Author's Note:
Great news, everyone! I graduated, got my diploma, and all that stuff. I am officially done studying; now I just have to find a job.
Anyway, to celebrate this success, I decided to write this DC/Marvel story.
XXX
Story Title: Kaleidoscope Adventure (DC/Marvel): The Wacky Stories of Black Warlock
Plot: Six months ago, Nightfall City got its very first superhero, Black Warlock. Dressed like a D&D character, he saves the city with a flick of his staff and the occasional sword or whip strike. Unfortunately, his life as a Saturday-morning hero is turned upside down by the arrival of superheroes and supervillains from other cities. The Justice League, the Avengers, and the Magus are not welcome in his city.
XXX
Story Arc: Out-of-Town Visitors
Episode 1: A Ruined Evening
Chapter 1: It's Raining Ice Cream
Plot: Black Warlock stopped a crazy ice cream man who wanted to destroy a mall. A parking lot literally has a mountain of strawberry and chocolate ice cream. The usual stuff for Nightfall. Then, a couple of outsiders—one obsessed with ice, the other with fire—come along to plan some trouble.
XXX
POV Narrator
Nightfall is not Metropolis, a fake crystal utopia where alien titans regularly crash into skyscrapers, grinding steel into dust. It is not Gotham, where the fog smells of sulfur and psychopaths in flashy costumes call the shots, orchestrating terrorist attacks from the shadows. And it is not even the primordial chaos of New York, a powder keg saturated with the highest number of superheroes and vigilants in the world, constantly on the brink of the next apocalyptic disaster.
Nightfall is different. It is big enough to offer cultural stimulation and vibrant lights at night, but contained enough not to swallow you up in chaos.
For decades, this city remained miraculously immune to the costume madness that infected the rest of the East Coast. Its inhabitants lived in a bubble of peaceful normalcy, grateful they didn't have to wake up to the hysterical laughter of a clown ready to blow up an entire block, or to the metallic clatter of an android army marching down the streets.
Then, six months ago, Nightfall's luck ran out. Or almost.
It all started when Dr. Tytus, after being unceremoniously kicked out of Oscorp, fell back on a chemistry professorship at the local university in Nightfall. But his mind was already fractured. By the end of the first semester, loneliness and resentment drove him over the edge, straight into a delusion where he was deep in conversation with a plastic goldfish on his desk.
When the dean fired him, Tytus barricaded the lab doors. He wanted the facility to burn. He wanted flames. Instead, the unstable mixture of acids and radioactive fumes reacted in the most unpredictable way: no explosion, just a thick, luminescent cloud that hit him full-on, mutating his DNA. When the fumes cleared, Tytus was gone. In his place was Toxzon: his skin greenish and corrosive, his veins pulsing with acids, and the biological capacity to secrete and manipulate any type of lethal toxin.
Within a few hours, Toxzon contaminated the campus water supply, turning the faculty and students into a shuffling, glass-eyed army of zombies. Tragedy seemed inevitable until a bizarre new defender appeared: Black Warlock, a superhero wrapped in a magic-themed costume. With a crazy mix of chemical formulas and the summoning of tons of a purple, sticky slime, Warlock trapped the mutants and neutralized Toxzon's toxins, sealing the villain away before he could get past the campus gates.
Since that day, something happens in Nightfall every week. But Black Warlock is always there, ready to step in. Fortunately, the local underworld is nowhere near the ruthless standards of Joker or Green Goblin; the city seems to attract harmless oddities rather than bloodthirsty megalomaniacs.
In the first month after Toxzon, the only real threat of note was a resentful former veterinarian. Using a ray device of his own invention, he turned a common ditch frog into a colossal 5-ton amphibian, unleashing it upon the city just to destroy the office of a colleague who had snatched an academic award from him.
The rest of that month's local front pages were filled with quirks bordering on the ridiculous:
- The Lorraine family's female dog suddenly started talking, complaining loudly about the quality of her kibble.
- The four zoo penguins, displaying disturbing tactical skills, escaped from their enclosure for the third consecutive time.
- The old hermit from the junkyard welded tons of scrap metal together, creating a mechanical submarine shaped like a sea monster with which he rammed motorboats, terrifying the participants of the lake fishing tournament.
- The Test twins, two prodigy girls who were definitely way too curious, synthesized a radioactive fertilizer in their backyard garden, giving life to giant, carnivorous roses that tried to snap at passing mailmen.
- Finally, a bizarre individual threw on a buccaneer costume and, aboard a small wooden boat modified with wheels and a lawnmower engine, invaded the main road, wielding a plastic cutlass and literally trying to be a highwayman.
XXX
It was a beautiful mid-summer Friday in Nightfall City. The thick, hot air made the horizon shimmer above the asphalt, but it was the kind of heat wave that anyone could easily solve with an ice-cold drink or some good artisanal ice cream.
At the wheel of an unmarked police car sat the Chief of the investigative squad, Motoko Kusanagi. Her records listed her age as thirty-seven, but she barely looked twenty. Her deep, vibrant purple hair was cut into a short, geometric bob that framed her face, with straight bangs brushing the line of her eyebrows. Her eyes, a magnetic dark red, stared at the road with cold, expert concentration. Her fair complexion contrasted with her civilian plainclothes, over which her department's gold badge stood out, firmly clipped to her chest.
At that moment, Motoko was driving toward the forensics labs to pick up the "know-it-all doll," their eccentric outside consultant. Despite the bizarre, comic-book turn the city had taken over the last six months, ordinary crimes had not stopped plaguing the streets. Old-school murderers, thieves, and scammers still demanded the hard work of the police force.
If nothing else, vigilantes were not a political issue in Nightfall. Unlike Batman in Gotham or Daredevil in New York, who constantly interfered in detectives' business and trampled over the chain of command, Black Warlock showed commendable common sense. He dealt almost exclusively with the absurd anomalies. Of course, critical emergencies were an exception—such as arsons, armed robberies, or missing children—but he had the decency and good manners to land on the scene and ask paramedics, officers, and firefighters if they actually needed his support before taking action.
The superhero had even shown up at the central precinct through the front door. He had knocked on the Police Chief's office door to agree on a standard operating protocol, asking for clear directives on what to do if, during his patrols, he stumbled upon a corpse in the forest or an illegal toxic waste dump.
The police were having a rough week. Motoko and her squad were currently investigating the mysterious disappearance of ten people. The victims apparently had nothing in common, with different ages and backgrounds. The only disturbing common thread was that they owned or managed sweet-related businesses, such as pastry shops, milkshake stands, and ice cream parlors.
The Lead Investigator's car came to a smooth stop ahead of the white line of a red light. It was at that exact moment that the madness began.
The windshield was suddenly pelted by a volley of thick, colorful projectiles. It started raining ice cream.
"What the hell!?" Motoko exclaimed.
Without hesitation, she poked her head out of the window, braving the sticky drops, and looked up at the blue sky.
A gigantic, cotton-candy-pink blimp was rolling dangerously through the clouds, clearly out of control and on a collision course with the ground. From the tears in its cabin and its side windows, it wasn't smoke coming out, but violent, high-pressure jets of frozen cream, lashing the surrounding air just like the destructive blasts of a military flamethrower.
For the six-hundredth time since she had moved here, Motoko seriously wondered if it had been a good idea to resign from SHIELD to join the NCPD.
With a smooth, practiced motion, the purple-haired woman pulled herself back inside the cabin, flipped the siren switch—which began to wail, piercing through the street racket—and firmly grabbed the microphone of the radio connected to headquarters.
"Dispatch, this is Mega 1. I'm on Plaza Boulevard, heading north. Intercepting a pink blimp that is going down and shooting ice cream like a broken fire hydrant. Initiating active pursuit. Requesting backup units. Possible Oddity Code," Motoko declared in a firm, professional tone before slamming her boot onto the gas pedal, making the car leap forward as the tires screeched on the cream covering the asphalt.
XXX
In less than fifteen minutes, the Lead Investigator's car slammed to a halt. Motoko opened the door and leaped out of the cabin with a smooth, feline motion, her hands firmly locked around the grip of her service weapon. However, as soon as her eyes focused on the details of the scene, she realized that her pistol would be of no use to her.
The parking lot of Nightfall City's largest mall looked like a bizarre cross between a war zone and a pastry shop commercial. In the center of the parking area lay the deflated carcass of the pink blimp, resting almost to the millimeter in the space between the lanes. Miraculously, none of the civilian cars had been crushed, but the roadway was so warped and corroded that the city would have to repave it from scratch.
Half of the parking lot was literally submerged under a thick, colorful tide. Many cars were covered in cream up to their roofs, and right in the middle of the area towered a full-fledged, seven-meter-high mountain of ice cream. Amidst that sweet paradise stood a man in his fifties, visibly overweight, with thick white hair and a matching beard. He could have easily passed the casting call to play Santa Claus, if not for the eccentric pink ice cream man uniform he wore and the undeniably maniacal expression painted on his face. Furthermore, the old man was trapped inside a colossal, semi-transparent, cherry-flavored popsicle.
Motoko holstered her gun with a sharp click, already having a vague idea of how things had gone down.
"Warlock! Where are you!?" she called out loudly, ready to bet her badge that the local hero was hiding nearby.
"Over here!" a bright, cheerful male voice replied.
A head emerged from the tide of sugary cream, like a mole popping out of the ground. With a bizarre jolt of energy, all the ice cream stuck to his body and clothes vanished within a millisecond, dissolving into nothingness by pure magic.
"The most beautiful cop in town, we meet again," Black Warlock exclaimed, giving Motoko an informal, sunny wave, as if greeting an old high school friend.
Here comes a Gen Z superhero, Motoko thought to herself as she looked at him. Way more social, open, and down-to-earth compared to the older generations of vigilantes. It was evident that Black Warlock was light-years away from the classic, brooding, unflappable heroes of steel.
Nightfall's protector was a young adult with an athletic, well-built physique, an apparent age between twenty-five and twenty-eight, and a height of about six feet one inch, not counting his horns. Whether he was a mutant, a mutate, or an alien, it was clear at first glance that he was no ordinary human being.
His skin had a whitish, almost ethereal hue. The sclerae of his eyes were completely black, his irises glowed with a deep gold, and his pupils were not round but contained a glowing geometric glyph. When he spoke, his smile revealed sharp fangs, and two cleanly cut, curved horns sprouted from the top of his head. His hair, of a dark purple shade identical to Motoko's, was pulled back into a thick, shaggy ponytail that resembled a wolf's or a fox's fur. His hands and feet had a visibly bony, exposed structure, and both his wrists and ankles were ringed by a collar of thick black fur.
Around his neck, he wore a thin silver chain from which hung a tiny, black-covered booklet. His attire looked like it came straight out of the illustrations of a Dungeons & Dragons manual; many citizens, upon seeing him, assumed he was a sort of Thor, just a less divine and more arcane version. He wore a sleeveless, dark blue tunic, tight on the torso and cinched at the waist, paired with midnight blue pants that went down to his ankles. His arms and wrists were partially wrapped in purple arm warmers, while a sash of the same color encircled his waist like a belt, knotted in a way that left a long section of fabric hanging down the front.
Over his tunic, he wore a distinctive short cape that covered his neck and shoulders—a clean, geometrically cut garment, similar to a shoulder-cape or a short poncho. The upper part tightened around his throat with a stiff, high collar, fastened at the front by a circular silver brooch. From there, the fabric cascaded over his chest and back, forming geometric points, leaving his arms completely free to move. A wide hood was sewn onto the back; when lowered, it gathered softly on his shoulders, but when raised, it was deep enough to hide his face entirely in shadow. In short, Black Warlock looked like a cross between a scholarly monk and a medieval traveler.
[Imagine Luz Noceda in her Titan Form, but dressed as a Speaker from Netflix's Castlevania, and you get a vague idea of what Black Warlock looks like]
The boy gave a small hop in place. Instead of sinking into the layer of ice cream, his feet stepped onto an invisible surface of magical energy that stretched mid-air, keeping him elevated above the rubbery slime. Clearly, Black Warlock had no intention of committing the crime of stepping on and ruining good ice cream, especially on such a hot day. Walking quickly along that invisible walkway, the hero came within a few paces of the beautiful police officer.
"Warlock, tell me what happened," Motoko demanded, planting an arm on her hip and keeping her other hand near her holster, out of pure professional caution.
"I saw something strange and suspicious, I investigated, and I found... Ice Cream Man!" Warlock exclaimed with theatrical emphasis, spinning around sharply to point at the old man trapped in the cherry popsicle.
The purple-haired woman shifted her gaze to the crazy-looking fifty-year-old. "Ice Cream Man? Seriously?" she asked, convinced she had never heard such a ridiculous stage name for a supervillain, though judging by his current condition, the man was little more than an aspiring criminal.
"He's dressed like an ice cream vendor, what else was I supposed to nickname him?" Black Warlock shot back, spreading his arms as if to say he didn't have much of a choice.
Motoko opened her mouth, ready to suggest a more high-sounding alternative, but no decent name came to mind.
"Keep going," she cut him short, gesturing for him to speak and immediately erasing that creative failure from her memory.
"To make a long story short, Ice Cream Man decided to take revenge after realizing that his family-owned parlor, which had been active for four generations, was on the brink of bankruptcy due to the growing demand for new trendy desserts like milkshakes, slushes, and shaved ice," Warlock explained, carefully summarizing the old man's motives.
"Are you telling me this old guy is the mastermind behind the strange kidnappings over the last few days?" Motoko asked, genuinely surprised that the culprit was a simple ice cream vendor.
"Yes. He invented a rifle capable of freezing people and a cannon that produces ice cream in industrial quantities," Warlock replied, pointing to the sugary mountain around them.
"His rifle must be somewhere down there, while the cannon is still on board the blimp. I suggest watching your step and calling the bomb squad as a precaution... although a wild berry ice cream explosion is unlikely to hurt anyone. Maybe someone who is lactose intolerant?" the hero rattled on, starting to lose his train of thought.
Motoko clapped her hands together with a sharp snap, drawing the boy's attention back to her. "How did an ice cream vendor build such technology, or even buy it?" the detective muttered. She knew perfectly well that even for her, as she was no ordinary civilian, it would be difficult to procure weapons of that caliber on the black market.
"Ice Cream Man is a Tinker," Warlock explained, finally offering a sensible interpretation. "An individual capable of creating super-technology without having the slightest idea of how it actually works, let alone how to explain it in words. He simply builds it following a strange instinct, based on a blueprint that appears directly in his head. Honestly, it's more of an art or a pseudoscience."
"Anything else to add?" the purple-haired woman asked, intent on extracting as much information as possible from Black Warlock.
Even though Nightfall's hero was incredibly approachable compared to his brooding counterparts in other metropolises, and despite his collaborative approach with law enforcement, he still remained a private guy. He never spoke about his powers, his origins, or his past.
"Tinkers always have a specific specialization; they are good at building a single line of technology," Warlock added, placing a hand under his chin thoughtfully. "In Ice Cream Man's case... is his specialty freezing technology, or quite literally, ice cream technology? I'm not entirely sure."
"And how do you know all this?" Motoko asked, intrigued by that definition. She had never heard of Tinkers. The only vaguely similar thing she could think of was Forge, the X-Men mutant, whose power of technological intuition was superior, however, and lacked such thematic limitations.
"I read it in a book from the Library of Alexandria," Warlock replied with total naturalness, as if he were talking about the public library around the corner.
If Motoko were still an elite SHIELD agent, she would have immediately activated espionage channels to find out where this elusive Library of Alexandria was, trying to understand if it was the original mythical institution or the code name for a secret government archive. But today, she was a detective for the Nightfall City Police Department. She no longer needed to lose herself in such mental paranoia. She could focus on two simple, clean, and clear responsibilities: to protect and to serve.
"The criminal is under arrest, alright, but where are the kidnapped people?" Motoko asked. She ran a hand through her purple hair, slightly messing up her geometric bob, betraying real concern for the safety of the ten people who had vanished into thin air.
"Trapped inside lemon popsicles in the cold room of Ice Cream Man's hideout," Warlock replied with unsettling casualness, raising a bony arm to point toward an unspecified spot to the northwest.
"And where exactly would this man's hideout be?" Motoko pressed on, forcing herself to keep her voice serious and professional despite the absurdity of the situation.
"In the old abandoned ice cream factory. Where else would a crazy ice cream man hide?" Warlock shot back, spreading his hands as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
Motoko blinked several times, thrown off by the disarming linearity of that reasoning. They never taught us how to handle stuff like this at the SHIELD Academy, the detective thought to herself. She had passed advanced tactical simulations and attended masterclasses on how to negotiate with lethal and complex figures like Wolverine, but no one had prepared her to interact with a friendly, carefree Warlock who grew up in a small town.
"Now that I've answered all your questions, can I go back to doing my thing?" the boy asked, spinning around sharply toward the colossal, seven-meter-high mountain of cream.
"Yes, but stay close until backup arrives," Motoko ordered, preferring to keep the local hero nearby in case things took a turn for the worse.
"Got it!" Warlock exclaimed.
Without apparent effort, the young man made a prodigious seven-meter vertical leap, landing with millimetric precision on top of the ice cream mountain. A moment later, he threw himself down on his stomach, sliding down the creamy slope just like a penguin on snow.
Motoko shook her head and strode back toward her car's cabin, grabbing the service radio microphone.
"Dispatch, this is Mega 1. I'm in front of the Golden Mall; Oddity Code confirmed, upgraded to BW Code. Send a patrol to take a crazy pseudo-scientist into custody. Bring portable heaters and the bomb squad; there are a couple of potentially unstable high-tech devices on-site," the woman declared, listing the operational priorities in a firm tone.
"Mega 1, this is Dispatch. Backup is two minutes away from the Golden Mall. Hold your position," the operator on the other end of the speaker promptly replied.
"Dispatch, there is another urgent matter. You need to send a second patrol and a medical team equipped with thermal heaters to the old abandoned ice cream factory. The suspect is responsible for the recent kidnappings. All hostages are there, quite literally kept on ice," Motoko added, outlining the second phase of the response.
"Roger, Mega 1. Is Black Warlock still in the area?" Dispatch asked to verify the status of the threat.
"Affirmative, Dispatch. I spoke with BW; our local hero has already handled the bulk of the work. It's up to us to pick up the package, provide medical assistance to civilians, and clear the perimeter," Motoko replied, shifting her gaze through the windshield to observe Warlock, who at that moment was literally swimming in the sugary tide.
"Copy that, Mega 1. Keep an eye on the situation while awaiting backup," Dispatch concluded, closing the communication with a click.
The purple-haired detective put the microphone back on the dashboard and stepped out of the car once more. She walked to the edge of the colorful puddle, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the hero of Nightfall City play in the ice cream like a kindergarten child.
"What exactly are you doing?" Motoko asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm living every kid's dream!" Warlock replied with an expression of pure happiness painted on his bizarre face. "Now I'm going to draw an ice cream angel, then I'll make a snowman, and finally, I'm going to eat cream until I get a terrible stomachache!"
"Are you by any chance a child trapped in an adult's body?" Motoko asked with genuine scientific curiosity. In her career at SHIELD, she had heard of similar anomalies, often linked to accelerated growth processes in labs, structural defects in stasis pods, or severe psychic damage caused by a telepath's attack.
At that question, the local hero unwisely stopped waving his arms and legs in the cream. He sat up and, looking her in the eye, lightly patted his chest, right over his sternum.
"Adult brain in an adult body," Warlock replied, flashing a smile that revealed his sharp fangs. "But with a definitely childlike heart."
"Then why don't you enjoy an ice cream like any normal adult?" Motoko asked, still unable to find any logical sense in the boy's extravagant actions.
"I won't pretend to be the smartest man in the world, let alone know you well or have some grand life experience. I'm sure you know much more than I do about how the world works," Warlock replied, leaning back on the creamy mound and crossing his hands over his navel.
"You have no idea," Motoko replied with a faint, bitter smile. There had been a time, back in SHIELD, when she had access to classified information that even heads of state were ignorant of.
"But I can tell you what I've learned in my short life," Warlock declared. His tone of voice suddenly grew tired, almost disillusioned, cracking his cheerful mask for a moment. "Being serious, quiet, pragmatic, and strictly following the rules... it helps you with work, sure. But it will never make you happy."
The boy snapped upright, the bitterness vanishing in a flash, replaced by a contagious joy. He threw his arms up, as if wanting to embrace the summer sky. "I stopped worrying about trivial things. I decided to chase my dream, I became a superhero, and I have never been happier in my life!"
With a faint arcane glow, a transparent glass bowl materialized out of thin air in his left hand, while a finely decorated silver spoon appeared in his right. With a smooth flick of his wrist, the hero scooped a generous portion of cream from the edges of his invisible seat, filling the cup to the brim.
"So, beautiful career woman—who is definitely way too serious—take some ice cream and enjoy the moment," Warlock said, leaning forward to offer the bowl and spoon to the Lead Investigator.
"I don't know if you're stupid or a genius," Motoko commented. A spontaneous little smile lit up her fair face as she reached out her arm to take Warlock's gift.
"Who knows?" he replied, shrugging his shoulders as he sprang back to his feet with an agile leap. "I'm smart enough not to rob banks or plan world domination, but stupid enough to take an entire city under my protection for absolutely nothing. Except for pure emotional reward."
Warlock held out his hands again. This time, a large raw leather sack with an exquisitely fantasy feel appeared in his left hand—the classic magic item straight out of a D&D manual, a bag of holding capable of containing an immense space inside. In his right hand, however, he gripped a sturdy metal snow shovel.
"I'm going to fill my sack with as much ice cream as possible! That way, I won't have to buy any for who knows how long," the boy exclaimed. He opened the mouth of the bag, placed it on the invisible surface, and began to vigorously shovel large blocks of sugary cream into the artifact, which by its nature froze time for anything placed inside.
Six months ago, I was listening to my former colleagues' absurd stories about how weird it was to deal with Spider-Man in New York... but this is on a completely different level, Motoko thought. For a split second, she was almost tempted to pull her department phone out of her pocket to snap a picture of him.
Then she turned serious again, reassuming control of the situation. "Once the patrol arrives here to handle the scene, you should head straight to the old abandoned factory. Help the paramedics locate and move the hostages."
Warlock raised his thumb, giving her a nod of understanding to confirm he understood the order.
At least he's easy to talk to, Motoko admitted to herself. She had to acknowledge that collaborating with the local Warlock was not a monumental, nerve-wracking task like managing Iron Man's massive ego—a misfortune that had unfortunately befallen her a couple of times during her SHIELD days. With Warlock, the business was incredibly straightforward: you got his attention, you told him clearly to his face what needed to be done, and he carried out the task without making a fuss, at most asking a few questions to better grasp the details of the request.
XXX
About an hour later, the outside clearing of the abandoned ice cream factory had been transformed into an emergency headquarters. The flashing blue and red lights of four ambulances and four unmarked police cars cut through the afternoon air, casting intermittent glows against the cracked brick walls of the facility.
Sergeant Drew Wu watched the scene with his arms crossed. He was a man in his forties of Chinese descent, with short black hair and alert brown eyes, looking impeccable in the classic dark blue uniform of the Nightfall City Police Department. Wu had served for years in the Portland police force but had transferred to Nightfall the previous year for strictly personal reasons. His first six months in town had been something of an early vacation; compared to Portland, Nightfall had seemed like a tiny, harmless Chihuahua. Unfortunately for him, over the last six months, that Chihuahua had turned out to be a paranormal Chihuahua.
At that moment, the sergeant was watching the local hero intently as he freed the last hostage from the lemon ice block in which she was trapped.
Black Warlock clapped his hands with a sharp snap, generating a shower of crackling sparks of arcane energy. As soon as he extended his palms to touch the yellow, frozen surface, those same sparks spread like a glowing virus across the entire popsicle. Within a millisecond, the matter underwent an instantaneous phase transition, shifting from solid to liquid; the lemon ice melted all at once, turning into a large, fragrant puddle.
With a lightning-fast motion, Warlock caught the civilian in his arms before she could fall and, assisted by the paramedics who immediately took over, gently laid her onto the stretcher. Before the medical team moved away, the hero handed one of the responders a small glass vial containing a bright red liquid. "In case her condition worsens," he recommended in a low voice.
"I've already seen you do that ten times in a row, but it's still impressive," Sergeant Wu commented, stepping back to avoid stepping into the yellowish puddle. "Turning ice into lemonade... what's next? Are you going to turn it into wine?"
"I don't know, and I don't care to know. I don't drink," Warlock replied in a flat tone, devoid of any interest in that alchemical experiment.
"I heard on the radio that the mastermind behind all this madness is a crazy ice cream man. Is that true?" Wu asked, genuinely curious.
Black Warlock simply nodded with a solemn nod of his head.
"I'll have to write this one down," the sergeant sighed, slipping his fingers into his uniform pocket to pull out a crumpled notebook and a pen.
"Do you really write down every absurd thing that happens in this town?" Warlock asked, having been convinced until then that he was the only one keeping a diary of the local oddities.
"Yes. It keeps me from losing my mind with all of this," the cop replied, making a vague circular gesture toward the lemon puddle and the industrial building.
Wu opened the notebook and began flipping through the closely written pages. "Let's see... Last week, when the Apple Family's farm was overrun by bats, their eldest daughter's brilliant female friend thought it would be a good idea to solve the issue by building a strange machine. The result? Now we're stuck with two permanent Bat-Ponies and an entire flock of pastel-colored bats that glow in the dark," Wu listed, shaking his head at one of Nightfall's many bizarre events.
"They became docile after I used a stabilizing potion on them," Black Warlock pointed out, proud to have contributed to solving, at least in part, that ecological disaster.
"And the week before that?" Wu continued, turning the page. "A chimpanzee escaped from the zoo and was hit full-on by a truck carrying illegal chemical waste. After the explosion, the primate's brain quite literally grew; he started talking, wearing tailored clothes, wielding firearms, and attempted to rob three banks and the produce section of the local grocery store chain."
"Come to think of it, I believe Nightfall has the highest rate of superpowers-wielding animals in all of America," Black Warlock murmured, touching his chin thoughtfully. "At least the dogs so far have shown they just want to live a quiet life with their families... unlike the monkeys, wolves, and lizards." The hero called to mind three past incidents where the local fauna had ceased to be mere fauna.
"Even before the chimpanzee," Wu pressed on, raising his voice slightly as he recalled the event from three weeks ago, "a dentist went completely insane and synthesized high-tech orthodontic braces that not only controlled people's minds but transformed into deadly weapons."
"Are you still angry about that?" Black Warlock asked with a smirk, knowing full well that the sergeant had been one of the unfortunate victims of the mad dental hygienist.
The cop turned his head to the side and flashed a massive smile. Suddenly, an artificial reflection of light flashed from his teeth so intensely it was almost blinding. "The effect gets weaker every week," Wu commented, squinting his eyes and turning another page of the notebook. "A little more time and I'll finally be able to brush my teeth in the morning without having to wear sunglasses."
Then his gaze grew serious as he re-read the notes from a month ago. "The most dangerous case recently was undoubtedly that circus that came to town. Too bad the troupe's goal was to pillage our homes and kidnap children. A young girl with tentacle hair capable of slicing through iron, a seven-foot-tall giant able to lift police cruisers, a Gollum-like freak who spat acid drool, a tamer with mutated felines, and that creepy Clown with hypnosis powers and an energy vampire's appetite," Sergeant Wu listed with deep contempt. He hated clowns with all his soul.
"That was a definitely more challenging end of the month than usual," Black Warlock admitted, recalling the effort it took to simultaneously neutralize five genuine supervillains equipped with lethal powers.
"You know what? I much prefer when teenage geniuses make their little messes in the lab or when we have to chase a mutated animal," Sergeant Wu commented, closing the notebook with a sharp snap of his hand. "It's much better than dealing with old geezers playing supervillain or actual psychopaths."
"Unfortunately, this town has been blessed with too many prodigy children," Black Warlock commented, his tone serious. "And many of them have the potential to win a Nobel Prize or, alternatively, to trigger a zombie apocalypse in their backyard."
"I feel like I've become the sheriff of Eureka, but without the federal badge and the brown uniform," the sergeant joked, citing one of his favorite TV shows.
The local hero extended his right hand forward and evoked a vibrant, bluish flame. The blast stretched mid-air, condensing into a perfect line of solidified fire. When the light cleared, between Black Warlock's fingers was a long staff of carved white wood, on top of which glowed a light-blue gemstone cut in the shape of a flame.
"I've done my part. See you around," Warlock said, flipping the magic weapon so the jewel faced downward.
"Have a safe trip to Hogwarts, and good luck with the Quidditch match," Sergeant Wu called out in a teasing tone. The Harry Potter jokes had by now become a running gag among the department's officers.
Black Warlock rolled his eyes, exasperated but amused. He positioned the staff between his legs, gripping it tightly with both hands, mimicking the posture of someone about to fly on a broomstick.
"Fly," he declared solemnly.
The boy lifted his legs off the ground, and the staff smoothly detached from the floor. A second later, the hero shot upward with the same brutal acceleration of a military jet taking off, leaving behind only a hiss of air.
Sergeant Wu planted his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes to follow Warlock's figure as it became a tiny black dot lost among the clouds. I really wish I had received that Hogwarts letter... I wonder what it's truly like to fly on a broomstick, the cop thought with a pinch of childhood nostalgia, before turning on his heels to join his colleagues and finish processing the scene.
Much higher up, well above the blanket of clouds turned golden by the sun, Black Warlock uttered a single, sharp activation word: "Teleport."
In a flash of light-blue light, the hero vanished into thin air, erasing himself from the sky of Nightfall City. For today, his shift was officially over.
XXX
Black Warlock reappeared with a faint pop of air in the middle of what, at first glance, looked like the room of an old stately manor converted into a library. The environment was saturated with the pungent smell of old paper and seasoned wood. The walls were entirely occupied by bookshelves, four-fifths of them filled with massive, worn historical tomes, while the remaining fifth housed colorful Light Novels and decidedly more modern books.
This place was Warlock's Fake Personal Library. Everything predating 1900 had been bought in bulk along with the property—a safe, isolated haven where the boy could dedicate himself to his readings on the arcane or simply relax.
"This time was definitely much easier," Black Warlock commented, smoothly stepping off the magic staff and planting his feet back on the floor. "Etching that containment circle with chalk was an excellent move to establish an anchor point."
Under his bony boots was a dark wood floor, on which an intricate, recently drawn geometric diagram stood out. Its sole purpose was to act as a catalyst, making teleportation much safer and less taxing on his energy reserves.
"Congratulations, Master. You did an excellent job today," a thin, melodious female voice replied, coming from the small black booklet the hero wore around his neck.
"Thanks, Sora. But honestly, I just got lucky," Warlock admitted, lifting the artifact with his fingertips to bring it to eye level, making the conversation feel more natural. "If that girl who works for the police and the union boss's daughter didn't stop by my shop every single day to gossip about everything, I would have never known about these disappearances."
"Master, don't underestimate yourself," she gently scolded him—Sora being the human name the Sentient Grimoire had chosen for herself. "Your unwitting connections in the police and local politics keep you informed about the town's background, it's true. But you're still the only one who goes out there to hunt down and face Nightfall's dangers!"
"Danger is a definitely strong word to describe the crazy guy from this shift," Warlock replied, scratching his head behind his curved horns, certain he had risked almost nothing against the ice cream man.
"A defeated enemy is a defeated enemy; don't rack your brain over his strength or weakness. You saved ten human lives, prevented a sugar-based ecological disaster, and got a rich bounty to boot," Sora continued, acting like a benevolent older sister or a perfect emotional support.
"Yeah. At least we won't have to worry about buying ice cream for a good while," Warlock conceded, a small sly smile revealing his fangs. Then, looking up at the old grandfather clock hanging on the wall, he realized that time had flown. "I think it's time to head back to base."
"I agree, Master. We have excellent employees, but some of them tend to slack off if they aren't properly supervised," Sora confirmed, knowing the slackers of the group well.
"Then let's not waste time, the next bus leaves in ten minutes," the hero cut it short.
He tapped the end of his white wood staff on the floor three times—a ritual gesture performed more for show and habit than for actual magical necessity. Immediately, a ring of pure light-blue light stretched under his feet, rising along his body. As the luminous blanket passed through him, Black Warlock's figure underwent a radical metamorphosis, shrinking and changing until it revealed the ordinary appearance of Welt Blight, the young and quiet owner of a fairly successful bookstore.
Welt's height settled at five feet seven inches. His skin became that of an ordinary Caucasian guy, his eyes shifted to a standard blue, and his hair turned into a short, permanently messy brown tuft. He barely looked twenty-three. The hero's muscular, tall, and well-built physique had vanished into thin air, replaced by a decidedly leaner frame weighed down by about fifteen pounds of placid body fat. Every single fantasy trait was gone: no fangs, no horns, no trace of black fur on his wrists.
His attire now consisted of a pair of black shoes with worn rubber soles, comfortable loose blue pants, a white T-shirt with the stats of a D&D 5th edition barbarian character sheet printed on the chest, an oversized red hoodie, and simple rectangular glasses with red frames. Around Welt's neck hung a common cloth cell phone pouch. The apparent smartphone tucked inside, however, was none other than the sentient Grimoire disguised to blend in.
"You know, Master... after all, Lola, the union boss's daughter, isn't entirely wrong when she calls you a teddy bear," Sora whispered from the pocket, allowing herself an innocent jab about his weight.
"I know, I know. My magical, furry alter ego is dream material, while my Muggle version is decidedly below average," Welt commented, pushing his glasses up his nose and sighing.
"We should really work on your self-esteem and self-perception," the Grimoire warned him in a worried tone, intent on preventing identity crises. "Blindly loving Black Warlock and finding Welt Blight annoying or boring could become a long-term psychological issue."
"I don't have an identity crisis, Sora," Welt replied, his voice now sounding decidedly more serious, warm, and tired, devoid of the hero's hyperactive and theatrical spark. "Warlock is free to do and say whatever he wants; nothing can stop him because, fundamentally, he has nothing to lose. Welt, on the other hand, is a man like any other. He has a house to maintain, taxes to pay, a shop to run, and payroll to meet for his employees at the end of the month."
"Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote: 'Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains,'" Sora quoted, finding the maxim a perfect fit for the Warlock/Welt duality.
Without wasting any more time on philosophical tangents, the local hero headed down the basement stairs and stepped out into the open air, ready to face the decidedly less dynamic, but equally complex, part of his normal civilian life.
XXX
On the other side of town, inside an elegant residential building temporarily borrowed from owners who had left for a long vacation to visit relatives, two internationally renowned scoundrels had set up shop.
Leonard Snart and Mick Rory. Better known in the world of organized crime as Captain Cold and Heat Wave.
The two supervillains had settled in the house's kitchen. Scattered across the polished marble table were the backlit sheets of a local bank's telemetry data and the sewer system maps of Nightfall City. Right next to the papers, within arm's reach, rested their iconic weapons: Snart's lethal and geometric cold gun, with its bluish metallic finishes, and Rory's heavy, scorched flamethrower, which still smelled of kerosene and chemical accelerant.
"Rory, we're pulling off the heist tonight," Snart declared in his trademark cold, drawling voice, while adjusting a potentiometer on the chassis of his weapon. "Last time, that damn Flash kept us from walking away with the diamonds in Central City. But this town... this town doesn't have a Flash."
Snart had planned every single variable down to the smallest detail. This time, he was mathematically certain that the Fastest Man Alive wouldn't be there to rip through spacetime just to slap handcuffs on his wrists.
"But this place has its own personal hero. Warlock, or something like that," Mick Rory growled, his hoarse, deep voice sounding like it came from a furnace. With his massive hand, scarred by old burns, he gripped a half-empty bottle of warm beer.
"I'm not worried about him in the slightest," Snart dismissed him, lifting his icy gaze from the maps. "He seems like your typical C-list hero in a pathetic C-list town. Did you see the local news this afternoon? The most dangerous supervillain to show up recently is a fifty-year-old, overweight ice cream vendor who built a cream-shooting cannon. We're barely at Condiment King levels in Gotham."
Snart spoke with the absolute certainty of a man who knew his own skills and the perfection of his plans flawlessly. After all, for what absurd reason should Captain Cold—an elite crime veteran accustomed to trading blows with speedsters for years—fear an unknown hero who had appeared less than six months ago?
Very soon, the two of them would get the answer to that question.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
Number one, can I just say that I had so much fun writing this? Honestly, I think complex, dark, and hyper-complicated stories are overrated. They are clearly good, but too many serious things ruin your life. Something simple and lighthearted does you good.
Number two, boring explanation time.
For fans of the Kaleidoscope Adventure series, you might not know this, but I have a sort of personal rule: never make more than two stories for one specific series.
The first story is for a single MC with a variable power level, ranging from people who inherited Galahad's power (Type-Moon) to someone who became the Herrscher of Reason.
The second story can be one of two types.
Number one, a Reverse Isekai about a country or a fortress that arrives in a new world. For example, Fontaine ending up in the MCU, or Kazdel/Rhodes Island in Overlord.
Number two, an MC who is a country-level or world-level threat. For example, the Herrscher of Finality in DC, or the Heavenly Principles in Marvel (I'm just waiting to learn more about this being before writing that story).
Since Marvel and DC are composed of countless comic book series, TV shows, and cartoon series, it feels okay to have multiple stories about them.
XXX
CYOA Interactive build for the MC (■■■, Welt Blight, alias Black Warlock)
**Meta**
You, CYOA, Shards, what are those Shards you speak of?
**Difficulty**
Standard, Higher (Tier 9)
**Scenario & Setting**
AU Alternate Earth, Second Act (Peaceful), Just Better, A Brighter World [Even Greater], No More Planned Obsolescence, Second Trigger, Benign, Powers for Dummies [Curiosity Drive], Nanometers, Son!, Modern Aether (Type-Moon), Tau Expansion Fleet (Warhammer: 40k) x 1, Comic Book Pretty, VFX On [It's a Beautiful World We Have], Huh, isn't that... [Shard Variant, Native Variant], Expy Galore x 3, Additional Genre x 1, DC Animated Universe, Fate/Stay Night, Marvel Universe 8096, City
**Missions**
The War for the Sacred Relic [The Holy Grail War], Knight in Shining Armor
**Character**
Drop-In
**Skills**
Ambidextrous, Spatial Awareness, Mechanical Engineer [Innovating Imagineer], Electronics Engineer, Software Engineering [Savior of the IT department], Information Security, Economics, Lawyer, Doctor [MD in the HOUSE!], Chemistry, Biology, Mathematics, Natural Sciences, Parahuman Science, Learning, Tactics, Strategy, Internal Clock, Occultism, Master Craftsman, Master Housekeeper [Home Management], Lipreading, Management, Financial Savvy [Financial Planning, Practical Minimalist], Body Language, Sign-Language, Polyglot
**Perks**
Blank, Mental Barrier, Legal Identity, Invictus, Well-Adjusted, Cover Story, Double Life, 'Plot' Armor, Thematic, Manton Protected, Ripple Effect Proof Memory [Ripple Effect Proof Body], Hidden Strength [Red Herring], Accentuate the Positive, Eliminate the Negative, Comic Book Physics, Explained, Peaceful Life, World Clean, Serendipitous Luck, Sixth Sense, Inheritable, Heir to the Throne, I Don't Get It [I Get It Now... But Not Really...?], Foreigner, Continuity Of Existence, Those Who Came Before, Practical Experience x 1, Loyalty Insurance
**Drawbacks**
Conscious Geas x 1, Wildbow? Where have I heard that before?, Bound By Blood [Paid In Blood], Slaughterhouse 8, Slaughterhouse 9000, Rogues Gallery, Morsel, Trouble Magnet, Wild Wasteland, Fated Journey, Child of Fate, Plotbound, Stalker x 2, Persistent Suitor, I Will Fix Her, Villain Target, Acclimation, Jet Lag, Snail's Pace, Quarter Pounder, Acclimated, Nemesis, Second Wave Parahumans, Native Awakening, Chaotic Evil x 1, Yandere x 1, Weaker than You x 1, Royal, Rank 1, High-Tier, Rank 1
**Shard**
Shardless
**Powers**
Changer (Ritsuka), Type Red (SCP Foundation), Divine Bloodline (Castlevania) [The Belmont Heir], Abyssal Warlock, Occult [Trained Occultist, Paranormal Sciences], The Mage, Black Mage [Diabolist], Space Magic, Arcane Magic (D&D/Pathfinder), Alchemy (Fullmetal Alchemist), Magecraft (Type-Moon) [Formal Craft, Smart Circuits, Escardos], Mystic Eyes (Type-Moon) [Custom Order Mystic Eyes], Glyphs (The Owl House), Malleable/Smart Soul, Golden Rule (Type-Moon), Pathstrider (Honkai: Star Rail) [Imaginary Circuits, Denizen of Abundance], Magitech, Artificer (D&D), Item Construction (Type-Moon) [Perfect Workshop], Blacksmith of Ancient Eras (Tales Of), [Insert Names] Saves The Day, Territory Creation (Type-Moon), Pioneer of the Stars (Type-Moon), Imperial Privilege (Type-Moon), Epiphany in the Jaws of Death (Type-Moon)
**Objects of Power**
Heirloom Sword Familiar (Castlevania), Vampire Killer (Castlevania), Bag of Holding x 1, Mage's Trappings, The Great Library of Alexandria, Basic Supernatural Guide [Basic Magical Compendium, An Occultists Guide, Evolving Guide], Journal [Medical Journal, Science Journal, Engineer's Journal, Occultist's Journal], Magic for Dummies, Sorcerer's Focus [Sorcerer's Regalia], Adaptive Magus Grimoire (Trinity Seven), A Divine Key (Honkai Impact 3rd), Philosopher's Stone (Fullmetal Alchemist) [Stone From The Realms (Dungons & Dragons)], Treasury
**Fusions & Upgrades**
Bio-Dial, Human Guise, Archon of Flesh, Divine Protection of Sorcery (Re:Zero), Magic Crest (Type-Moon) x 7, Gate of Truth (Fullmetal Alchemist), Alkahestry (Fullmetal Alchemist), Titan Blessed (The Owl House), Space-Time Magic, Singularity; Notes (Type-Moon), Exotic Tools and Resources, Bag of Endless, Preternatural Artifact, Magic for Academics, Demon Lord Factor (Trinity Seven), Essential, Infusion, Fusion, Fission, Growth Item (One Object) x 1, Trained, I Am Worthy! [The Perfect Wielder]
**Equipment & Items**
Coinage x 7, House, Secret Lair
**Point Conversion**
+100 SP -200 CP x 1, +5 SP -10 CP x 1, +2 SP -4 CP x 1, +1 SP -2 CP x 1
XXX
Code for CYOA:
8mhz;0wyi;lyns;nyan;dstd;gzmj;7jfhn0;jfl2;icne;uh4g;42jg;ugys;5r67;bylb;kdw3;cfibzy;akq3;iaed;idmd;TimeRipple;asu7lf;5c80;ps6p;lvrj;plzj;1igo;z4tj;uqzv;paqn;whoknows;Naturalized_Foreigner;49k35s;ccsa;v4w8bv;o4uqlf;0vds;e7iw;xv6q;z8ei;4zss;l7o6;fw91;plxm;inpghf;68wo;9ekf;6vjg;q34q;a67q;l645;20qm;jw7m;ee65;havg;7w44;jhgtp7;9qy5h3;3v6i3m;dw2w43;77bg5i;jftz;fshh;rv72:7;cso6di;v79n;qpxs;r4numd;dgo4px;dim60b:3;c2vezm;ux51;onx3;sm5qhc;rd31ka;wpux;g2un;gdvjby;ei77if;17za;m85g;xm8b7b;Journey_of_a_Lifetime;7vo3;gvsfyn;gcit:2;3npz73;e6gc;ucs6;nlojo6;ooptime;uscv;474z;hn6g;ueg3o6;naroya;r1megi;d0mx;b378;EpiphJawsofDeath;76pb;zjrq5z;8aauoq;gnjtdt;j3dn;typred;ww6xxa;1kl8;glo00l;ToTalkWithAGod;uwk7xw;to2wxa:7;47yx8r;fp56;9xgaie;8wmlnp;91wcm7;hfm4xg;xg4anp;6kip;9gsx;Fission;nrznyc;au1ee2;37s55k;879tl8;um6f;stt7be;n8er;wu6i;BagofEndless;dkxct0;i083od;2wq3g4;6xa3;37737c;f0n4at;3d25;nskd3x;r4yq;uhe5;sd61;xj2g;a7lx;swry;w4im;eqth7x;noMPlnObs_Aoj;gy2s;o53h;tfqs;cojp;xrmr;rrt8;9fl6;np6a;8cwa;d6lj;magic4academics;n9y8i4;83ifwu;e9ricn;aca3;70lg2g;mptff0;bkkpb0;byh33g;596r5v;izf9;rtrd97;2csyr0;64n1;Fix_Her;nlbp2y;9g81;u6fb;qp7g;gk5n;BlackMage;151dg6;8si9;MSSoul;93p3;HeirloomSword