Look, see...I was sent, okay, I was out of my mind, there was nanotech and Windows operating systems involved. Not. My. Fault.

As I lean on the wall and attempt to read the map, I wonder if it doesn't make sense because I'm dying, or because it's written in another language. Something in the back of my head prompts me to seek help, which is about the time that I notice that the guy who is protesting that he didn't try to plunge the town into choas is the same man who blasted the Ringwraith eariler.

"A powerful wizard! Just what I need!" I groan, as I faint into his arms.

"Oh, crap."

Something like this happens every couple of months or so. Random visitors from other planes or other cities or New Jersey wander up to me all battered and bloody and say "Oh, yay! A powerful wizard! Just what I need!" and pass out.

Just once, you know, you'd like something simple like "Got a light?" or "Hey, do you know Bob?" so I can answer "No." and go about my day. But now it's "A powerful wizard!" and an unconscious woman and that means trouble and trouble usually means that the sky's going to split open or hordes of super-intelligent gibbons on PCP are about to invade and I've got about half an hour to think of something.

*sigh*

I look at ita who looks like she's about to bolt and leave me hangin'. "Whaddya think? Take care of the unconscious stranger from another land or dump her at the hospital?"

"She did ask for a wizard," ita points out. "You sorta fit the bill."

"Yeah, yeah." I grumble a bit under my breath. "Awright, I'll take her back to my place, let Hector look after her 'til she wakes up and I'll make sure the staff's charged and the sword's sharpened and the spells are ready and the tranquilizer darts are loaded." I sling the woman up over my shoulder.

"I just hope it's not the gibbons again."

I'm about to leave when I hear him mention gibbons.

I think he needs to be watched.

He's not finished recharging yet, bless him - I could do with a recharger myself, actually. I'm pleasantly achey, but let's draw a veil over all that. Suffice it to say that the t however the hell long has passed outside the apartment has been spent in a very pleasant fashion, and I'm thoroughly pleased that I moved in next door to a Gigolo Joe-bot. Bless him. (Not a bad cook, either, and he can light cigarettes with his finger. And he didn't mind all the 'Light my fire' jokes that had me giggling helplessly at my own Crap Quip skills.)

Anyway, once I'm out of the shower I sling on something long, cleavagey and claret-coloured and lace on some big stompy boots, pick up my demure little Mary Poppins (TM) Carpet Bag and wander out into the darkness.

I wonder what's happening in Blood tonight...

"So what's all this, then?" Hector asks. He's talking with his mouth full of raw hamburger again. ita's just nailing him to the spot with this stony glare, so he sort of swallows and wipes his mouth. "'nother unconscious girl asking for help?"

"Yes. Damn it." I put her on the day bed and wander into the kitchen for a beer. "You think you can do anything with her?"

"Maybe. You're the wizard, though."

"Yeah, people keep telling me." I guzzle half the bottle and relax a bit. "But it might be gibbons, so I got to be ready."

"Gibbons?"

"Never mind. I'm gonna go look for...I don't know. I'll know it when I see it." I head for the bookshelf. "ita, you want anything? Beer? Water? Ambrosia? Fatted calf? Tiramisu?"

Tiramisu ...

But that never ends well. And we have all the "never ends well" that we can handle from MiracleMan and gibbons anyway.

"No, I'm good. Well ... not good ... but you know."

I move to a spot with clear view of all the doors and windows and start cleaning my already spotless sword.

Ow.

Ow. Soft, for a day bed, but ow.

Vocalising might be worth a try. "Ow," I groan, discovering that breathing that much hurts my ribs.

"Boss."

Ah, this week's Mystery Guest is awakening. I put down Gorformandir's Really Weird Prophecies (Guaranteed to be True!) and wander over.

"Hi there. I'm Miracleman. This is Hector, a bogeyman." Hector grins at her. "Over there is ita, cross-dimensional warrior, bad ass and vigilante for Sang Sacre. You are this month's Source of Trouble, I'd wager. What do you need a wizard for? Want some tiramisu?"

The horses that thunder past are carrying disconcertingly familiar cloaked figures in black, and there's an ill wind blowing no good in the streets near my apartment. I'm getting the strangest feeling that something's watching me. Huh.

I keep seeing this flaming freudian symbol just on the edge of my peripheral vision, but every time I turn it's gone. Odd. Just to be on the safe side I pause beside a street light as a crowd of teenagers listening to Bangra and performing an impromptu Bollywood routine surge past, and I rummage in my carpet bag.

...TV Remote...wallet full of knuts and galleons...selkie skin...sonic transducer...light sabre... neurofen... tampons... Dime bar...five gold rings...four calling birds..silver hip flask of sloe gin... Aha! Excaliber. (Sheathed, natch)

Wonderful what you find in the Thrift Stores in this town.

Splendid. I draw my sword, scabbard and all, and buckle the belt around my waist. Damn. Wish the leather were black - doesn't really co-ordinate with the wardrobe. Hmph. Oh well, not to worry.