"Damn, what happened to this fucker?" Harvey Bullock asked, looking down at the crime scene before him, police officers walking around, warding off passerbyers who wanted to take pics of the body.

One corpse, gun still in his hands, laid in a chalk outline. Honestly, the body wasn't even that much of a shock, considering this was Gotham on a day that ends in y.

What was interesting was that the GCPD had been expecting the stiff to have a bullet in their skull, standard mugging gone too far. Not an armed corpse with its head caved in.

"Not quite sure yet, Harvey. But it sure looks like his head got bashed in." Leslie Thompkins said, examining the splatter of blood on the ground.

"Hell, I could've told yeah that, Les." Harvey said, lighting his cigar. It may be only two in the afternoon, but he had a feeling it was going to be one of those cases…

Leslie sighs. "Yeah, well it's the best I've got right now. Only one gun shot from his gun, but looking at the bruising from the recoil, that's also when his brain got splattered, or there's about."

Harvey groaned. "And since he died with it in his hand, that means that he was taken down quickly, or else we would've found more bullets."

"Right. And looking at the way the skull caved in, we might just be dealing with someone who has Venom in their system."

"What makes you say that?" Harvey asked, an eyebrow raised.

"From the blood splatter, this was done with two hits, one on each side of his face."

"Yup, definitely Venom."

--

I couldn't summon Philip.

Which made sense, considering he's still with the 'original' (called such if only to differentiate ourselves from one another) Adam White in Atela. Still, it was off putting to not have the little sprite pop up at my beck and call, considering how useful he'd been.

Which is why I'd stolen a brass bowl about a foot in diameter. It was actually pretty easy, nabbed it right out of the back storage of a Home Depot. I was going to grab some of the wood to take with me too, but honestly it would've been a pain dragging it back to my hideout and keeping it from being suspicious.

Also, apparently school is mandatory in this world. I had to draw on my more fey-ish presence to convince the police officer that I wasn't skipping class, just taking a year off.

The glamor wasn't as powerful as say Dominate Person, which I had been considering, but this way he wouldn't be questioning his actions and turn back around to arrest me.

I'd have to avoid cops in the future…

Anywho, got the brass bowl, bought a few packets of seeds with stolen cash, cast Plant Growth to supercharge them to full health in the little strip of dirt out back, stole a bag of charcoal, bought some incense from a beauty shop, bing band boom I'm ready to cast!

Well, not completely ready. Usually when I cast Find Familiar, I already have Philip in mind. This would be like the first time… but with the first time, I had been Oberon's latest champion-slash-chess-piece. I didn't know anyone in this place's version of the Feywild, if such a place even existed.

Would I be bound to this planar system's version of Oberon? Forced into a new contract with some new fey lord or lady? Would I even be able to reach the Feywild in a world that didn't believe in magic? Would being in such a city surrounded by irons, salts, and metals interfere with the ritual? I could bind a small celestial or demon into my service… but there's also no telling how that would work out.

But, I am a warlock. A boy-witch that held a chain pact with the fey. Not having a familiar at my side made me weaker.

So I kneel down on one of my stolen pillows, arranged the sticks of incense, piled up the mound of coal, plucked the herbs I needed, and lit the offering, beginning my ritual.

First comes the hand gestures, the continuous repetitions of tuts and finger movements that fine tuned the intent and purpose of the spell. Opening a doorway to the Feywild.

Two fists together, almost as if I was praying. Spreading the fingers so all my fingers were straight, in the position of prayer. Splitting the tips of my fingers away from each hand, my wrists still touch. Curling my fingers back into the original two fists. Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Of course, it wasn't an uninteresting experience, casting this ritual. I could feel the energies of the abandoned building around me, the scraps of nature that existed in this abandoned area, the offering I'd prepared, slowly swirling around me.

And watching as small purple sigils and lines drew themselves in the air was always an interesting sight.

Ten minutes pass.

Thirty.

An hour. And it is only then, when I feel the shifting in the air, and the fire burns green that I speak.

"I call thee, spirits of the world.

I call thee, gods and goddesses of divine nature.

I call thee, satyrs, nymphs, dryads, sylphs.

I call thee, Lords and Ladies, Monarchs of the Fey.

I demand thee, spirits of revelry and instinct, decorum and magicks of old.

I demand your attention, for I am a warlock, born of man.

I demand your respect, for I have reached for you, bound you, and called for you.

I demand your loyalty, for I shall give you safe passage in exchange for hospitality.

I demand your obedience, for I am great and powerful.

Come to me, oh fey. Come to me, oh spirits. Come to me, oh gods of the wild.

Come to me, I call, I demand.

Do you hear me and obey?"

And it's here that I close my eyes.

--

And I hear the fluttering of a thousand tiny wings.

"We hear and obey! We hear and obey! We hear and obey!"

Thousands of voices call to me, and I open my eyes to find myself in the center of a large oak tree, shaped into a reception hall of sorts.

And all around me, are sprites, fairies, and pixies flittering to and fro in a frenzy of wings and bodies.

"I call the Feywild for a retainer, a companion, a servant! If you are not willing to spend my lifetime bound to me, then be gone from this place!"

The crowd of fey lessen as some of them leave. Some simply disperse in mist, fire, or grass clippings. Some fly away. Some disappear behind their brethren and don't come out the other end.

"I call to the Feywild for a spy, a warrior, a fighter! If you are not willing to feel the pain of iron and the burning of salts, then be gone from this place!"

More disappear this time.

"I call to the Feywild as a being of power, a being of magic, a warlock of the forest! If you will not serve me and strike away all other loyalties, then be gone or be devoured by those that shall."

Thisgot them stirred up into a frenzy. A maddened frenzy of blood and gore.

Needle-sized swords disembowel those that would try to flee. Pointed teeth rip and shred at wings and flesh. Claws slice out at throats and claw out eyes.

Fey are still fey, no matter how small and innocent seeming.

In the end, maybe fifteen fey-lings remain.

"To those that live still, present to me your truest form."

Eight of them shift from beautiful sprites into crooked monsters of wood and insect wings. One of them even looks to be a cobbled together straw puppet.

"Be burned, you who would dare gaze upon this holy rite."

The straw puppet bursts into purple flames.

"Take your leave, fey of shadow and night. I can not trust one who does not show me their truth without prompt."

And so, the seven Unseelie fairies disappear into the shadows, leaving me with seven familiar candidates out of the hundreds that'd originally answered my call.

"I ask of you, fairies of the fey. Why would you serve me?"

Each of them answers in turn, going clockwise around me.

"Privilege!"

"Power!"

"Fame!"

"Survival!"

"Food!"

"Pleasure!"

"Wine!"

"Begone you who seek mortal wines. Begone you my human line. Begone you who seek magic not owed to you."

The ones who cried out Power, Pleasure, and Wine all flitter away.

"You who seek survival. Speak."

"I have stolen from the satyr's gardens, and seek refuge in the mortal realm!"

"Begone, shameless thief, for you have wrought your own doom."

The pixie vanishes.

"You who seek nurishment. Speak."

"My colony has been biset by famine! I have not eaten in years, and desire to taste once more!"

The funny thing about this ritual is that none can disobey or lie to me here, not without being banished to whence they came. But that doesn't mean they can't be untruthful.

"And what would you have me feed thee?"

"Flesh and blood, freshly slain!"

"Burn, creature of gluttony, who has gorged themselves on the blood of their brethren, for I have no quarry for traitors."

And so, this sprite bursts into flames.

Two left.

"You who seek glory. Speak."

"I shall be the one to carve my name into the flesh of your enemies! I shall be your partner, your warrior, your guard, for I shall serve you with my life!"

Promising.

"You who seek honor. Speak."

"It would be an honor to serve you, m' lord."

... How interesting.

"I am not a fey lord or lady, Honor Seeker."

"You are higher than me, and so you are a lord."

The faerie bows down in respect. It's a very strong show of loyalty and faith, considering he'd just placed himself within my power, knowingly, willingly, happily.

"Why shall you serve?"

"To bring you victory. To assist you in all things. To be your servant."

...Aaaah. This one is the fey's equivalent of a masochist. One who wishes to serve for the sake of serving. No ambition, no drive to improve their ranking in the Seelie Court. A simple submissive nature.

And it seems the one who sought glory already knows my decision.

"You may take your leave, one who seeks glory. A most generous offer has been made."

The faerie nods its head and disappears in a flash of light.

"I shall name, bind, and shackle you as per the agreement."

"Yes! My lord!"

"I name you Honor Seeker, Servant of Adam White, Warlock of the Fey, so that you may serve. I bind you to my service with the name of Herb, so that you shall not die. I shackle you to your position, with the name of slave, so that you may not run.

You serve me and me alone, now and forever."

--

As I open my eyes, the magical energy around the bowl petters out, the ritual over and done with.

"Oh god, my back…" Yeah, bending over backwards because you fall into a magic trance wasn't fun the first time, and it isn't fun now.

Straightening out the kinks in my back, I glance around. No sign of Herb…

But seeing as it's midnight right now, I'd summon him in the morning.

--

"M'lord! M'lord!" A small slightly squeaky voice called to me.

"Mmmmm…." I roll over, gaining a small yelp from the squeaky voice.

"M-M'lord! Don't squish me!"

I opened an unseeing eye to the voice, and looked down to see what was being pushed between me and my sleeping bag.

"...Herb? That you?"

"Yes, m'lord!"

I carefully pick him up and place him to the side of my sleeping bag. "Your new form is very pretty."

What I saw in the ritual-induced-vision was a generalization. I saw the indistinct outline generalization of a no name Seeline fairy. I could recognize that it was a small human-like entity of around a few inches high, but things like gender and appearance depended heavily upon what semblance of personality they could craft before being named, what they're named themselves, and the ones who named them.

Things with no names in the Feywild, particularly the fey, act more like descriptions than an entity. You could find a no name pixie and slap a few adjectives on it, and it would start taking on those adjectives. I myself had given herb minimal input with his base form through his True Name, Honor Seeker, and his common name, Herb, but it still formed a lot of his appearance. He seeks honor, so he must be noble like. He is named Herb, therefore he must be green. It still gave him quite a bit of room to work with though, and I approved of his design.

"T-Thank you very much, m'lord!"

Oh hey, so the feycanblush.

I breathe in...and out.

"Herb, can you grab one of the sandwiches from my bag? It's warm in my sleeping bag and I don't want to move."

"Yes!"

It's strangely adorable, watching Herb seriously fly off to get me my breakfast.

I guess even the fey have their cute sides, huh?

--

Having a familiar that could scout for you was invaluable, in a professional adventuring party. They were easily revived and changed to suit most terrains, and nobody questioned the black cat skittering through the alleyway at night if they saw it at all.

But warlocks with a chain pact, we were a thousand times better. No limit to our telepathic range, familiars that could shapeshift and turn invisible, not even touching upon the usefulness of our familiars being intelligent beings that could talk back and converse with us.

...shit, I'm getting lonely without my friends.

M'lord, why aren't there any stars in the sky? I can feel them still, but they are hidden from my sight.

Telepathy was probably the only way I could talk with Herb in public. Back in Atela, speaking with a sprite in public would get looks, both of awe and fear. But here, in a world that doesn't believe in magic, it's something that should be kept secret I think.

I don't know, Herb. The best thing I could come up with is someone very powerful placing a veil in the sky to hide them from mortal eyes.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time magic had been used to change the world. But to steal the very image of stars...was it a way of harnessing their stellar energies or preventing them from reaching the planet?

Have you looked to see if you could undo the foul magic?

No, I have not looked into the intricacies of flight, so I can't get close enough to assess it.

I see… I could fly up if you so desire?

Thank you, Herb, but I think you would merely be imitating Icarus. Besides… smelling the dirty air of this world... it's possible the veil is not mystic in nature.

But for mortals to produce that much trash...it's inconceivable, the gods and the very world would never allow such a thing without retribution.

M'lord, distracted woman. Just to your left, speaking into that mortal contraption, big red hat.

I see her.

My hand slips into her pocket and pulls out her wallet.

"And tell- HEY!"

Oh my, usually I'm not this clumsy as to get caught…

I started running.

"Get back here you thief!" The woman screeched, her heels working against her in this impromptu chase.

Impressively, they don't snap under the pressure.

I quickly open the shiny piece of leatherwork, grab the green slips of paper that somehow had monetary value in this world, and three the wallet back at her face, distracting her long enough for me to slip on a new illusion, nobody seeing me walk right past her as she screamed in anger.

--

"...sixty, eighty, eighty five bucks." I counted out before slipping the money into my boot.

"Is that a lot of money?" Herb asked, pausing his meal of one of those sugar cookies they sold in a plastic roll.

"I think so, but not really? The students from that noble school seem to get several hundred dollars as a monthly allowance, but they'renoblesso it's probably a decent amount for just pocket change."

"I see… should we target them, then, instead of mere commoners walking the street?"

"No, stealing from nobles is never worth the trouble if they catch a decent look of my face. And with technology being able to continuously scry different locations, it wouldn't surprise me if their homes had some type of alarm. And we can't pickpocket them because they all ride in those horseless carriages they call cars."

Honestly, those things werefast.

"What if you were to sneak in as a student?"

I hum, tilting my head in thought. "It's an idea. Though I imagine I'd have to borrow a face of someone around my height to make it work. If anything, I'd probably send you in to steal things under your invisibility."

Herb immediately perks up. "It would be a great honor, to provide for you M'lord!"

I smile, and pet him with a finger. "Sure, why not. We have enough food and water to last us a day or two. Might as well have some fun."

--

"Oh my Geee, did you see that dress Kimberly Kelly wore in that episode?! It was sooo pretty!"

"Man, she had the biggest pair of tits…"

"Oh wow, where did you get this nail polish, I've been looking for a shade like this forever, and..."

Yup. Noble children. Seen them once, you've seen them all.

I looked through Herb's eyes as he darted through the hallway invisible to all around him.

"-he game las…"

"Tony has to be lying."

"Think you can help me with…"

In all fairness, M'lord, not all of them to be so… unfocused on their studies.

And it's not like they were in class, just talking and walking to their next classes or wherever.

It was a shame that most of their wallets only seemed to have pictures, and cards with numbers on them. Maybe it was a status thing? The more fancy the card, the more important you were?

Wait a minute… don't people use these cards to buy stuff? With a signature?

Was it a tax thing? Or maybe someone counted out what they bought with it to bill them all at once at a later date?

Should I steal one of them, M'lord?

No, no, if they're signing off on purchases there's probably someone who looks over it to make sure it's legitimate. I could try forging it, but that would just be too much work if they can trace my purchases. Just stick to what cash you can find.

Understood.

--

'What cash you could find' ended up being just short of five thousand dollars.

I whistled.

"Nobles sure are rich, huh."

I feel like the hundred dollar bills are important...

--

The lunch bell rung out, and the students of Gotham Academy all filtered out of their classrooms to go to the cafeteria in a calm and orderly manner.

Not.

"Come on, come on, where is it!?"

"I didn't take it man, mine's gone too!"

"I know you stole it, Sabrina, you've always been jealous of me and my daddy's money!"

Dick Grayson looked around the room, watching his classmates freak out in their standard overblown theatrics. Honestly, as if their home lives and the tabloids weren't dramatic enough for them... "What's got them all worked up?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently someone's gone around pickpocketing wallets all across school." Barbara Gordon said, patting her own pocket to make sure she still had her own.

"Seriously? Who would be stupid enough to steal so many wallets with cameras and bodyguards everywhere?" Dick asked, grabbing his lunch that Alfred had prepared for him.

"No idea, but they've got so many people riled up that they're almost certainly going to be expelled." Barbara said, walking with her friend to eat out in the courtyard.

Only to be stopped by a crowd of students all looking at something on the central sidewalk.

Dick and Barbara looked at one another, before pushing through the crowd to see what was all the fuss.

Apparently nobody wanted to touch the pile of stolen wallets.

--

"Why do you think they just left them there? I mean, the police will have to find their fingerprints on them, right?" Dick asked as he slurped on some more of Alfred's homemade stir fry.

"I don't know. Maybe they thought it would be better to blow it off as a prank instead of a stealing spree?" Barbara shrugged as she ate her own microwaved spaghetti.

Dick chuckled. "Maybe. I'm just glad they didn't steal my wallet."

"How do you know? You haven't brought it out since I told you about it." Barbara teases with a sly grin.

The ward of Bruce Wayne snorts, reaching into his pocket. "As if. I'm way too turbed for someone to have…"

He reaches into his other pocket.

Barbara was trying not to laugh.

He stood up and patted down all of his pockets.

"Hahahaha, oh god, you got pickpocketed!"

Impossible. He was trained by Bruce to always be aware of his surroundings, to not let a single detail escape his notice. It should've been impossible for someone to pickpocket him without him realizing it.

--

"Mmm, this world has nice hot chocolate…"

And this is probably the first thing I've eaten/drunk in this world that wasn't stolen.

C-can I try some, M'lord?

Sure, sure. Be careful, it's hot.

And as I pass my cup of hot chocolate to Herb, it vanishes from sight. I could still see it of course, but only because Herb was my familiar.

Ooooh, it's so sweet!

I should really find a shower. People were staring at me a bit.

Pfft. As if there would be anywhere a homeless kid like me could shower without breaking into someone's house.

--

Huh. Homeless shelters. What a weird concept.

I'm sorry, you're from what?

Still, it has decently warm water and a place to do your laundry on the cheap side of free as long as you were careful not to get your shit stolen.

Not quite sure why I was getting funny looks though. Maybe I should've used a glamour after all...

I was just toweling off my hair, wearing fresh stolen clothes while I waited for my load of laundry to be dried by this impressive feat of innovation…

"Excuse me."

I look up to the woman with a clipboard and a suit.

"My name is Natalie Love, and I'm from Child Protective Services."

I'm sorry, you're from what?