards the city around them. "And yet, you’re different than the rest of the villains. You were always better than them."

"That’s because what I do isn’t about hurting you. Or them." She nodded over her shoulder. "It’s just about achieving my goals. I’m just glad someone understands me. That’s also why I had the letter given to you; I wanted to see you again."

She stepped towards him. He opened her arms, and she hugged him. He brushed her hair out of her face, and drew her closer to him. As soon as he kissed her, however, they were interrupted by a ground-shaking explosion, less than two blocks away.

Sycorax turned from him. "What is that?"

What they saw was a pod-like, bubble-domed vehicle emerging from the side of a building, surrounded by a shower of glittering glass shards. The contraption had ten long limbs like the hybrid of a spider and an octopus. Or the mechanical approximation of such a thing, at any rate.

"Doctor Nefarious, I presume?" Paragon muttered under his breath.

Sure enough, the doctor's voice boomed from the machine's speakers. He said something generic about greatness and feeble attempts and domination, etcetera. One of the limbs picked up a pretty blond woman in its steel claws to take as a hostage. Typical, really.

"You endanger innocent people," Paragon grumbled through his teeth, "in my city," his fists clenched at his sides. "And on top of that, you had to do this at the worst time possible!"

As the flying sword arrived at his side, he turned to face Sycorax. "Sorry. I need to take care of this."

"Don't worry," she replied. "I understand."

"It’ll just be a moment." He made a sweeping motion with one hand, and the sword flew at the machine, spinning like a saw blade. In a flash, it severed the claw holding the woman, releasing the hostage who was then enveloped in a transparent force field. The bubble descended slowly, releasing her gently on the ground below where she was escorted to safety.

Nefarious could be seen in the vehicle's domed cockpit looking frantically around for what had interfered. He finally spotted Paragon atop the edge of the roof down the street, and understandably panicked.

Sycorax put a hand on Paragon's shoulder. "Go get him, tiger."

The sword came back, and Paragon stepped onto it, and flew towards the nine-legged machine as it hastened to flee the scene.

Satisfied that the situation was under control, Sycorax decided to make her leave before her presence was discovered. She knew that Paragon would be disappointed to come back only to find that she had gone, but he'd live. Besides, she was anxious to check up on Photon, and hoped he had gotten the letter. She was quite eager to see how he looked with a beak and feathers.