Becoming monsters is the creation of AiLovesToGrow, setting used with permission

 

This idea comes from Amethyst Dragonfly. 

 

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Chapter 4: Collision Course

 

They’re just… in there being cute. Why am I here, again?

 

Brittany had been posted up on a rooftop with her best pair of binoculars, looking in through this man’s second-floor dormitory window, for the better part of three hours. Three. HOURS. Justin had woken up first, drew some stuff, then Abbey had woken up. After that had been kisses, cuddles, what looked like homework, more cuddles, a pause for breakfast (orange juice, cereal, and apples… which Abbey sliced up for them? She didn’t even do that for HERSELF), then more kisses and cuddles, and now they were talking. About what, Brittany couldn’t hear. She never did pick up lip reading, either via skill practice or Class Ability, and her simple binoculars didn’t have a boom mic attached. Both seemed really into it, though. 

 

This seemed to be moving really fast! Even if she couldn’t hear what was being said, she could see a lot about the tiny room through that window. Justin was a fairly typical example of College Boy, Senior type, one each. If you’ve met one, you’ve met them all. Minimally clean, both the self and the room, and getting used to presenting themselves for after graduation. Minimum setup in the room to save money for One Expensive Hobby. An arrangement of snacks that would make the health professors and doctors cringe. Or, at least, he SHOULD have been. Abbey was seeing to that, and boy HOWDY was she diving in!

 

Drying rack. Plenty of pillows and good-quality sheets in her favorite sapphire colors. Clean floors and walls. The aforementioned fruit in the mini fridge. It was like she’d spent their first date night moving in, since this was only their second night sleeping in the same bed according to Abbey. This was completely unreal! Two years working together, and Brittany had pegged her for the type to step up and demand he conform to her own terms. She’d go swimming, he’d either follow or drown trying. Not this. Not flitting around his dorm room practically doting on the guy. 

 

A sudden flash of motion where it didn’t belong. Brittany wasn’t the only person trying to get a look at her quarry, apparently. A brunette in clothing way too nice for what she was doing was sneaking around the bushes beneath Justin’s window. She was an interesting one, looking like another student and obviously not used to trying to do this kind of thing. She kept looking up at his window, obviously focusing on it. Maybe trying to overhear what was going on?

 

If so, she’d chosen a really bad place for it. The angles were all wrong, there were other open windows and air conditioning units providing interference. Even if she got something, without being familiar with Abbey she’d never be able to pick her voice out to follow.

 

Amateur.

 

Still. Brittany suddenly had a new and interesting target. It didn’t matter how badly she wanted to find out about one Justin Majors and how he managed to hook one Abigail “Dee” Williams that hard. Someone else was trying to spy on her best friend. Couldn’t have that, now could we?

 

Of course, Christine was not having the best morning of her life. Or her week. Still hung over but determined to get a start on things, she had thrown on the first clothes she’d grabbed that morning, suffered through breakfast hoping to catch the lovebirds at the cafeteria, and then meandered to the dorm where Justin lived. The guy at the front knew which room Justin was in, but also knew that Christine had no good reason to be there and told her to leave. It didn’t help that Christine had dated his former roommate, a month-long endeavor that brought her into the orbit of the pre-med students and cemented her into the ABCs of Heartbreak simultaneously.

 

It never occurred to Christine to try to climb up to get closer to the window. For one, there weren’t any convenient handholds. For two, it was a fairly public place in broad daylight. For three, she couldn’t really climb.

 

And for four? She knew she wasn’t alone.

 

Inside the building, on the same floor, lived a man who was also really curious about what was going on. One who Christine was currently having a fling with to keep sharp between more important boyfriends, a music major named Tim. The same Tim who noticed Justin’s suddenly-improved mood. Though most people would be happy for their friend, Tim had the unfortunate distinction of being on the bare edge of passing, and needed the distraction of another creative in a funk to give him breathing room.

 

A conundrum, to be sure.

 

Still, it meant that he needed to know what was up, and had access to maybe make it happen. Especially with the legendarily thin walls in this building. There were days it seemed like the whole thing had a weight limit the architect had to obey, and in a desperate need to fit as many rooms as possible they decided to halve the thickness of the structure. Thing is? Inexplicably, absolutely no noise was coming from the room. No conversation, no activity. Heck, he couldn’t even hear the dulcet tones of Justin’s favorite music (an unholy late-90s to early-aughts mix that seemed to consist of nothing but earworms).

 

The one sense that worked was smell. The draft coming from under the door was lemony fresh. A fact that seemed impossible given the funk that used to flow out of there all of 48 hours prior. 

 

Tim kept walking, brushing by a different guest. Jennifer was there, too, intending to visit someone else on a different mission… but also wanting more information. She, unlike the two other snoops, had already put two and two together about who the new girl probably was. Then again, this didn’t calm her down about it at all. If she’d been a Catfolk, the curiosity would have cost her five lives. 

 

Back on her stakeout, Brittany saw Abbey suddenly snap to attention and pull out her phone. Kind of a frustrated look on her face, as she began to get changed. Looks like work clothing, the Bank must have called. So, a choice to be made. The Spy could not be in two places at once, and with no time to prep (and the room resisting low-level surveillance magic for some reason) she could not observe both. 

 

He started to get changed, too. Work clothes. Okay, that made it easier. Tail Abbey to the Bank, then go check out Justin again. Seriously, though, dude was not as attractive with his shirt off. Shoulders were nice and broad, sure, but the muscle underneath was lacking. Who the heck was he? It was like every dead end collided there! No time to ponder, Abbey was moving. Time to go.

 

Abbey felt like she was being followed as she made her way to the bus stop. Like there were eyes everywhere, and all of them were pointed at her. She looked around. Nobody she recognized at the bus stop. Lots of college students around, without having spent her time in the trenches here there was no way of knowing which was who. Or who meant what. 

 

A pretty redhead sat down at the stop, binoculars around her neck and her nose buried in a book about ornithology. Another, a vaguely-familiar blonde who looked like a cheerleader, glanced her way briefly before returning to her phone. So did a guy in a shirt patterned like ink splatters. Couple of other frat bros were having a conversation that seemed to consist at least 25% of the word “bro,” shirts showing Greek letters. Three Sorority Sisters were having a conversation that sounded vaguely catty. 

 

This place was unusually crowded for a bus stop on a late Saturday morning, but maybe it was more normal here? Her Wish-implanted memories didn’t say so, but the ones outside of her direct time with Justin were hazy at best.

 

That was worth analyzing. As she stepped into the bus, she mentally started going through those memories. Specifically, looking for memories of time that wasn’t right next to Justin. Though those were not terribly frequent, they followed a theme. If she was with him, traveling to or from meeting him, or preparing for him? The memories were sharper. If not? They were either dimmer or no doubling existed. The overlay wasn’t comprehensive.

 

That… made sense. Wishes tended to be “good enough” solutions to impossible requests. They had limits, despite popular myth. Her Attributes were barely starting to recover, point by point, but that made the point for her. It only granted what was necessary to complete the request. Path of least resistance. So… what did that mean here? 

 

She gained memories of what she’d need, and much less otherwise. Names of friends and family, birthdays she’d repeatedly helped him remember, places she’d gone to buy high-quality markers, other places she’d gone for them after the first turned out to be a smuggling front (seriously, what were the CHANCES), some names of his favorite musicians and actors she hadn’t paid much mind before, and other such. Her days at the bank, times she called other friends, vacations away? Those didn’t change.

 

Seriously, that Imp creeped her out.

 

Her stop finally came, and she got off. Still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Like… being paid attention to. She was used to being noticed, but then getting treated like an NPC. A bit of background, as much as the color of the wall behind her. The redheaded ornithologist got off with her, though the other college kids kept going. Maybe they were headed to the beach? Or the ferry? No way to know.

 

Brittany, wearing red hair for the first time in two years and thankful her Class Abilities still worked, breathed a carefully-concealed sigh of relief. It would probably take the others several stops to realize that the blue image in the corner of their eyes was not their quarry. That would be enough. Now to peel off before her bestie recognized her.

 

Back at the university, Justin was trying to stay calm as he tracked down an urban legend. As soon as Abbey had left the room, he realized he had perhaps an hour and a half of time before he, too, had to get ready to go. Without his muse there, the portfolio work was slow… but he had other tasks. Packing his backpack with what homework and study materials he could do during breaks at work was a quick thing. At least, it was as long as he didn’t think too hard about it.

 

No, the hard task was what he was now doing. Whispered rumors this past year spoke of a man, a student here, of a particularly rare Race. An immigrant from Ireland by the name of Robert, who had all kinds of accommodations for secrecy. One who would understand Abbey’s plight unfortunately well. A Leprechaun.

 

The problem of course being that catching a Leprechaun had certain meanings in the grand scheme of things. The legends varied wildly over what it resulted in, but all agreed that it forced them to do you favors of some kind. The legends also varied wildly on what you had to do in the first place. Find their pot of gold? Capture them in body? Save their life? Any or none of the above?

 

Justin’s feet carried him around the campus quad. This wasn’t the biggest place, and there were a lot of locations within easy commute (not to mention ever-expanding remote options), but finding Robert was important. 

 

So. Leprechaun. Small, probably with green clothing, and a serious aversion to crowds. Irish immigrant, might be signs of country pride. First step will be to verify the guy exists.

 

Computer Lab would be the place for this. He needed some speed, and the laptop in his room was not exactly optimized. From the lab, public records could be accessed. The school had more than seventy Roberts enrolled… three of which had Irish last names and only one of those three without a Race listed.

 

Laws being laws, the school couldn’t lie about Race data without someone losing their job, so if the rumored accommodations were true all they could do was omit. Looked like a good candidate. Then again, given that there was no location data due to student privacy being a thing, it wasn’t all that much of a step forward.

 

A sudden flash of inspiration. A dead sprint back to his room, where he printed out one of that morning’s artistic pieces. A hastily-written letter to go with it. “I want to understand. Can you help me?” Add some contact information, and pray to whichever deity, patron, or other power might be listening that this could work. Addressing the envelope was… incomplete at best. Thing is? Even when his family wrote his own information wrong, the campus would get his mail to him. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that.

 

A much slower, and thankfully much shorter, jog to the nearest mailbox. Fitness was still slow in coming, after all, and 48 hours of treating his body well was not nearly enough to make up for things. The box was on campus, so campus mail should theoretically handle it. They, in turn, theoretically knew where Robert was in some way. He’d need to be able to get his own mail after all.

 

And Robert? Well, hopefully he’d be either curious or compassionate enough to overcome any paranoia he might be feeling. 

 

Twenty minutes until his bus arrived, and Justin was majorly sweaty. Couldn’t go to work smelling like this. Quick shower, change of clothes, and he got to the bus stop BARELY on time. Good thing, too, the next one would be in a half hour and that would certainly get him into its own brand of trouble for tardiness.

 

Almost didn’t manage to get onto it before it pulled off, anyway. A ton of people, including Tim and some sorority girls, were getting off and looking irritated. Wonder what that’s about? Jennifer never leaves campus on a party day unless she has to.

 

The ride itself was quiet, thankfully. It let him catch a breather. Drink some water. Apologize to his heart rate for his attempts at running.

 

Work was work. Just enough time to put on his apron and name tag, high five Curtis and Will, and get on station before the lunch rush hit and the groove of mixing up a million combinations of orders took over. His breaks were, for the moment, filled with reading about dystopian Britain while sipping on a fruit tea instead of his previous espresso. Yes, his coworkers noticed. No, none of them asked.

 

A couple of blocks away, Abbey was also in uniform. Also wearing the right face, having taken the trip there thinking about her boyfriend and thus in girlfriend form. Although certain of her coworkers were appreciative, she didn’t want to give the wrong impression. The form wasn’t meant for them. The issue, though, was that this meant that what she was wearing was now not quite fitting right. Meant for someone shorter and curvier. Her mana pool wasn’t exactly what one could call “healthy” at the moment, so all she could manage was to at least make it all hang relatively straight until she could make the threads constrict themselves by force of will. Hopefully, nobody would notice.

 

Brittany did, but that was a special case. 

 

The little bluejay named Abbey was scurrying too and fro in the bank lobby. Much as their boss was the subject of slavedriver jokes all the time, Brittany knew he would not have called her on her one day off unless it was an emergency. She was probably manning the Coinage desk solo when it was normally two to three folks. Even though it wasn’t a payday weekend, it meant her line was getting pretty significant. Brittany could see it getting longer, too, through the visual sensor she had managed to plant there. The bank might be warded against such things, but she literally belonged. The enchantments on its walls actually reinforced her ability, making her upkeep costs negligible. Heck, if nothing else caused a drain, it would stay up there all week. Or, at least, until she dismissed it, but why would she do that?

 

“Um, who are you, and why are you staring at the bank?”

 

Brittany snapped out of her focus, bringing her eyes back to herself. Once more, she was sitting cross-legged on a rooftop across the street from her target. This time, from the roof of a fast food place that served up good shakes. “Hi, I’m…” her mind raced for a cover story, “I’m Sarah. You can’t see it from here, but I’m watching local avians for a study at the university. An unusual one was perched there. And you are?”

 

“Bryce. I work here. How did you even get up here?”

 

Oh. Right. Easy to forget sometimes. This rooftop was not supposed to be public access, and neither “works at the bank across the street” nor “ornithology student” moved her out of the public category. Play dumb? Looked like it was the only out. She hated this part. So, so much. With a slightly broader grin than she liked to wear, she covered her mouth with her hand and forced out the most vapid giggle she could perform. The act of letting it past her lips almost physically wounded her. “Oh! Oops! There was a ladder at the back, so I climbed on up! I didn’t know this was a private rooftop.”

 

Bryce, for his part, was not amused. The ladder in question was not the fire escape and did not belong to the building, and in fact was how he knew to come up here to check on the roof. If this woman wasn’t the one who put it there (and she didn’t seem the type), that meant it could be almost anyone. “I’m gonna need you to go back down, ma’am. Can’t have you up here.”

 

Brittany kept the vapid smile on her lips as she internally cursed her luck. Her spying would have to wait for another day, it seemed. “I am so sorry! Later!” She made her way over the uneven rooftop to the ladder which she had good and well put there, and climbed down. While she was at it, she grabbed a shake while chewing on the information (and a burger). No sense missing lunch.

 

The tiny bell over the door softly jingled, and a familiar blue face walked in. Brittany hunched down a bit at her table, realizing that enough time had passed that the bank’s rush was done. Abbey looked a bit tired, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Another oddity. Normally she’d be frazzled by the pressure of that kind of line, chugging something caffeinated like her life depended on it. Now she got a small meal and a tea? She didn’t even need to eat, but this looked like she was doing it to have an excuse for a break.

 

Brittany listened as Abbey typed out a long-ish message on her phone, but without being able to see and with her sensor in a different building, she couldn’t figure out what was being sent. Frustrating. Perhaps it was time to head over for some coffee. She stood, casually walking out after throwing away her trash. No sense being rude about it, no matter how frustrated she was. After all, the shakes were really that good, and the folks working here were people too. 

 

A couple of blocks away at the BuckStar, Justin’s coworkers were having a heck of a time trying to keep up. Normally, they had a kind of rhythm to things. Someone would take an order, that person would cycle back to the prep counters to get going on it, and the next staffer with empty hands would get to the register. Rinse, repeat, as everyone traveled in circles around the area from station to station. It worked, it’s what they had worked out a while back and integrated people into.

 

Not today. Justin was in the zone, and refused to leave it. The doubled shift that stacked up for lunch rush worked normally for the first 30 minutes, until he took his first break. Might have been something in that book he was reading, but when he got back to the line he took one order and proceeded to shift into the prep area. The normal speed he did things there seemed amped up beyond what even he normally was capable of, and when Curtis took the next order he turned around to find it halfway assembled already. There was enough time for one snarky remark before he realized that this was something he could take advantage of.

 

Some quick adaptation, and the routine changed a bit. Curtis and Will manned the register and final stations respectively, and both had to go as fast as they could to keep up with what was supposed to be the slowest part of the process. When Brittany looked into the place, she thought they’d had an unusually slow day… and then started counting people as they approached. The line was staying no more than two people deep through the craziest part of the day. One during which she had learned to not go to this place, since it would make her late getting back to the bank. 

 

That was not normal.

 

So. Justin Majors. Not a registered Delver, kind of out of shape, not in any honor societies… but somehow able to make a dorm room resist magic and whip up drinks that would make seasoned Alchemists stutter faster than they can be rung up? That last one required three blenders and four different pumps, for crying out loud! Looks like it’s finally coming down, though.

 

Her stakeout there continued through the afternoon shift. It was also thankfully one she could supplement by going through the line once. For recon, of course. And for a pumpkin spice, now that Abbey wasn’t there to see her get it. It would continue until the sun set, when the afternoon shift workers left, before she got another interesting tidbit. In walked a short man, with a fiery red beard and a green jacket. One who she had never seen before, and who defied easy categorization. One who seemed to match descriptions of a certain nigh-mythical Race of wishmasters. She still couldn’t hear the speech, and the bank wasn’t letting go of her sensor, but she could see a sheet of paper clutched in his hand. One that depicted a sleeping woman in blue. 

 

Abbey. This man made a deal with a LEPRECHAUN to steal her bestie? Oh, this would not stand. She definitely needed more information, but there was no way Brittany could get close enough to get it without revealing herself. She’d have to wait and watch from here.

 

Inside the BuckStar, Justin was halfway through calling out a standard greeting before he realized who… or what… was standing on the other side of the counter. A voice with a distinct Irish lilt to it came with a chuckle. “Seems like ye’ve been looking fer me. Must say that ye’ve a unique way about it.”

 

“Uh. Robert, I guess? If you’re here, it means you got my message. Guess you want to talk?”

 

“Got me curious. Most who try this are askin’ fer favors, or tryin’ ta catch me with me guard down. I’ll warn ye, don’t try to cross me. Ye cannae know how bad it will be for ye.”

 

“None of that! Um. Can I get you something?”

 

“Sure. Vanilla whip and a cookie?”

 

“On it. So. Um. My girlfriend is the one in the picture I sent. I needed some advice.” Justin turned briefly, in order to pour some ingredients. “Do you recognize her?”

 

“Nay, but I know of her kind. One helped me when I needed it.”

 

“Then you know what I’m about to say. I need help. I want to keep her safe, but my first wish did a lot I didn’t expect it to. I mean, I didn’t even know I was making one when I did it.. I don’t want that to happen. Your magic might not be the same, but it’s of a kind. Please, teach me. Tell me what I need to know to make sure that I don’t accidentally hurt her, or worse.”

 

“‘Tis not a small thing ye ask of me. That knowledge is kept secret, and for good reason. I need to ask ye one thing before I can teach it. Answer it true, or every bane I have will be upon ye.”

 

“Anything, sir!”

 

The Leprechaun stared at Justin with an unnerving intensity. “Do ye love this girl?”