Ephemeral

[Wesley Evans]

Frantic whispers dulled down to an even less audible whimper as the sound of shuffled feet and wood grew closer.  The whispers came from three of the lowest ranked magi Wesley could find; the only ARMA members he could get away with convincing to do his bidding.  Two weeks after the explosion that took his brother's life and the incident that left him with a punctured abdomen and several broken ribs, Wesley still felt as though he wasn't 100% despite the efforts of the medical team at HQ's disposal.  Mended bones and flesh didn't take as long as it could have without mystical means, but he still felt pain as he walked.

 

Against the wishes of the healers and higher ranked officials he checked himself out of the med-ward early and, with the aid of a wooden cane and a hampered gait, set off to investigate the bombing site on his own.  Of course the others investigated the rubble long before his recovery and were understanding enough that they allowed Wes to review their findings afterwards, but it wasn't enough to dissuade him.  He needed to find out for himself.

 

So he searched.  The first day he did so on his own; just a shovel and his bare hands.  The next day he "liberated" one of the necromancy specialists from their station to try to sense out where his brother's corpse may lie, but to no avail.  So he brought more, even going as far as to bring some of his brother's belongings to grant a better understanding of his soul... to aid in feeling him out... and still nothing.  Today was no different.  No one could find a body, yet no one could find proof of his death in the form of residual mana imprinted on the surroundings from the passing of his soul; like a ghast or a ghost.  Something that could be considered concrete proof of his death in the absence of an actual body. 

 

Leaning on his cane Wesley pivoted back to look over the concerned comrades he'd convinced to follow him again.  Days ago they all felt obligated to help in order to ease Wesley's suffering, but now their concern was for his mental state.  He had to come to terms with his brother's death eventually, and the sooner the better.  But if he wanted his investigation to continue, he had to convince them that he was okay, lest they interfere.  "Okay.  That's enough.  Thanks for all your help but... I can finally accept that he's gone."

 

They looked back at each other for a moment, curious as to whether they should heed his words before eventually walking back to the van that they all rode in to the site.  Wesley followed.   The ride was a slow and quiet one as no one wanted to cause an emotional outbreak from Wesley.

 

Hours later in the library Wesley turned in the texts he borrowed on dowsing, zombification, necromancy, and séance before heading back home.  Before exiting the building a notification on his phone notified him of an email, which he hurried to read.  It was again higher ranked officials turning down his request for access to more classified texts on forbidden spells, the fourth time in 4 days.  The only way he would acquire access to info of the sort he was looking for was if he could personally persuade a higher ranked official to look the other way or better yet, provide him the resources he was looking for by using their own clearance.

 

So the next day he made his way back to the fallen casino sight alone, and left Alec a voice message requesting his presence.  Speaking to him at the scene of the crime would no doubt have more of an effect than in a crowded, camera-watched ARMA HQ.  The message was short and sweet as not to seem too emotionally charged.  It read: 

 

"Important info concerning investigation.  Waiting at casino bombing site."

 

He hoped that he would come alone, but couldn't ask him to without tipping him off.  And he couldn't call him, lest his friend hear the concern in his voice.  So he awaited his response to the text, his stomach turning with each passing second. 

 

 

[Alec Walker]

How many weeks? Two weeks since Alec had been told his best friend was in the hospital... and now Wesley was walking around again, poking around in various files and fields. 

 

Sam had been out to visit the casino's site twice in the last two days, helping Wesley dig through the wreckage. Unfortunately, Alec hadn't made it out to the site yet since the incident. Something of this magnitude meant lots of investigation...and even more paperwork. 

 

To make matters worse, Wesley was stepping into territory with cause for concern. He was in Knight, and still just a lieutenant... files were level-restricted for a reason, and it was rare for anyone outside of Cloak or Tower to need access to forbidden spellbooks or anything of that sort. 

 

[walker] Goddamnit, Wes. [/walker] Alec pinched the bridge of his nose, eyelids shutting for a moment. Silent curses flowed from his brain.

 

 

Waiting at Casino Bombing Site.

 

[walker] Oh for fuck's sake... [/walker] 

 

 

On my way.

 

This could only end poorly, as far as Alec was concerned.

 

 

I'm going to meet with Wes at the old casino site.

A quick text to Cass, just to keep her in the loop, and Alec was out the door, seersucker jacket lifted from his chair and thrown over his shoulder.

 

Alec would arrive at the Casino shortly thereafter. [walker] Wes, what can I do for ya? And please don't tell me you need access. You know I can't do that. [/walker]

[Wesley Evans]

A lone coin-like, coarse piece of metal hovered in the air before Wesley's face, oscillating from front to back slowly as he held a hand beneath it.  As he did, he reminisced.  The sound of children's laughter echoed in the far reaches of Wesley's mind; memories of a time when he and Kyle enjoyed each other's company.  If his brother was there he would never admit to it, but he remembered those times as well.  Especially what the medal meant to them both.

 

Wesley's eyes jerked to the corner in the direction of Alec's voice before his head turned in kind.  He looked to his friend with a blank expression, hand clenched tightly onto the handle of his walking cane as he painfully pivoted to face him; drawing in a breath as if to imply he was annoyed, having to repeat what he had been saying multiple times already.  "I need access."  he deadpanned.  The avenging magi had no reason to dance around the question with such a close friend, so he didn't.  Still, he had to treat it with at least a modicum of believable remorse.  If it seemed like he cared about the rules he was breaking he wouldn't seem like such a rebel and the others would be more open to helping.  He hoped.

 

"Look. Getting me access isn't the thing you want to avoid.  It's getting caught doing it."  Wes reasoned.  It was a bold statement, though the shocker wasn't that he could speak so boldly about breaking the rules.  It was the lack of concern for his friend's position, and the predicament he was attempting to place him in.  Yet and still, this was a matter of family, and he didn't expect he would need to explain it Alec.  Even with what he knew of Wesley and Kyle's relationship before his disappearance from Wesley's own admittance. 

 

"It's not like the investigation is over.  It's not... it's not like you don't have guys flipping through dossiers on the people who normally come to that casino to see who may have had dangerous enemies out to get them, or to find out if it was a hate crime or arson... we've probably got telepaths on call to see who might be hiding the truth amongst the eye witnesses.  We're exhausting all the resources we've got to get to the bottom of this... so exhaust them all.  We're ARMA.  Who else has the authority to use the especially hax mystical resources if we don't?" rationalized the frantic mage.  It was mirrored in his mana signature. A sensing cantrip would've notified magi around him that it was un-mistakenly Wesley's mana signature... but different.  Erratic.   

 

The medal, now spinning rapidly stopped and fell to the ground where Wesley mistakenly attempted to kneel to pick it up, causing a sharp pain in his side which was accompanied by an audible groan.  He held his breath and tried again, using his ferro-kinesis to lift it up to his palm where he caught it with haste and than placed it back into his pocket. 

 

Upright, Wesley cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and then released it.  "I'm not trying to have a zombie brother.  I don't need roots from the actual Tree of Life, or coordinates to the underworld to wrest his soul from Mephisto.  It's just... If he's d... if he's gone, then there'd be proof.  Spiritual, mystical... an impression of his soul.  Especially if he fuckin' burned to death in a violent explosion.  Necromancers could contact him.  All ours are, for lack of a better word, amateurish at best.  It was sad, really." 

 

Of course, Full Metal didn't know that for sure.  He did however know that he could only rely on help from the amateurish necros as they were the only one's stupid enough to agree with what he was attempting.  Any one amongst his peers who could actually pin-point a soul and directly contact it within ARMA was not willing to break protocol for Wesley's sake.  "So there's gotta be an artifact that I can borrow just long enough to find him.  A way to lock in on his consciousness if he's alive; lock in on his location.  Or info on someone outside of ARMA who can do the things we're apparently too bitch-made to try like honest-to-goodness revival or reincarnation.  A boss level necromancer... maybe even a summoner.  Ghosts count as familiars right?"

 

Wesley began listing off avenues they could pursue, hoping he could convince his friend to throw caution to the wind and join him on a mission that was likely to get them both ex-communicated if not worse. 

[Alec Walker]

And there they were. That three word mantra Wesley had drilled into his own head. Access wasn't what the mage needed. He needed closure.

 

[Walker]I'm the guy who does the catching anyway, Wes. You can't keep putting me in this position.[/walker] Alec swallowed air, the sound loud in the New York City street. [Walker] Officially, you're supposed to be under six types of surveillance right now. Unofficially, I haven't reported this, and I can't help you. [/Walker]

 

Wes was right about the dossiers. Alec had been dealing with them himself for a while until the other magi were ready to help. [Walker] Your brother is an unconfirmed factor. Our necromancers who actually know what they're doing half the time didn't find his soul, and the morgue hasn't located anyone with his dental records. You know there are only a handful of people with access to files above my pay grade, and some of them owe me favors. I cashed in a few and still got the same info. [/walker]

 

Alec reached out to put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. He'd lost family in the event, but so had everyone else. It wasn't the same kind of loss. This was visceral, painful.

 

[Walker] I know it's tough. Try and find another place to focus this energy, Wes. Who knows? You might find him again one day. Bet he comes back like a badass from some deserted island.[/Walker] It was a pathetic smile. Alec didn't really believe what he was saying.

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley listened to his friend's explanation (or at least pretended to) as to why he wouldn't be continuing on in aiding him.  He wouldn't accept failure however.  He couldn't.  He would push as far as he could and had to believe that their friendship was strong enough to survive the strain.  If it wasn't... then the young mage would have to find comfort in the fact that the safe return of his brother was more important.  A truth that he was positive Alec could understand.  Now, if Wesley could just sweet talk him into trying a bit harder-

 

"I shouldn't have to put you into this situation.  The fact that I do is a disappointment already."

 

Wesley stopped speaking and bit his bottom lip before quickly glancing to Alec's face to take in his reaction to his slip.  His tongue lapped at the bottom lip he'd previously bit, resulting in a wince.  Familiar taste.  The taste in his mouth was unmistakeably that of his own foot.  "I'm sorry."

 

Wesley remained quiet and averted his gaze as Alec continued.  It seemed whatever he was going to do would have to be on his own now that Alec had exhausted his resources for Wesley's sake.  No more calling in favors that were owed to him.  Perhaps Wesley himself could garner the same kind of loyalty.  Cash in some of the good will he'd earned via his experience with ARMA thus far.  This was one of the few times his anti-social nature would prove to be his undoing, as he didn't have the social standing that many of the other members did with each other.  He didn't take part in water cooler conversations.  He didn't participate in any of the morale boosting exercises within his division, let alone throughout all of ARMA.  No karaoke nights.  No bar crawls.  No inter-workplace relationships (much to his own dismay).  Not even the odd elevator ride conversation.  Wesley was essentially a ghost to anyone but those he'd actually worked with out of obligation... or those Alec introduced him to with the intent of broadening his horizons.  

 

So about five people.  Wesley knew five other members of ARMA on a first name basis, whom he'd actually talked to more than once or twice.

 

Seemed he couldn't afford to burn the few bridges he had built just yet.

 

Alec attempted to lighten the mood with jokes of a badass return from Wesley's brother, but the ferromancer was in no laughing mood.  Still, he accepted the attempt and offered a sigh rather than more obstinate groaning.  "It's times like these that I regret the fact that I don't drink.  You know what?  Let's fix that."  Wesley punched Alec's shoulder playfully before pivoting on his left foot and clumsily re-aligning himself with his cane.  He started his walk to Alec's car rather than trying to guilt trip his friend into breaking more rules on his behalf.  There was after all, more opportunities for that later.  Especially if he could get a few drinks in him.

 

"Come on.  We're gonna get shit-faced.  That's a hobby right?  A more constructive use of my time than bemoaning the untimely demise of my brother?  That's the alpha thing to do?  Rub some dirt in that wound and get back to work, right?  Yeah, let's do that."  The condescending tone was underminded by Wesley speaking under his breath, and also the sound of his cane scraping against pavement making most of his bitching inaudible.  

[Alec Walker]

"I shouldn't have to put you into this situation.  The fact that I do is a disappointment already."

 

A Scowl. Wes glanced down, licking his lip. Alec stayed stoic. 

 

[walker] Don't... [/walker] Alec reprimanded as Wes apologized. [walker] Don't do the whole sad puppy thing. You know you fucked up, I know you fucked up, and we're both standing around here long enough.[/walker] Alec chuckled. [walker] Let's stop blocking traffic.[/walker]

 

Wes wanted to go drinking. 

 

[walker] So what unlikely transdimensional portal did I step through where Wesley Motherfucking Evans actualy wants to consume alcohol? [/walker] 

 

Cane clicked on pavement. Wes wasn't used to moving with it. [walker] Porque no los dos? I see no reason we can't get shitfaced while bemoaning the disappearance of your brother. [/walker] Alec chose his words carefully. Who knew whether people without bodies in a morgue were actually dead? [walker] I was heading to the range after this, so it's up to you. Alcohol or Guns? [/walker] Alec smiled. [walker] You know... I always find myself wondering why you don't carry. BBs hit hard enough?[/walker]

[Wesley Evans]

Wes continued hobbling towards Alec's car paying no mind to his cohort until he mentioned the firing range.  He stopped and glanced over his shoulder before nodding.  "Yeah.  Fireing range is probably a better idea, thanks.  Can't remember the last time I shot a gun."  Alec may or may not have realized that Wesley was in a violent mood and opted for a release of aggression that wasn't going to get his friend arrested.  That was after all Wesley's true intention.  To troll bars like he had been hoping to do as he lay in his hospital bed; bars filled with anti-altered apologists and anyone that seemed like they might agree with the actions of the bomber responsible for the absence of his brother.  Listen in, glean any information he deemed useful, and if he was really lucky?  One of them would insult him.  Look at him cross-ways.  Imply that Wesley didn's care them.  Or that any freaks in that casino at the time got what the deserved.  

 

And he could correct them.

 

Of course, Wesley's brush with death had not stopped him from thinking the acquisition of super powers somehow made him the main character of an action drama.  Like he was gonna slip a 20 to a bartender and all of a sudden have a lead... or rough up some tattooed meathead for a lead... see a squirrely snitch run out the back door where his partner is waiting with a sucker punch... good cop/bad cop ensues.  Snitch squeals.  Lead is followed.  The culprit's caught before the final commercial break.  If only life was so simple.  Alec probably saved Wes' life just now.

 

"Really?  You never knew why I don't carry?  Why doesn't Superman carry?  Why doesn't Spider-Man?  They can pull off stuff infinitely cooler than just pointing and firing."  Wesley expected the very same argument he received in training when he asked the very amateurish question of why they had to carry guns on the field.  His real reasoning was a bit less childish and no less true.  "Well, there's a bit more to it than that.  I mean, think about it.    Guns are called equalizers for a reason.  In the wild west as long as you owned a gun you were on equal footing with any other asshole who decided he wanted to jack you for your spurs.  You close the gap that would've been there if you weren't packing.  It's pretty much the same nowadays.  Except I've got something that extends that gap further."  

 

A wave of the hand unlocked, and then opened the door to the car before Wes was in arm's reach.  Not hard to do when you can feel the inner workings of the locking mechanism thanks to it's metal innards, and then work them with your own mystical ability to control all things metal.  " So why not have a gun in addition to that extra thing that makes that gap larger?  Psychological warfare bro.  You walk up to someone carrying a gun, and even if you're carrying too, you still think deep down that it's a crap shoot.  It could go either way.  Fifty-fifty chance of victory.  But you walk up on someone not strapped and you're lured into a false sense of security.   You're convinced you're in control.  You're not questioning how many of your goons I've disarmed by liquefying their ammunition while you're reaching for your piece.  You're not stopping to sense if whether or not I'm activating my spells.  You're not considering me a genuine threat until after I've already won."

 

Made sense to Wesley in his head, but a bit less so after forming them into words and speaking them.  Practically speaking he could just carry a hidden firearm.  And magic runs dry almost as quickly as ammo did.  Whatever.  Magic was infinitely more cool than guns.  Even laser guns as far as Wesley was concerned.  Wesley sat in the passenger seat and tossed his cane in the back while waiting for Alec.

[Alec Walker]

Alec chuckled at Wes' comment, and watched his friend hobble along. [walker] Really? Rule of cool? [/walker] Alec scowled.

 

"Well, there's a bit more to it than that.  I mean, think about it.    Guns are called equalizers for a reason.  In the wild west as long as you owned a gun you were on equal footing with any other asshole who decided he wanted to jack you for your spurs.  You close the gap that would've been there if you weren't packing.  It's pretty much the same nowadays.  Except I've got something that extends that gap further."  

 

[walker] I can stop a man's heart as far out as a mile. I can convince an 800 pound gorilla to fight for me. I can rip someone's very soul away from them... make them a shell. [/walker] Alec glared. [walker] And yet I carry. You know why? Because sometimes it's not enough to fight with magic. Sometimes it's worth it to extra weight of a gun at your hip to discourage conflict so you don't have to beat the shit out of them. [/walker] 

 

Alec was not one to toy with magic-inflicted wounds. Sure, he'd make someone pay for screwing with his whiskey, but physically or mentally handicap them to a point of true injury? Not ok in his book... Weird morality, but it worked for him.

 

Alec stepped into the car, smiling at Wes' manipulation of the lock. [walker]Tell me you didn't just fuse that together... I'm never gonna be able to lock it again if you did that.[/walker] He started the engine of his 2008 Dodge Challenger, shifted into drive, and roared off down the road. 

 

[walker]I understand the element of surprise, but you might as well carry concealed if that's all you're concerned about. I'm one of the few idiots who still carries in a shoulder-holster. Works great until I take off a jacket. [/walker] Alec smirked and flicked the blinker light on, swerving cleanly into a street that ran uptown. The range he wanted to visit wasn't in ARMA HQ. He'd spent too much time there as it stood. It was good to vary a routine.

[Wesley Evans]

"Rule of cool, yes.  The only rule that matters."  Wesley said wryly, though obviously joking.  He expected Alec to recognize his joke and change the subject but miss a chance to lecture him?  Wesley's luck wasn't that good.  He listened to Alec tell him about holster options and the like before responding.    "Yeah, yeah, I know.  Sheesh."

 

When Alec got in and questioned if his car lock was destroyed by Wes' impatient flexing of his magical muscles, he simply shook his head.  "Remember, I don't just move metal, there's more finesse to it than that.  I knew the workings of the mechanism once I felt it out with my metal sensing abilities.  Plus I didn't liquify the odds and ends to make them move the way I wanted.  Just got an image of what parts were connected to what.  Felt my way around inside there with my mind and then wiggled it to see where tension was applied.  Then I unlocked it."

 

Wes thought back to his explanation and then immediately tried to clarify himself better.  "I guess, think of it like this: the metal becomes a part of me when it's got my mana flowing through it.  It's why I haven't wasted time learning legit spells when the metal doing what I want was as simple as me thinking: 'do that'!"

 

If there was one thing that distracted Wesley from being a whiny brat, it was an opportunity to inflict a monologue onto others about how awesome he was... because he was rarely more than the comic relief.  "Or... that was the old me.  Recently I've started learning.... things.  Remember when I asked you about other methods of spell enhancement?  Something more than mantras or runology?  I've been doing some side research with-"

 

The ferromancer almost forgot that the initial argument he and Alec was having when he first arrived was about Wes pushing for access to more resources that were outside of his access.  So admitting that he'd already bullshitted his way into acquiring some of them probably wouldn't go well with the mentalist.  Wes swallowed hard and cleared his throat, as he often did when nervous, and turned his attention to the road ahead.  

 

"...myself and... came up with nothin'.  So nevermind." 

[Alec Walker]

Alec just smiled and kept his eyes on the road as Wes explained what he'd done to the actual metal. [walker] You realize I know exactly how your spells work. Right? [/walker] 

 

Alec had been called upon by the approval board to comment on his friend's level of fitness for field duty, which meant he'd learned everything there was to know about how Wes' magic functioned, and how susceptible it was to mental instability.

 

 

[walker] Elementalists rarely have to learn many spells, anyway. Magic's more natural for you than it is for most mag---whoa!. [/walker] 

 

Alec slammed on the breaks as a pair of motorcycles whizzed in front of the car.

 

[walker] People couldn't drive nine years ago. They can't drive now. Fucking morons. [/walker]

 

Alec looked over as Wes cleared his throat. [walker] OK, OK.  You sure you don't want to tell me? [/walker]

 

The car sped out once more, making a fluid turn onto a cross-street. Alec chuckled. [walker] Goddamn I love that sound. The feel of the earth under the wheels. Don't you? [/walker] 

[Wesley Evans]

The ferromancer side-eyed his friend while rapping his fingers on his knee anxiously.  "Yeah, I know you know how my powers work.  Figured you must have forgotten since you thought I'd mangle your lock."  Wesley expected Alec to go off on a tangent about how long they'd known each other and how familiar the both of them were with the thing that unified them perhaps more so than comic book knowledge: their status as magi.  That it was an attempt at closing the gap that was forming between them with Wesley's dogged pursuit of vengeance.  Instead it turned out he wasn't speaking with nostalgia as a guide, but a file being used to check up on Wesley's viability as an asset.

 

...whatever.  he thought, as if attempting to convince himself he wasn't hurt by the lack of personal connection behind Alec's knowledge.  

 

As the car came to an abrupt stop, Wes glared at the bikes speeding ahead of them and, for the briefest of moments, contemplated liquefying the handlebars and watching the bikers fly off onto the road, peeling away skin along the road before coming to a stop.  A grin began forming along his face before he realised how horrible a thought he was having and it immediately regressed into a grimace.  Seemed his anger was getting the better of him and looking for any opportunity to spill forth.

 

Alec called out to Wesley knowing full well that something was on his mind, but didn't pry too hard, and Wesley didn't give a response due to the un-invasive questioning.  Just another glance back before looking out to the road ahead.  He let out a sigh and thought back to the light reading he had come across by checking through artifact acquisitions over the months.  As a knight often times he was just added protection for those less combat oriented magus sent out to slay monsters or collect odds and ends of mystical origin.  Thanks to being that close to those operatives heading the missions it wasn't hard to hear about a book or scroll that one might want to glance over, or an item that houses unnatural abilities within it.  It was impossible not to be tempted to flip through the book before taking it in to be processed, or testing out an artifact to see if the claims about it were valid.

 

Unfortunately, rules and regulations forbade doing exactly that, so admitting that Wesley had done exactly these things were bound to 

come with more annoyance from Alec, the kind that could get him in more hot water than he was already in.  So he didn't.  Partially out of respect for his friend.  Mostly because he was confident that he was about to make a breakthrough in the field of ferromancy, provided he kept at it, and he couldn't risk ruining that opportunity.

 

"So what do you carry again?"  he asked, feigning interestd in Alec's gun in order to change the subject of conversation.

[Alec Walker]

[walker] I'm sorry, Wes. Sometimes I forget I'm not actually funny. [/walker] Alec smiled and give his friend a light punch on the shoulder. [walker] Should I have them nuked from orbit? Pigeons are surprisingly precise. [/walker] 

 

Alec was thinking less about the implications of his role as a formal investigator for ARMA, and more about exactly how fucked up his relationship with his friends was. [walker] Listen... I'm really sorry, man. It's impossible to separate the job from the friendships. You know that, right? We're a ragtag band of idiots playing dress-up as a uniformed force... and for fuck's sakes I get given the ridiculous job of interrogating and investigating my closest friends. [/walker] 

 

Wes asked what he carried, and Alec kept one hand on the wheel while the other drew out the .44 he kept in a shoulder holster. [walker] Careful. It's still loaded. [/walker] He said, passing it to Wes. [walker] .44 Magnum. Whether they want to or not, my enemies are asking themselves if I've fired six shots... or only five. [/walker] Alec laughed.

 

[walker] Nasty round, that .44 magum. Puts holes in things I want holes in... Still wish I could get my hands on one of those laser revolvers... Remember those, from Stargate? What'd they call em... Particle magnums? [/walker] Alec was grinning broadly as his left thumb tapped on the steering wheel. The car roared down a straightaway.

 

Alec's right hand was busy deftly switching the car into fourth gear. [walker] You ever drive a stick shift? Pain in the ass at first, but these days, magic fucks up everything we love about technological advancement. Carry a wheelgun so you don't fuck up the inner workings on a Glock. Keep a shotgun so you don't magically break a $14,000 EOTech sight on a next-gen Israeli-made bullpup. [/walker] Alec grimaced... That had been a hard pill to swallow. 

 

[walker] So yeah... simpler car is better. [/walker]

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley clenched his right knee with his palm while studying the inside of Alec's car.  Hardly the first time he'd ever been in there, though he needed distraction.  Something to keep him preoccupied so that his mind didn't race.  Trace every thread stitched along the seats.  Memorize the textures that made up the interior.   Listen to the engine roar.  Drown out your friend who doesn't care enough about bringing to justice the monsters that attempted to kill your brother that he'd be willing to risk his job.  It wasn't like there were other occupations out there.  Especially with their skillsets they both would be godsends as mercenaries or PMC grunts.  That was likely a more lucrative business venture anyway.  And much less crippling moral hangups to prevent getting a job done efficiently.  Before Wesley could sink into another metaphorical quagmire of despair Alec drew his attention finally by bringing up his sidearm choice.

 

Wesley couldn't help but admire the artistry of the weapon.  He could appreciate how cool a gun looked, as well as the mastery required to create such a complex mechanism.  The history behind a gun that's stood the test of time, with the same design for decades with little deviation.  It shows the amount of thought and care placed into it's creation from the beginning.  Even if he couldn't appreciate that anyone could have access to such an easy way of ending someone's life.  The heft of it brought a smile to his face despite his greatest efforts and remaining a whiny child as if he could truly feel the power the gun held.  And Wesley knew of power.  He was a magus after all.  Add to that he had a new found appreciation for high-quality metalwork what with years of experience doing that himself.

 

"Wow..."  he muttered despite himself.

 

 Alec must have noticed Wes looking over the car before as he went on to ask him about his experience with cars stick shifts.  "Dude, I can't even drive automatics worth a damn, of course I can't drive a stick."  remarked Wes with a bit of a laugh behind it.  "And yeah, I'll consider packing.  I'm sure there's something out there I've got no problem carrying around.  Even if that's not the case it's not like it'd be too hard for me to spawn a gun with ambient metal."  Wes knew there was more to making a working gun than simply shaping it, and he knew there was more to making it fire than simply shaping bullets.  

 

He expected Alec to explain just in case anyway though.  And the more he kept him talking the less he'd be likely to return the conversation back to Wesley's secret activities.

[Alec Walker]

Alec let his hands maneuver the car down the side streets as he and Wes got closer to the range. 

 

Wes was appreciative of the pistol as both military art and militant tool. The moments of quiet were punctuated by "Wow..."

 

Alec chuckled. 

 

[walker] Hagane no Magus... and you're still impressed by a chunk of metal.[/walker]

 

He laughed, remembering the first few times he'd held that thing in his hands. [walker] Then again, there is something to be said about a solid machine that hasn't broken in all its years of service. [/walker] 

 

Wes replied to his question about stick shift. [walker] Right. I always forget you were basically 18 right when the sky shattered. [/walker] Alec had forgotten the driving age had been distinct from the age at which one gets their learner's permit. Some people he knew hadn't learned to drive until well into their 20s. 

 

Alec extended a hand to take the gun back if Wes was ready to relinquish it. [walker] There's a gun Ruger used to make called the GP100. It's basically a giant block of steel with some of the nicest handle scales and next to zero recoil. I really should get one of those... but they're all chambered in 9mm or .357 magnum and I can't figure out when I'd ever want to carry a less powerful cartridge. [/walker] 

 

[walker]Spawn...Spawn a gun? [/walker] Alec couldn't help but laugh. [walker] You got a bunch of ammo in your pocket too? [/walker] 

 

The car started to decelerate. [walker] Honestly, you just need gunpowder. You can cobble together the rest if you know what you're making... I'm not saying you have to carry a gun, but if you don't want to, you should learn every micrometer of spacing on whatever gun you're going to emulate in a crisis. [/walker]

 

A pause.

 

[walker] Think you could pull off a Barrett? [/walker] Alec was referring to the M82 Barrett sniper rifle, which was a marvel of modern engineering.

[Wesley Evans]

Wes bit his bottom lip to stifle another near laugh.  He'd have to remember that one.  Looking at Alec wouldn't bring one to the conclusion, but he was every bit the nerd that Wesley was.  He just had better social skills than Wes, which made his nerdiness not such an offputting personality trait.  That and the guy looked like a tanned lumberjack.  No one was calling this a guy a dork and getting away with it.  

 

"It's a very pretty chunk of metal though.  So..."

 

Time passed as they continued to their destination sans music.  The silence didn't help with the uncomfortable feelings wafting through the air.  It was palpable.   For Wes at least.  And it showed on face.  Perhaps Alec hadn't noticed thanks to having more important things to worry about at the moment.  Like, trying to not slam into oncoming traffic by keeping his eyes on the road.  He was taken aback by Wesley's claim about the ability to spawn weaponry as complex as firearms.

 

"I could if I had gunpowder, sure.  Provided I didn't just bring bullets."

 

He was basically just making assumptions based on his current skill level as Wesley actually had not reverse engineered many firearms in his training sessions let alone took the time to learn to create bullets.  Still he was confident it was just a matter of practice.  After all, his swordsmanship grew thanks to getting to understand several different types of blades and sword fighting styles, as well as creating them on his own from memory.  Synchronizing with metal and remembering it's dimensions wasn't that hard at all.  Guns were orders of magnitude far more difficult to get the measurements accurate on though, thanks to tons of odds and ends that were fine and detailed.  Regardless, practice made perfect.  Or as close to it as one could get.

 

"Whatever, I'll figure something out."

 

Mentioning the Barret brought another smile to Wesley's face, but for the wrong reason.  "Gatling gun arm?  Sure, why not?" 

[Alec Walker]

"It's a very pretty chunk of metal, though,  So..."

 

That it was. Wes was not lying.

 

"I could if I had gunpowder, sure.  Provided I didn't just bring bullets."

 

[walker] Mhm. [/walker] Alec grunted in acknowledgment. They'd passed the turn for the range about a minute back. Alec had been too focused on the road and not enough on the destination.

 

[walker] Shit. One sec. [/walker] The car decelerated, the back swinging first, pivoting on the front wheels. [walker] YES! And it didn't fucking flip! [/walker] Alec nearly yelled. He'd literally turned on a dime's worth of space. Foot slammed back down on the pedal and the car roared back to the entrance to the range. It was an outdoor facility, but there was a little building where they sold ammo, targets, and on occasion, small arms.

 

"Gatling gun arm?  Sure, why not?" 

 

Alec blinked as they pulled in and Wes made his comment. [walker] I mean, the Ma Deus is a powerhouse, but it's no gattling gun. Plus I could have sworn that was Browning, not Barrett. [/walker] He either didn't remember the thing Wes was referencing or just had never seen it.

 

[walker] I meant the .50 cal sniper everyone used to use in CoD. You know the one. Those things are naasty in real life. Recoil's better than you expect, cause of the moving barrel, but it'll still knock you on your ass if you aren't ready. [/walker] 

 

Alec turned off the car and stepped out. [walker] Well, we're here anyway. One sec. [/walker] 

 

He stepped around to the trunk of the car and pulled out the two gun-bags, one with his repeater and one with the mossberg shotgun. [walker] Don't think you've seen the repeater yet, have you? [/walker] Alec smiled, tossing one of the bags to his friend.

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley's heart rose up into his throat as Alec decided that it was a good idea to drive like the maniacs he'd just witnessed on the road a few miles back.  His right hand gripped white-knuckle tight on the door's handhold and his left hand rested on the console to brace for the shock of having his still injured side jostled around like he was in a rollercoaster.  Gritting his teeth and groaning out the turn, he glared over at Alec menacingly, but opted out of cursing him thanks to him being confident that his voice would come out as weak, and he was still showing an air of indignant obstinance.

 

"..."

 

Once they recovered he placed his right hand on his wound and favored it with soothing motions of the palm.  Alec may not have noticed, as he continued on with his explanation of guns and the like, but never actually came to the realization that Wesley was referencing Barret Wallace from the Final Fantasy VII video game.  This caused more discomfort for Wesley, for whatever reason, and caused him to turn and look out of the passenger side window at the goings-on outside.

 

Alec further explained, only grating on Wesley's nerves more, before he snapped back in retort "I know what a damn Barret is.  Christ." 

 

Wesley had no idea what a Barret was.  

 

As they arrived at their destination Alec's annoyance with Wesley's bitchiness was either non-existant, or easily overshadowed by his eagerness to show of this repeater that the ferromancer heard about all too often.  It seemed it was the latter as Alec's smile didn't recede.  On the contrary, it grew before he tossed a bag to Wesley, who left his walking stick in the back seat.  A stagger showed that his balance wasn't quite up to snuff yet, though he did catch the bag.  "No, I haven't seen the repeater yet.  But boy have I heard about it.  A lot  What's this, a shotgun?"

 

Wesley could tell by the heft of the gun and shape that it was indeed a shotgun, which caused him to question whether or not he could fire it in his condition.  They would both find out soon enough at least.

[Alec Walker]

Alec was taken aback by Wesley's snide reply. [walker] Well, shit... Sorry, man. [/walker]  He'd have said, before stepping out of the car.

 

[walker] Yep. Shotgun. [/walker] Alec had forgotten about Wes' need for a cane. [walker] Fuckin hell... I'm a dumbass, man. Sorry about that. [/walker] Alec took back the bag and handed Wes back his cane. [walker] We'll start off at the 50-yard range, then maybe move up to the 100-yard range, see if we can stretch the legs on this bad-boy. [/walker] Alec patted one of the bags as they walked towards the firing line.

 

[walker] I know you're still hurting over Kyle, man. I can pretend to imagine I know what you're feeling, but I get the feeling you'd smack me for that. [/walker] Alec said quietly. [walker] Listen, Wes...I really do want you to know I'm here for you. [/walker] The mage put a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

 

[walker] So anything I can do, outside of the shit I obviously can't do for you... let me know. [/walker] Alec was hopeful Wes would understand. Wes was, after all, the closest thing to a brother Alec had ever had, even if he considered all of ARMA family. Outside of betraying the trust of ARMA on the whole by breaking its bylaws, he'd do anything his brothers in arms needed, even if it wasn't what they wanted. 

 

[walker] Just a thought. Wouldn't titan mode, or at least a partial application, be less of a hassle than knocking around with that cane? I mean, the alternative to a cane is probably a leg brace, and that's basically what you'd be doing, albeit a bit more badass. Right? [/walker] 

 

[Wesley Evans]

Wesley fumed as Alec did his best to be a best friend.  To understand Wesley and console him without making things too saccharine or uncomfortable for either of them.   The older, undoubtedly wiser man spoke earnestly with Wesley, but it felt to him like he was being talked down to.  Like he didn't really understand.  If he did, he would do everything he could to help, right?  But he wasn't.  He was making excuses.  He hated it.  Still, the fact that he was no longer willing to risk career suicide to help meant that he could be turned against him.  Blowing up at him would not help.  Other than to ease the anger that Wesley was feeling, if only a bit.

 

So he bit his bottom lip literally and allowed whatever Alec was saying to enter into one ear and escape the other.  He didn't need ear service, but attempted to pretend that it was helping.  Even as Alec placed a hand on his shoulder, he closed his eyes and tensed up as if the warmth from his hand was some sort of fetid tentacle or scalding hot poker.  He winced away but immediately looked up to force the fakest of smiles.  He'd just blame it on his wound if he asked.  How he'd bullshit a tap on the shoulder sending a surge of pain to his abdomen was beside the point.

 

Alec asked if Wesley could needed help, and he opened his mouth to say something snippy, but slowly closed it and shook his head.  He expected it to have a better reaction than "go fuck yourself."

 

The only thing that got him to speak again was the mention of Titan Mode.  He'd forgotten that the only person that even knew about his stronger spells were Alec.  He'd have to keep his trump card under his sleeve though, as he didn't want more judging from people that were supposed to trust him.  Even if he was giving them reason to lose their trust in him.  "It's not my leg that hurts.  It's my side.  Every time I put weight on this side of my body I feel pressure on the stab wound that went through the left of my bellybutton.  Cane helps avoid doing that."

 

Wesley looked away before walking toward the entrance with his cane.  "Though now that you mention it... walking around isn't necessary now that I can do this..."  Wesley waved a hand toward a corner of the building that neither of them could see behind.  Wesley didn't need to see what was around the corner.   He could feel it.  Seconds after his hand outstretched a metal trashcan lid spun around said corner like a flying saucer before skidding to a stop in front of Wesley's feet on the hard concrete; the harsh sound causing a cringe.  

 

"You knew about me gradually getting better at metal manipulation, but I dunno if I ever told you how much better.  My max that I can levitate is about a thousand pounds now.  Ten times more than I weigh, which was my actual limit when I first came here if you remember."  He cleared his throat, feeling nostalgia creep in and cause a bit of a smile, but he'd be damned if he gave up on being a stubborn asshole.  Not until he got his way.  Wesley stood on top of the upside down trashcan lid and levitated it with no effort.  "And I know what you're thinking.  No Virgil jokes."

 

Wesley laughed, but sped forward toward the entrance to keep up appearances, even though Alec would have heard him.   

[Alec Walker]

Wes was pretty obviously still in intense pain, so Alec refrained from touching him after the hand on the shoulder. [walker]Ah, shit, man... That sucks. [/walker] Alec was about to go off on a tangent about the time he'd been stabbed in the shin, and how much of a bitch that wound had been before he knew about ARMA healers, but he stopped his self-centered rambling.

 

Wes didn't need to hear his bullshit anyway. He had enough depressing life events of his own to deal with. Then he started talking, and he seemed at least slightly less upset about the state of his life. 

 

Oh shit... that was a levitating trashcan lid. Was Wes doing what Alec thought he was going to be doing?... Yes. Yes, he was.

 

Apparently, Wes had nearly decupled? Was that a word?

 

[walker]double, triple, quadruple, quintuple, sextuple, septuple, octuple, nonuple, decuple... yeah. [/walker] Alec mumbled the words quietly, counting them out on his fingers.

 

Holy shit. Wes had basically decupled his power in, well, about as many years. He'd literally doubled his strength every year. 

 

[walker] Damn, man... That's incredible. [/walker] Alec exclaimed... and then Wes stepped onto it and levitated himself... imploring Alec not to make any Virgil jokes.

 

[walker] Ok, fine. Just let me know when we'll get a chance to fight Ebon and Hotstreak. Wouldn't want to miss that. [/walker] A slight chuckle. No way in hell was he going to let his friend live this one down. 

 

Alec was no empath, but he knew Wesley well enough to know the man wasn't going to stay mad or grumpy with him forever... especially not when Wes had a chance to be a badass in front of his friend. He followed after the magical levitating trash lid, range bags over his shoulder, and took care of some of the paperwork, picked up some extra ammo, and walked out to the actual range, hopeful his friend would enjoy himself at least a little. 

 

Alec removed the shotgun from its bag, checked again to make sure the barrel was clear, and then handed it over to his friend. [walker] You ever figure out how to manipulate moving metal that you can't really see? [/walker] 

 

The mage wanted to keep Wes moving forward, to not give his brain time to slow down and sink back into depression. [walker] Like... could you theoretically convert buckshot into a slug in midair? [/walker] 

 

Alec chuckled slightly, waiting for an answer.