Eighth Casefile: Reversed Fortunes

[quicktoanger]

[Action: Your character's living room!]

I noticed a few problems immediately.

The first was that I wasn't outside of Johnny Marcone's office building. In fact, I wasn't even outside. I seemed to be in some sort of small apartment. 

The second was that I couldn't feel the Winter Mantle. Which sucked, because I had been in really, really rough shape.

The third was that I wasn't in really, really rough shape. In fact, I felt fine. The only thing that hurt was my back.

The fourth was that my back hurt. Specifically, my shoulderblades hurt. And I had the most peculiar feeling of deja vu, in the same way that getting dropped into molten steel gives you a peculiar feeling of warmth. That, and the familiarity of the apartment...

"Oh hell's bells, you cannot be serious."

[OOC: So for today's exceptionally late re-intro, enjoy 1 Harry Dresden, slightly confused, and appearing in somebody else's house for a change.]
 

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Absolutely!

[quicktoanger]

It had already been a weird day. I'd pissed off the world's shortest bodybuilder, had a rather alarming introduction to Rei's new girlfriend, and only just gotten my stuff together- fortunately, nearly all of it was there- and was only just now getting around to finding a place to hang my non-existant hat.

And then I heard the unmistakable sound of passive magic shorting out advanced circuitry. From a broody-looking guy just to my left.

I turned and found him examining his arm. His limp and lifeless arm. And he pulled off his glove to reveal-

Oh, hell's bells. I vaporized the poor kid's arm.

"Crap! Uh, sorry. Sorry about that. Usually I can, um. Control that. Better."

[ignite_the_stars]

Anakin looked up slowly, most of his attention had been, and still was, focused on trying to figure out why his arm had suddenly stopped working for no reason. So it took him a moment to realize this stranger was trying to provide an explanation.

“You... did this?” Anakin did not look relieved, or happy to have this answer.