Arcanum Ex Machina: The Magician

Chapter One

Ah, dammit.

Mac Mercury slowly begins to open his eyes, giving up halfway through the battle. They close once again as he stays completely still in the sea of Egyptian silk that coats the enormous mattress. A sputtering fountain of curses flow through his mind, while the amber beams of light from the windows burn into his eyelids.

Why? Mac thinks, I mean…I know mirrors on the roof of a bedroom can be tacky but whose bright idea was it to turn the roof into a huge window?

Mac takes a deep breath before opening his eyes and letting them adjust to the sunlight. He grabs ahold of the velvet curtains around him and pulls himself off the bed. He gracefully lands on his feet, twirling in place before taking a step towards the balcony. Mac can’t help but smile at the view. The royal blue waters eccentrically blend with the lush mountains and urban landscapes. He sees the Christ the Reedemer statue looking down onto the lively city and begins to laugh to himself.

Rio de Jainero. A beautiful city filled with beautiful idiots and their endless supply of cash. Dinero. Money. It makes the world go 'round, or whatever stupid phrase people say to excuse their greed. These days, I’m called a thief…but I can’t help but think the term ‘Magician’ has a better ring to it.

He snaps his fingers and smirks to himself as a tarot card seems to appear out of thin air. The embedded double M logo on the back glistens in the sunlight. Mac gently tosses it on the unmade bed and exits the large room. As soon as he leaves the hardwood floor, Mac floats centimeters above the hallway’s carpet. After a few moments of dancing on air, he reaches the end of the corridor and enters the living room. The huge television flickers on from his presence, startling him.

“This is New World News Reporter, Yolanda De Lunes with the evening news!”

Ugh. Nothing’s more of a downer than current events.

“As our four Royal Nations continue to recover from the tragic events of The Trance, we ask you all to join us in a moment of silence for all of the lives lost.”

…What the hell is The Trance? I keep hearing about this big event but no one wants to fill me in.

“Thank you. Even though the worse of The Trance is over, it seems as if the Royal Nation of Wands is still under attack. Vancouver has fallen after numerous reports of attacks by The Gentle Fist, a radical terrorist group responsible for—”

The TV flickers off. Mac lobs the remote to the other side of the room and glances at the coffee table in front of him. He grabs the leather journal on top of it and unbuckles it open. Mac touches the engraved initials on the cover with deep curiosity. He opens to the book to a random page and begins to read:

Love is an intricate crime scene. That moment that you feel yourself falling...that moment is forever encased in your memory with yellow tape. No one can cross into that moment, no one can change it. So what if you're the victim. Your assailant sketching herself into future wanted posters...her face is crystal clear yet you can’t seem to fathom her existence. Her weapon of choice, her words. Carefully crafted projectiles of the mind, propelled with the explosive gunpowder of her soul. Raw emotion. Flying through you, ripping all of your doubts to pieces. Bullet wounds left from every single excruciating detail that made you fall for her in the first place -- The exact shade of her hair, the degree of each curl. Her lips, her amazingly dark but beautiful eyes.  Bright red pools of affection spilling out of you, drowning that false sense of security that you held for dear life. Time slows, logic screeches to a halt. You are dead, yet you have the biggest smile plastered across that silly face of yours. You are dead, but you couldn't feel more alive.