The illusion of running

"Thank you. It is a pleasure doing business with you." Jake said, paying the man several thousand dollars extra, before walking out of the dealership and driving off in his car. Although the man was pleased by the generosity of this Mr. Sparrow, he would later come to regret selling the car to him when he lost his job.

Jake Marksport, aka Tipare Sparrow, cruised down the highway at an incredible clip. This is why he needed a sports car, he was pushing it for all it was worth. The speedometer read that he was going 245 MPH. Not bad, not bad at all. Especially considering that the feds were certainly less than an hour behind him.

Today wasn't a bad day for Jake, but it wasn't an easy day either. A police officer started tailing him, so he pulled over. When the officer addressed him, he knew that this guy was going to be easy to take care of the usual way.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm going to need to see a driver's license and proof of registration." The officer said. Calmly, Jake handed him his license, and started talking to him.

"Well, officer, isn't it a wonderful day for a drive? I just got this car and wanted to test its performance. Do you like it? It's pretty nice, right?"

"Yes, sir this is a rather nice car, but do you know how fast you were going?"

"Why of course I do! I was going all of a whopping 65 miles per hour, wasn't I? Ah, such a shame, knowing it could go so much faster. Wait, is that why I got pulled over? Oh, that's it isn't it! It's illegal to have one of the fastest cars in the world and not drive as fast as it can go, am I right? Or, wait, was it something else? Maybe a broken tail-light?"

"Yes sir. It's fine that you were going 65, and really you should do well to keep it at that speed. It was the taillight that got you pulled over Mr. Valquez. You need to make sure you get it replaced as soon as possible."

"But I just replaced it, officer, does that mean we're good to go?" The officer walked around to the back of the car and saw the taillight of the vehicle was working. Walking around to the door again, the officer thanked him for taking care of the light. "Of course, officer. Safety is the most important thing. Could you possibly do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it you need Mr. Valquez?"

"Well, it's just there is going to be a car coming along this route with a federal license plate soon. It'll probably be driving much faster than the speed limit in the same general direction as I am. I'm concerned about the safety of all parties on the road. Please make sure other drivers are safe, mention to them the speed limit if they don't follow it."

"Now, sir, I would care to remind you that it is my job to pull over people who are suspicious or driving dangerously. If anyone passes me by, I will make sure they know the rules of the road. I don't need you to remind me of my job!"

"Of course, officer. I'm sorry, I know you work hard to protect us all. You're a hero, you put your life at risk every day you leave for work. You even make those judgment calls when people are armed and dangerous. I should never have doubted you. Have a good day!" The police officer waved goodbye, and watched Jake as he drove off at a ludicrous speed.

Getting back in his own patrol car, the Officer Miller was not surprised at all when shortly afterward, the exact vehicle Mr. Valquez had mentioned went speeding past at several hundred miles per hour. Enraged by this act of outright endangerment of citizens, Officer Miller chased them down, pulling them over. When he went to talk to them, they pulled out their badges.

"Listen, Officer Miller" Jason Spectre said while glancing at the police officer's nametag, "I desperately need to keep moving. A suspect in a federal crime is on the move, and the longer you hold us up, the farther ahead of us he gets. We need you to cooperate with us."

Of course, Officer Miller was prepared for this. When he was in training, it was clearly stated the procedures he had  to follow in situations like robberies, hold ups and the like. Removing the clasp on his holster, Officer Miller calmly tried to convince the criminals to lower their weapons.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put that down" Miller stated calmly. Jason put down his badge, hoping the officer was listening to reason. Jason's partner, Felicia, reached for the bottle of water she had between their seats

"Alright, so I am guessing we're good to go, now? Will you let me go so I can catch the guy?" Jason asked, unsure if the police officer was really cooperating or not.

Seeing the accomplice trying to pull a gun from between the car seats, Officer Miller snatched the gun out of his holster, with one swift movement turning the safety off, and pointed it at the criminals. He ordered them to put their weapons down. The female crook wasn't responding to demands. When the female failed to listen, Officer Miller had no choice but to fire, but at least he would be a hero, saving millions of innocent civilians. One clean shot, and the woman's left hand was torn through by the red hot sting of a bullet.

The water bottle exploded in her hand, and bloody water spattered all over Felicia. Instinctively, she grabbed her gun from her right side, beside her, and fired at the police officer. She hit his shoulder, but it wasn't the one he was using to hold the gun. He shot back, this time the result was fatal. Jake was disappointed, there was only one option left he could think of.

"Officer Miller, you have a message" Jason said, pressing the button on the side of his car that turned on the stereo. A blaring electronic sound came from the car speakers, and the police officer froze in place. A few moments later, he seemed to come to his senses. "You have been manipulated, and killed a federal agent while aiding in the escape of a federal criminal."

"I don't know, what happened? Why am I standing here? No, no, I didn't shoot. Surely I didn't shoot. This can't be." Officer Miller was going through a mental breakdown. This was one of the well-known side effects of the MSRA, Mind Sweep Restoration Apparatus. He just relived all the moments since he was hypnotized as they actually happened. He was realizing he was a murderer, having no reason to kill anyone today. Miller wasn't the first, and probably not the last if this pace kept up.

Jake arrived at the hotel he planned to stay the night at. Pulling out a real $100 bill, he asked if it would be enough to cover a night. The clerk laughed, saying he should try more, like three of them. Thanking the clerk for the information, he quickly slipped the $100 into a pocket, grabbing three slips of poorly adorned paper. Handing them to the clerk, he asked what his room number would be.

Taking the $300 Mr. Sparrow offered, Marvin handed him the key to room 425. Instructing him on the usual procedures of the hotel, he asked the man if he wanted any services (wake up call, turn down), but the man replied that he would be doing perfectly fine by himself. He seemed very gracious. Before the man could leave, Marvin mentioned to him that there was a minibar located in his hotel room, and that the first two items from within it were at no charge. Then pulling out a counterfeit bill marker, Marvin ran the marker over the notes. When the marker crossed the bill, it changed... the bill seemed to waver a bit, although still on the desk. Suddenly, the bills turned into paper with the number 100 scrawled on the front and back in poor handwriting.

"Excuse me, sir!" Marvin called out, while hitting a button beneath the desk. If the man didn't pay him, he was going to flip the now-active silent alarm switch. The man turned around, and walked calmly back. Thinking to himself about how smug this counterfeit bastard was, acting like he owned the place, he confronted the man about how the bills were obviously fake.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, fake?" Keeping calm, Jake assessed the situation. He glanced at the desk, and saw there was a counterfeit detection marker laying down on it. Obviously this clerk hadn't fully believed that he had such copious amounts of cash with him, or he wouldn't have broken free of the illusion. Honestly, counterfeit detection markers, small details, sometimes these were enough for the average person to disbelieve his otherwise well-crafted deceptions.

"I'm talking about how you gave me three scraps of paper with 100 written on them. If you do not pay, I will have to ask you to return your room key, please." Marvin responded, angry that this man was even looking to deny having given him fake money. However, in the time he had taken to mention this, something else was nagging at the back of Marvin's mind. How, given his lifelong experience with money, how could he have mistaken those slips of paper for the real thing?

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry! I seem to have accidentally given you some of the scrap paper I had in my pocket! I have a hard time keeping up with what I have stored where in my pockets sometimes. I bet those had my important phone numbers on them, didn't they?" Jake replied. The man at the counter seemed to completely balk at his suggestion, but when he looked at the slips of paper again, a shocked expression flashed across his face before he seemed to turn red from embarrassment.

"My most heartfelt apologies. Here, let me take those from you, I need those numbers. In exchange, here is the payment for my room." Jake handed him three genuine bills this time. They were only three dollars, but being actual money, they wouldn't cause the same problem as the paper fakes had. Taking the three slips of paper back, he watched as the man ran the marker over each bill. When the color didn't change, he assumed they were real. Technically, he was right. They just weren't the same monetary value as he believed they were.

"Umm, sorry about the mix-up. I should have noticed that earlier. I mean, umm, I would hate to think that I might have taken your important numbers." Marvin said, confused. How had he made two huge errors like that. He could have sworn that the original transaction had money, but then suddenly it was just paper. He also would have sworn that the numbers scrawled on the paper had all been 100s, but when he looked a second time, they were various phone numbers in elaborate handwriting. Surely he couldn't be wrong about that too. What was the most odd was that the gentleman, Mr. Sparrow, had a reasonable explanation for all of it. The bills he had handed over were authentic, at least. In the back of his mind, Marvin was still worried though, something just felt wrong.

Jake headed up to his room. Enjoying his first free beverage from the minibar, he turned on the news. A report was on about a little girl who had been abducted earlier in the week. After that, they gave the weather forecast. It looked to be a relatively pleasant week. As Jake prepared to turn off the television and write up a few last-minute provisions, there was a local news report about a police officer who apparently shot a federal officer. Jake recognized the weak-minded fool immediately, it was the same officer whom he had tricked just earlier that day. Jake thought to himself that news travels fast.

"Officer Miller has not yet made any official statement. The chief of police has stated that a formal investigation of the surrounding events has begun. For more details about this and other news, visit our websit..." The newscaster reported. Jake turned off the television. Moving over to the small table in his room, he pulled out a pen and some paper from the drawer on his bedside table, and began to write a quick note.

An hour later, Marvin still had that strange feeling at the back of his mind that something wasn't right. He opened the register again, and took out the $100 bills. Running the marker over them again, he still saw no result. Then, holding the bills up to the light to look at the watermark, they once again seemed strange. However, they were legitimately $100, except for that feeling he had. He took a closer look by holding the bills up to the desk lamp, and saw the bills change from $100 each to a single dollar each. He suddenly held in his hand an amazing $3, leaving him shorted by $297 of what he should have been paid. He hurriedly pressed the button again, re-arming the silent alarm, but this time he flipped the switch too. The police would soon be on their way to arrest the crook.

Driving around, Jason wasn't having any luck trying to locate where the felon had gone. Suddenly, his scanner picked up a dispatch call for the local police. Turning the radio up, he overheard the location, figuring that at the very least he could head there and see if the dispatch had anything to do with the man he was looking for.

"We have a two one one Sam on 601 West Arenas Road..." The dispatcher said, Jason knew that was a hotel. Given that his target had been on the move for over 18 hours, it was likely that he might have stopped for the night. Also, the dispatch code was for a silent alarm, which might be caused if he had tried to pay with mind-tricks instead of actual money. Jason headed to the desert springs hotel.


When Jason arrived, he asked the clerk about the alarm, noting that there didn't seem to be a disturbance in the lobby. The clerk, after seeing Jason's badge, gave him the information he requested. When Jason arrived at room 425, he used the keycard the clerk had given him. Opening the door cautiously, he pulled out his gun. The man was tricky, and Jason didn't want to give him a chance for any funny business.


Jake was still sitting at the table, just out of view of the door when he heard a click from the lock, as someone began to open it. Figuring it was probably his pursuers, he began to read what he had written aloud.


Jason heard a man in the room start speaking, but at first he couldn't make out what was being said. As he jumped around the corner with his gun in his hand, he was startled to see Jake Marksport sitting quietly at a table, reading something aloud.


"Stand up, and turn around, now!" Jason yelled. Jake Marksport continued reading what he had written, and Jason repeated his warning, preparing to fire should Jake fail to comply with his demands again. Jake stopped reading, and stood up. Lifting his hands, he turned around very slowly.


"I never thought you would capture me so easily. I've been on the run for just over 18 hours, and somehow you managed to catch me. I must say, I am more impressed by how efficient our Federal Agents are every hour. You are certainly an exemplary man. May I ask your name?" Jake said calmly.


"You don't need to know my name... get down on the floor, and put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest." Jason started, but Jake interrupted him before he could finish.


"Now, now, no need to be pushy, I'll do what you say, but please just tell me your name first. After all, you already know everything about me. Surely you could at least give me that?" Jake said as he calmly moved into the position on the floor he had been told to take.


"You can call me Spectre. Now..." Jason was going to finish following the procedure, but once again, Jake interrupted.


"I'm sorry to hear about your partner. I heard about it on the news. It's sad to lose someone you work closely with. Hey, at least now you've done what you were assigned to do, right? Surely that honors her memory. Strange, though, how she was killed. I wonder how that happened. I didn't catch the details." Jake said, with the sound of sincerity. 


Jason demanded that Jake remain quiet, and he finished reciting his rights. He led Jake out of the building, and took him to the cruiser, placing him in the back. It was unusual to have someone so willing to comply, so Jason asked him why he had come so willingly. Jake's answer was simple.


"You win some, you lose some. I know when I've lost. Honestly, there was no way for me to escape. There was only one door out of that room, and we were on the fourth story, there was no way I was going to get away from you. Besides, I have respect for anyone who can manage to accomplish what you have."


Jason took Jake back to headquarters, thinking about how his partner had died a meaningless death at the hands of a police officer working with his target. Somehow this felon had contacts in the law enforcement. Jason suddenly felt strange. That wasn't right. Jason thought about it. There was almost no chance that Jake Marksport had known that police officer. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't tell what it was. As Jason reached headquarters, he was getting more concerned about the case. Jake Marksport, after doing all that running, had just given up. That didn't seem normal either.


"At least I still got my two free drinks out of that mini-bar before I left." Jake said in an offhand manner. Jason thought about the hotel, they could handle the cost of two drinks. That was nothing compared to several hundred dollars. Thinking back to the room, Jason suddenly realized that he had only seen one bottle on the table. Turning on his console-tv, he tuned it into the news, and saw a report about a man having mistakenly tripped a silent alarm. 


"Wait, mistakenly tripped? But that clerk had obviously done the right thing. You were trying to fool him somehow, right?" Then it hit Jason, the hypnosis, the slight of hand, the ways that Jake Marksport had managed to get as far as he had. Turning around in his seat, he checked the back, and saw that Jake was still sitting there, with a smile on his face.


"What's wrong, Jason? You look a little pale! Are you ok?" Jake said, expressing an obviously disdainful concern. Jason asked him a single question, the one question that would help him clear his mind.


"You called me Jason. I never told you my first name. How did you know it?" Jason asked. Jake didn't respond, and Jason knew that he had probably had been tricked. Suddenly, Jason remembered the system. Turning off the console's TV, he turned on the MSRA. A screech melted his vision, and he suddenly relived everything that had just happened.


"Stand up, and turn around, now!" Jason yelled. Jake Marksport continued reading what he had written, and Jason repeated his warning, preparing to fire should Jake fail to comply with his demands again. Jake stopped reading, and stood up. 

"I must comply to your demands, or you'll shoot me, so I do. I comply. I must say how very impressed I am. Would you tell me your name?" Jake said, as he turned around.

"You can call me Spectre."

"I see, Mr. Spectre. I'm sorry to hear about your partner. I heard about it on the news. It's sad to lose someone you work closely with. Hey, at least now you've done what you were assigned to do, right? Surely that honors her memory. I don't know the details, but I heard about it. But what would I know, right?" Jake said, moving over to the mini-bar. As he opened it, pulling out his second beverage.


"So, tell me how you figured out where I am. After all, you can clearly see I'm doing exactly what you want. I'm totally helpless, and giving into your demands. You'll probably be taking me away soon, so just a bit more info before we go." Jake demanded.


"Police scanner, silent alarm, it was a hunch, needed to find you. Why aren't you resisting?" Jason replied, the question making plenty of sense to Jake. With a smile on his face, Jake watched Jason walk out the door. Following behind him a short distance, he replied.


"You win some, you lose some. I know when I've lost. Surely, there was no way for me to escape. There was only one door out of that room, and we were on the fourth story, there was no way I was going to get away from you. Besides, I have respect for anyone who can manage to accomplish what you have. Did you know that this hotel gave me two free drinks from the minibar in my room? I think that's a nice touch. They have both been very good. Goodbye, Mr. Spectre." As the doors to the elevator closed, Jason glimpsed the note Jake had put in his pocket.


When he came to his senses, Jason realized that he had been driving back with an empty cruiser. Checking his pocket, he read the note that had been stashed there.


"You shall find that you are hypnotized, normally, I don't use this type of directness, but you're a special case, aren't you? After I have stopped reading this note, you will suddenly find that I am giving you verbal information that will be completely true, and I have no doubt that you shall find it all very useful." The note said, however, there was something scribbled on the back, which Jake had obviously not read when he was in the room with Jason.


"Well, I'll be finding out your name soon, by the time you have read this, you will most likely be quite some distance from me. I wouldn't worry too much about trying to find me. I am, after all, quite an ingenious fellow. I could probably evade pursuit for as long as I need. You may be wonder why I did what you consider a 'felony'. Truth be told, I wanted to challenge myself. Surpassing one's own limits is surely the path to greatness. I'll remember you fondly, whomever you might be. Maybe one day, we'll meet again. Should that happen, I hope you remember fondly all the time we spent together. Sincerely, Jake Marksport"

Finals week

Waking up in a cold sweat, David was not surprised that once again when trying to sleep he had nightmares. The past several weeks, he had been plagued by them. Looking out his window, he thought he saw one of them still grazing about in the front yard. The pesky horses known to cause bad dreams seemed to have migrated into the general area of his bedroom. Most likely they grazed outside his window at night.

Getting up in an attempt to get ready for his tedious day, David was unsure what he would make of his situation. It was the last day of his wizardry exams. He had studied several of the classes' materials in depth, but on other things he just hadn't had time. Of course, the big problems were the papers. Two of his courses required lengthy papers, which had to be written via spell but contain original content. One of them wasn't so bad, the review on the effects of various arcane forces on several spells designed specifically for the purpose of artistic expression and entertainment. He had, naturally, finished that paper, but the other paper he was only halfway finished writing.

Looking over his parchment, he saw several areas where we was sufficiently devoid of content. He had to teleport to his class right away to turn in the finished essay. In several minutes, his spell was completed, and he found himself being pulled along through non-space by arcane forces at an incredible clip. Only wizards and a few sorcerers could travel by teleportation though, in truth many people had purchased trinkets from a number of high-class wizards that allowed them to teleport at will. Technically speaking, it only seemed like teleportation to the observer, but the actual art of teleportation spells were difficult to manage. They threw the teleporting person out on the other side with terrible accuracy. If the person doing an actual teleportation spell wasn't careful, they could find themselves in some very undesirable places, but that was not important for David to think upon.

The other paper was important, so while he was being rushed onward by the arcane, he brooded upon his other paper. This paper, which accounted for a huge portion of his final grade for that class, was supposed to be a list of somatic components, spell components (with price), verbal components, and description of effect for a new spell. That's right, the final for the class was to essentially design a new spell which could be castable (even if it wasn't possible with the current known elements). He didn't have to prove that it could be cast, and the ingredients could be as exotic or common as he chose. The somatic and verbal components could be as lengthy or as short as necessary too. The point was that there should be a desirable effect, and in magical theory it should work. Undoubtedly this was the most complex assignment he had ever faced, with the exception of the curses class he took the previous semester.

Thinking back on the curses class made him sick. He had passed it, somehow. He wasn't really sure what it was that had led to his passing the class, considering how poorly he performed in class. His curses class had been a headache. It had also been boils, warts, loss of hair, accelerated tooth decay, blindness, and at one point a coma. Seriously, he was almost positive that he was going to fail the class. The teacher had thought that the best way to learn how to cast the curse was to see them while being cast, and to experience the effects firsthand. Every student in the class had been horribly violated by the witch who was teaching. The first week seemed fine, but that was only the intro to the class, where she spoke about the theory behind curses. David supposed that if the entire class had been like that, he would have handled it just fine. Instead, the very next week she cast blindness and deafness on the class, with a verbal component on blindness and a somatic component on deafness that each made them expire by the next class period. The horror of it all was enough to start mumbling amongst the students. Then came the hair loss, then boils, then warts... these led to several students dropping out of the class, in hopes that when they took it the following semester, they could sign up for the class with the other professor (which supposedly was a delightful time). When the class content began to favor tooth decay and coma, one student was so horrified that he left the class immediately, and never returned. Word of the horrors of this class eventually reached the ears of the dean, and he instructed the professor that she needed to avoid casting such serious curses on the students for the sake of their learning. She ended up not teaching the paralysis curse and the torture curse on the students, but she still required that they all knew how to perform them.

Ultimately, the students that survived the course came away scarred, but with good grades. The students supposed that she might have been forced to change her grades, or lose her job. Regardless of why she gave passing grades, the students didn't complain. Better to pass alive, than have to take the class again.