Chapter 11 - To the Rescue
Freedom. That was the only word that adequately describes the pure exhilaration of unassisted flight. After his rocky start, George was doubtful he'd be able to maintain his falcon body for long. He'd go slow and steady, take breaks, and check his phone to ensure he was on track. But George forgot all about that after a few minutes of soaring like a fighter jet. The rushing wind had its own invisible topography, and his highly evolved senses of touch and sight allowed him to navigate this new frontier like it was his backyard. Updrafts, downdrafts, and crosswinds felt as familiar as a stroll down the sidewalk. And before long, he'd forgotten his misgivings and allowed himself to enjoy that freedom. Like countless other outcasts, turning into a bird and flying away was a fantasy he'd often indulged in. Now, he was living that dream, and it was better than anyone could have ever imagined.
The Genie flitted around him, rolling and diving. Her feathers, shiny and colorful and trailing sparkles, reminded George of the mythological phoenix, renewing his world with her warmth and light. Her power and majesty left him in awe once more. What kind of tales would she have inspired if she lived in ancient times, he wondered. Indeed, perhaps they were forging a new legend, zooming over that countryside toward an uncertain destiny. It was a silly, melodramatic thought, but it made him happy. He'd always feared a future trapped in a prison of pain and misery. But not with her. With her, he was finally free.
"Master, look!" she shouted as she changed course.
He dived after her, and though they were extremely high up, his eagle-eyed form could see incredible detail at a distance. A vast shimmering dome stood isolated deep in the autumnal forest at the edge of civilization. It was mostly transparent and held within it a piece of the world like an enormous snow globe. Its gnarly dead trees stood in stark contrast to the lively red and yellow leaves of the healthy ones around it. In the middle was a large, rectangular, three-story building with a curved roof.
"That's it, I can feel it!" cried the Genie over the rushing wind. "Or... rather, I can't feel it! It's like a magical dead zone! I can't sense anything inside it! If we weren't attuned, we probably wouldn't be able to see it at all!"
"The perfect place to hide from someone like you! Let's get down there!"
The pair swooped lower and lower until they were close enough to take in the full scope of the place. The dome was several acres across and tall enough to fit the entire Stafford Regional football stadium with plenty of room to spare. Nearby were the remains of several other buildings that had long since crumbled into their foundations and been reclaimed by the forest. There was only a single dirt lane winding from the nearest state road for vehicle access, which led to a small parking area at the front of the building.
In its center stood the Filmore. In stark contrast to the ruins nearby, the structure seemed modern and well cared for. It was a monument to a longstanding legacy of extracurricular dominance, built of red bricks with a facade of gray columns and covered in purple dragon iconography. Near the front entrance was a convoy of trucks filled with what appeared to be alcohol and other party supplies, and several sturdy-looking men dressed in black trousers and t-shirts were busy unloading them. Some were smoking and drinking while they worked. George felt the Filmore was a cross between a basketball arena, a church, and a frat house.
Genie landed in a tree a fair distance away from the dome that gave her a clear line of sight to the front entrance, and George took a branch just below hers. "It's incredible," said Genie. "Ever since I awoke, I've felt this suspicious lack of magical... anything. It's like all the juice was sucked out of the world. But maybe... maybe it's just being hidden... hoarded."
George conjured memories of watching members of the Tabletop Club play card games at lunchtime. "I can confirm that aside from myths, legends, conspiracy theories, and gaming conventions, magic is rarely talked about."
"No, this is the real deal. Those bracers were simple. Persistent but simple. But... this is heavy stuff. It's definitely not natural, so someone with the power and knowledge must have created this for a reason."
"So...they're what? Enchanted?"
"Mmmhmm. I'd have to look at 'em more closely, but they seem like a simple performance enhancer. You know, just a bump in strength and speed when they need it. Probably makes them a little tougher, too. Nothing like I can do for you, of course. It's kinda cute, really."
George was hit with a sudden realization that completely obliterated the last vestiges of school spirit he might have been harboring. "Holy crap... they're cheating."
"Oh," the Genie said as she realized it too. "Yeah, now that you mention it, wearing enchanted equipment for a sports game is probably not common practice. I mean, I haven't seen much magic anywhere else." She shook out the feathers on her neck. "I have a bad feeling about this, Master."
With the Genie on edge, so did George. Indeed, it was the most serious he'd seen her since she first arrived and saved him from the curse. He pointed a wing toward the dome and asked, "What is that thing?"
"It's a shroud. It's preventing anything magical from going in or out and keeps the area hidden from those unattuned. I bet the bracers also act as keys to let the dragons come and go. Look, they're all wearing them."
George could see them, too. There were five young men, all powerfully built, lifting what looked like 15-gallon kegs of beer over their heads with ease. He couldn't tell if they were full, but the goons weren't struggling. But upon closer inspection, George recognized one of them by his spikey black hair and hooked nose. He was a vicious guy named Rocko, who'd consistently tormented George until he graduated several years prior. George examined them more closely and realized he recognized a few others too, not from the current team roster but from years past.
"They're all former football players," he said. "This must be what Lacy talked about when she mentioned a fraternity. You're in for life once Veiss hooks you in, gives you a bracer, and gets you involved in the club."
The Genie finished his thought. "And I bet he threatens to take the bracer away if you don't fall in line."
"Or blackmails you, or worse... dead in a ditch. And Piper is in there somewhere. She has to be, or..." He let out a quiet, mournful call. "Damnit, what do they want with her?" he asked rhetorically.
"Master, can we move closer? I need to take a look at this shroud."
"Sure. Let's find a place to change back."
They took off and circled around the shroud a few times before they found a spot out of sight on the western side of the translucent dome. The world seemed to shrink slightly as the Genie turned him back to his familiar human form and appeared beside him once more. Her beauty kept surprising him, and he couldn't help but appraise her with awe and adoration.
But the Genie was too focused to notice. She approached the shroud and said, "Okay, let's see what we have." Then, she reached out to touch its surface with her palm. The shroud reacted, instantly hardening and releasing a slight jolt, forcing her to yank her hand back. "Mother fuck... " she growled.
George was about to console her when his phone rang. Hastily, he searched his pockets for the device, giving it time to let out several loud loops of its jingle before he found it. Then he answered without checking who it was, just to silence it. "Hello?"
"Hey! There you are! Finally! Why aren't you answering your phone, dumbass?"
He hadn't thought about it until then, but where had the Genie put his phone while he was soaring as falcon George? "Sorry, Lizzie, I was... traveling. Couldn't pick up."
"Oh... well, don't text and drive, I guess. Anyway, do you want to hear what I found out?" she asked with tantalizing glee. George looked over at Genie, who was busy testing the shroud for weaknesses and cursing as the magical barrier continued to vex her. He was glad that at least one of them was having fun.
"Yes, please. I'm listening," he replied.
"Awesome! So, Manticore. They've been around for twenty-seven years, and aside from having a totally badass name, they seem pretty normal. Officially, they do event security and private protection. Ya know, bodyguards and stuff."
"Doesn't seem too outlandish."
"Oh, I've barely even started. I've been giving myself a crash course in the protection industry while I waited for you to pick up. It's pretty common for companies like this to have lots of pending lawsuits because their job is to get in people's way, and sometimes those people get hurt. But not Manticore. Squeaky clean."
"Isn't that a good thing?" said George as he watched the Genie kick the dome in frustration, making it shimmer faintly.
"Sure, but if you ask me, that just screams cover-up. And it isn't as though there haven't been incidents. It's just that nothing ever comes of it. Anyway, twelve years ago, it was bought by another company. Chroma Corp."
"The fusion guys?"
She laughed. "Yeah, them. But that's just their latest endeavor; they have claws in everything from restaurants to military contracts. Manticore is just their private security branch. And here is the best part. You ready?"
"I'm sitting down," he quipped.
"Yeah, hold onto your butt. Manticore's leadership and most of its employees are Stafford Regional alumni."
George wondered if what he saw was just a coincidence. "Football players?"
"Yep, how'd you know?"
"Uh, my source mentioned one of them," he lied, not wishing to give away too much just yet.
Lizzie huffed. "Right. Your super secret source. You're correct, though. I had my AI do some cross-referencing, looking for connections. All of them were students at Stafford and on the football team. And all were players whose careers went south fast, either from injury or some other drama."
"What kind of drama?"
"Oh, the yuge. Domestic abuse, assault, drug use. Nothing too crazy, but none of it good."
George mused, "It's like... some kind of retirement gig for washed-up athletes." After examining the Filmore and seeing the cadre of brutes moving about the place, George knew that his suspicions were correct and Lacy was telling the truth. But he couldn't get Lizzie involved any further than this. "Well, I just pulled up, and no one is here. The place looks abandoned."
"Wait, are you serious? It can't be!" she spat as she mulled over her data again. "You aren't fucking with me, are you?"
"No! I swear, I'm not!"
"Prove it. Turn on your camera and show me."
He panicked briefly but remembered that Lizzie probably wouldn't be able to see through the shroud anyway. He turned on his camera and held it up, aiming it at the building. Through his phone, George couldn't see the shroud or the Filmore inside it. There were only old burnt-out buildings being slowly devoured by vegetation.
"Damn," she muttered. "Sorry, George, I really thought we had it." He could hear her getting more emotional, and the defeat was evident in her voice. "What do we do now?"
George hated lying to her like that, but it was the only way he could think of to keep her from doing something dangerous. "Just... look after her mom for now, alright. She's gonna need support. I'll check back with you when I get home."
"Yeah," she whispered. "I'm sorry I... I really thought..." and she began quietly sobbing.
