Chapter 15. Magical communism

"What the hell happened yesterday?"

"And good morning to you too, Jane."

John glanced up from his phone and looked at the girl getting up from the bed. She didn’t look heroic at all—messy hair, wrinkled skirt, dark circles under her eyes. She looked... homey. Even kind of cute.

Jane waved her hand. Boom! A light storm enveloped her figure, her hair spiraled upward, and the traces of fatigue vanished.

A second later, she stood before him again—a goddess, with perfect posture, radiant skin, and hair straight out of a shampoo commercial.

John whistled. "Well, magic officially beats Head & Shoulders."

"I don’t remember falling asleep," she said, covering a yawn with her hand.

"Side effect of the liqueur. It knocked me out too." John returned to his phone. "Next time, we should read the instructions for magical booze."

"Why are you in my house?" Jane shot an annoyed look at the guest sitting at her table. "Weren’t you supposed to leave?"

"No point in leaving if tomorrow—well, technically today—we’re working together again." He shrugged. "And anyway, you should be thanking me for tucking you in. I had to sleep on the floor."

"Your super-body won’t catch a cold from sleeping on the cold floor," she said, pointing at his skull-like mask. "No real sacrifice, so your gentlemanly act doesn’t count!"

"Okay. Next time, I’ll just leave you on the waterfront," he smirked. "You’ve got a super-body too—you won’t freeze."

Jane choked on air in outrage.

[Heh. I’m already liking this morning.]

"So I fell asleep, and you stayed up," she muttered, paling slightly as she ran her hands down from her chest to her hips. "I was alone… helpless… You didn’t take advantage of me, did you?"

The sky darkened. The wind howled against the windows, waves roared behind the lighthouse. Thunder and lightning rained down from the sky. Shelves trembled, dishes rattled in the cabinets. The lights flickered.

"You didn’t take advantage of me?!"

John slowly turned his head, his eyes igniting with fire.

"First of all, go to hell for even thinking that! Even Zarathos inside me is offended!"

Jane took a step back.

"Second, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t!" John took a few deep breaths, calming himself. "Your breastplate and skirt are made of Mjolnir’s energy. No mage, demon, or god can remove them. Even Mammon couldn’t destroy them with his magic."

Fiery and stormy gazes clashed.

"It’s the most reliable chastity belt in history. Congratulations."

Jane stared at him for a few more seconds, then finally exhaled. The weather outside calmed down.

"I need food." She flipped her golden curls over her shoulder and headed for the fridge. "Want some apple pie?"

"As if you have anything else," John rolled his eyes. "Your fridge is full of nothing but apple pies."

"I love them!" Jane ignored the jab and put two slices in the microwave. "I could live off them forever!"

"And you don’t have to worry about ruining your figure," he said, giving her slim waist an appreciative glance.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

[I’ve got a perfect six-pack now, no matter what I eat. Nice. I’ll never fall out of shape as long as I stay in partial release.]

"Don’t you think it’s unfair that only we get these advantages?" she asked, watching the pie spin inside the microwave.

"Don’t flatter yourself," John scoffed. "Every mid-tier mage has a top-tier body. Doctor Voodoo has never set foot in a gym, but he’s built like an athlete. Scarlet Witch has a wasp waist and a D-cup without a single plastic surgery."

"That’s so unfair!" she huffed, nearly spilling milk as she poured it into glasses. "Why do regular people have to sweat in the gym while mages just snap their fingers and get Greek god abs?! Magic should be for everyone!"

"Jane, you sound like a magical communist," John groaned, rubbing his face. "Absolute equality doesn’t exist. There will always be kings and peasants. Just let it go."

"But—"

"Better tell me about this," John said, picking up his skull mask. "What’s it made of? It doesn’t feel like solidified Zarathos fire. And it’s insanely tough. While you were sleeping, I threw it off the lighthouse a few times, but it wouldn’t break. Even weirder—it always came back on its own. Like Zarathos’ Cross."

"You just answered your own question," she said smugly, nodding like a teacher. "Our armor is created from guardian artifacts. I have no idea how the original material multiplies when we release our powers or how to change the design. It just works that way."

"Got it," he said, placing the mask back on the table.

[I should look into this. If I survive thirteen months.]

The microwave timer beeped. Jane rustled her skirt as she set two plates of hot pie and two glasses of milk on the table.

"Breakfast is ready!" she declared grandly.

"Yeah, yeah," he closed his browser and set his phone aside. "Bon appétit."

"Wait…" She frowned at the black phone with a crack on its casing. "Did you take my phone?!"

"You brought it on yourself," he said, taking a sip of milk. "Shouldn’t have fallen asleep. No proper housewife leaves a guest bored."

"You should’ve asked for permission!"

"I’ll make sure to do that next time," John said solemnly, tracing a cross in the air for emphasis. "Relax, I was just browsing the internet."

She shot him another glare but started eating her pie.

[Nothing worth making a scene over… The most embarrassing thing in her search history is some porn sites. And even there, nothing exotic.]

"I’ve got two pieces of news for you," John said. "One bad, one hilarious. Which do you want first?"

"Umm…" Jane blinked. "The bad one?"

"You’re using mobile internet in a place where the weather shifts magically," the seasoned fugitive said, shaking his head. "There’s no way intelligence agencies haven’t already pinpointed your hideout and identity."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. knows my name?" Her pupils dilated slightly. "But I…"

"Never logged into your Facebook account on this phone, broke the camera, ripped out the speaker, and registered the SIM card to a homeless guy?" John nodded in respect. "Not bad, actually. But intelligence agencies have special programs and algorithms that identify people through their search history."

"Alright, so they have a file on me." She shrugged, unfazed. "And?"

John raised a brow, but she just smiled.

"Look, I don’t care about my past life," Jane continued. "I got kicked out of Doctors Without Borders ages ago. I have no family. No friends. If I die, no one will even notice. So what if the government knows my name?"

"I guess it doesn’t matter," he admitted with a shrug. "I’m sure they know mine too. I don’t hide in magical circles—it’s useless against the Eye of Agamotto anyway—but Doc’s got plenty of government lapdogs in his circle. I’d bet my hand that the quickest of them already sold me out for a promotion."

[How naive to think I could just go back to being a stuntman after all that hellish insanity.]

"It’ll be a shame to leave this place," she said, taking a bite of pie. "But I don’t want surveillance cameras and wiretaps all over it. So, what’s the hilarious news?"

"There’s not a single word about us in the news!"

Jane stared at him in silence for a few seconds, failing to see the joke.

"And why is that funny?" she finally asked.

"We committed the crime of the century—kidnapped the richest man on Earth—and nothing happened to us!" John grinned. "Not even a smear campaign in the media!"

"But you said Dario sent the Avengers a video of us wrecking that underwater facility," she pointed out. "They even have my address. Why haven’t they come after us yet?"

"They’re scared." John’s grin widened. "The Avengers definitely consulted magical experts, and those experts explained what Infinity Avatars are. Not a single super-clown or playboy in iron thongs stands a chance against us."

"What about the Sorcerer Supreme? Isn’t he the one who deals with magical threats like us?"

[Good point. If I hadn’t handed over Dario yesterday, Evil Strange would’ve already locked us in an emerald room. But she doesn’t need to know that.]

"The Sorcerer Supreme and the entire magical community have written us off," John told the truth. "Mages are just waiting for us to die on our own, and superheroes are too afraid to piss us off. Pretty great, huh?"

"Oh, mighty Sif…" Jane rolled her eyes dramatically. "My dream is crushed. I’ll never get to be an Avenger now…"

John choked on his milk, then burst out laughing so hard he spilled the rest on the table.

"Now that is actually hilarious!"

"What are you so happy about?" she pouted.

"I just imagined you at a meeting," he smirked. "Tony Stark ranting about terrorists in the Middle East, Captain America shaking his head at insurgents in Asia, and then you going, ‘Guys, let’s make magical communism!’"