Zanzibar The Magician - Uncovered

6 || I'M NO RITA HAYWORTH

STEAM billowed as the kettle boiled. Its whistle escalated to an ear-splitting crescendo then the heat was turned off. Grabbing a cloth to prevent burning his hand, Zanzibar lifted the kettle and poured the water into a waiting coffee pot. 

As it infused, he readied a couple of mugs and filled a small glass bowl with sugar. "Sorry, I don't have any milk," he said apologetically to his guest. "Been otherwise occupied."

Jim smirked, nodded, then took a seat at the kitchen table as he waited for his coffee. "I'm glad you're alright," he said. 

On seeing Zanzibar's eyebrow hitch, he stumbled on. "I mean other than - you know." He gestured the magician's new form.

Zanzibar managed a woeful smile and pressed the coffee-pot plunger. "Thank you," he replied. Then he filled the first mug and passed it to Jim. 

Chicory, with its sweet, smokey aroma filled the small kitchen;  it offered a comforting reminder of what normality felt like - once. 

Jim piled three sugars into his mug and stirred. "So -" he said, the teaspoon clinking off the cup. "How are we going to handle this?"

"We?" Zanzibar lowered his coffee, surprised.

"Well, yes. As I said, the Syndicate are a team! And that aside, you saved me from the Sorceress' wrath; our roles could so easily have been reversed here."

The magician scoffed. "Wrath? More like spite!" He quickly took a slurp of coffee. "I appreciate you want to help, Jim, but I may have to travel far - maybe even very far - to undo ... " He made a dismissive gesture to his person as he tried to find the words. "This curse!" he hissed.

Jim noted the bitter undertone to the magician's voice. It was understandable, for in the world outwith their service, such a 'peculiarity' as that which Zanzibar now had to bear, would not be met with empathy. Furthermore, most of society, although familiar with some of the heroes' feats, still did not truly believe 'magic' existed; the very cause of Zanzibar's predicament. 'Smoke and mirrors' was as close to an explanation as many were willing to go. 

Then there was the magician's viewpoint on his 'condition' to consider also. Although Jim knew Zanzibar fairly well, he still had no clue how the transmutation was really going to affect him.  But, as he sipped his coffee, an idea formed.

"I know it was magic which did this to you," he said, once more gesturing the magician's figure. Zanzibar confirmed with a short nod. "And you can't undo the spell - right?"

"If I could do you honestly think I would be standing here like this?" The magician huffed then downed some more coffee.

Jim offered an apologetic grin. "Of course not, forgive me. But, I think I - we - know the very person who may be able to help." 

Zanzibar eyed him suspiciously. "Who?"

"Yarko The Great." 

The magician groaned; but then he pondered. As a fellow Syndicate member and conjurer, Yarko was well acquainted with Zanzibar. They had worked together for some time having faced many unusual adversaries in some equally strange cosmoi. 

Both were familiar with a number of reputable science heroes who may also be able to aid Zanzibar in his quest to regain...normality. Nevertheless, due to his modified appearance, meeting Yarko would be daunting for the fez-wearing magician. 

As if reading his mind, Jim spoke up. "He is already aware of your transformation, as are others within the Syndicate."

With hands resting on the table, Zanzibar's manicured nails tapped out his misgivings on the lacquered surface. Jim had to suppress a grin for fear of upsetting his friend. "C'mon, the worst has already happened, so what have you got to lose?" 

"My dignity?" Zanzibar said with a caustic curl of his full lips.

Jim sighed. "Perhaps you need to consider how you can mould this to your advantage?"

"And what advantage is that, exactly?" The magician's tone was filled with disdain, something which Jim knew best not to exacerbate, if at all possible. But in this case, some truth was going to be voiced.

"Well, we all know a pretty face can sway things in one's favour."

"I have my magic to do that," came the curt reply.

"You also have charm; something you utilised equally well, minus your hocus-pocus. I think your feminine attributes may have as good an effect as your manly methods of persuasion."

Zanzibar recoiled.

"No!" Jim said, almost choking on his coffee as he realised his friend's interpretation. "That's not what I was implying, Zan. I simply meant, well, being as you are, perhaps working a different kind of 'magic' will make the bad guys more amenable. As I said, a pretty face... maybe less biff, bang, kapow for you, if you catch my drift?"

"Biff, bang, kapow as you put it, goes with the job! Fluttering my eyelashes is not going to dissuade hoodlums and fiends from their criminal activity, Jim."

The young hero shrugged. "Well, at least you're thinking of returning to work by the sounds of it." He sipped more coffee, watching Zanzibar over the rim of the mug.

With eyes narrowed, the magician looked hard at Jim. His attention then turned to the contents of his own coffee mug. 

He stared into the black liquid at the image looking back at him. He was aggrieved there was no doubt; stifling a deep rage, trying to deal with a unique and unprecedented condition and filled with crippling ambiguity. Nevertheless, his friend had approached his predicament with clarity of thought. He would have to make the best of a grave situation.

Zanzibar nodded a little reluctantly, for he knew he needed help with resolving his dilemma. And Jim was right; there was no doubt his services would be required within the Syndicate, even though his situation still seemed to outweigh any business-as-normal.

"Okay." He heaved a sigh.  "I need to try and look at this constructively, at least until I can resume my normal - presence."

Jim drained his mug and placed it with enthusiasm upon the table. The clatter of porcelain on veneer startled the magician. "Good! Then get your glad rags on and let's make a move."

"Glad rags?" Once more, Zanzibar's voice bore a stubborn tone.

"Yeah, well, you're going to look good in a dress with that figure," Jim couldn't resist a smirk.

The magician mumbled something incoherent, then an azure bolt left his fingertips aimed at the young Dynamo.

"Hey!" Jim protested, his eyes wide as he took in his new attire. The dress fluttered in the aftermath of Zanzibar's magic, its skirt rippling around Jim's hairy legs. 

"Well, do you like wearing a dress?" The magician showed a hint of mirth for the first time since his guest arrived.

"Fair enough," Jim conceded, a small laugh falling from his lips as he pulled at the delicate fabric. "I guess I'm no Rita Hayworth."

"Now there's a woman who will go far," Zanzibar grinned. "However, you may now understand my aversion to wearing such a vestment." The magician wandered off, a tad victorious, towards the bathroom to continue with his shower.

"Yeah, guess I do," Jim chuckled. "Hey! I hope you can undo this and return my original clothes," he shouted through to Zanzibar.

A loud laugh came from the bathroom. "I hope so, too."