Once upon a time in America, during the dawn of steam engines and railways, there was an incredibly powerful steel-driver by the name of John Henry. As tall as two men, and as strong as seven, he could lay down an entire mile of railway track before lunchtime.
However, as the times changed and industry advanced, a steam powered, tunnelling machine was introduced that could do the jobs of both John Henry and his fellow laborers in half the time it took for a man, supposedly rendering their jobs obsolete. John Henry challenged the machine's inventor to a contest, a race to see who could tunnel into the side of a mountain faster. If John Henry won, the inventor would have to pack up his machine and go.
The race began. Though the steam powered drill was quick, John Henry was quicker, and he managed to burrow a tunnel in record time. Though he won the race, and the inventor honored their arrangement, it was said John Henry's heart gave out where he stood. His sacrifice saved many workers and their families.
Though, other legends say he lived on, and even had a son of his own...
New York. Lower Manhattan.
Salim: This is the most amazing object I have ever laid eyes on, that not even the Goddess, in Her eternal grace, could ever bestow unto man something as remarkable as FOOD in WINDOWS.
Lily: I'm glad to see you so excited Mr. Netjeer, but it's really...mundane. Especially in Manhattan. Places like this are common in the city.
Salim: How could you call this typical? HA! You put the food in the boxes, you pop a quarter in, and it comes out fresh and hot! Habibi, this is the pinnacle of human achievement.
Lilky: Er...I don't know about fresh, Mr. Netjeer.
Salim: Please, Salim is fine. I should be calling you Doctor Suarez.
Lily: Which would be kind of you but...patently incorrect as I just got my masters. Still working on the doctorate.
Salim: So modest, habibi! So, this is how the working man lives. I almost forgot. It's good to be reminded, now and then.
The giant nods towards a booth in the far back, behind a tiled column and out of the way of prying eyes. After piling on several plates of food into a tray, the giant carries their lunch over to the table. He starts eating. The young woman, with only a modest piece of grilled chicken, watches him in awe. French fries. Steamed carrots. Gelatine. Steak. A slice of cheesecake. An apple. He takes a bit of out of each, savoring each morsel as if it were a king's banquet.
Right. Let's begin.
Lily: I admit, Salim, I am a bit nervous.
Salim: Oh? How so?
Lily: Well, I'm a scholar of magick, not...espionage. If the people we're dealing with are as dangerous as you say they are...
Salim: Well, good thing I am under the protection of such a powerful magi, eh?
Lily: I was actually going to say that I feel a little bit safer under the protection of a giant man such as yourself.
Salim: Ha? Me? Couldn't hurt a fly.
With this, the man notices a fly buzzing overhead and snatches it out of the air without so much as looking. The girl, stunned, watches him consider crushing it in his grip before letting it go. It will live another day.
Salim: Besides, when it comes to intrigue from the shadows, this is not my first rodeo, cowgirl.
The man removes a lovely, embroidered handkerchief from his breast pocket and loudly blows his nose. It sounds like a wind storm. He puts it away.
Salim: It's my second rodeo.
Lily opens her mouth to say something, when she notices a familiar face enter the restaurant. She's made sure to keep her eye on the door and pay attention to each soul that enters. The tall, black man removes his hat. He is bald, with a friendly, attractive face. Though larger, he is smaller than the man sitting across from Lily, but that's not saying much, as he towers over everyone else in the restaurant.
Lily waves him over, discretely. He nods politely to both, before taking a seat next to Lily.
Lily: Ah, Mr. Iron!
John: Hey, you two. Is all this food...er...for all of us?
Lily: It would seem not.
Salim: Hey, it's all on my dollar, anyway. Johnny Iron, it's good to see you. You were missed at the gala.
John: I hear it was an affair to remember. For all the wrong reasons. How was Vegas?
Lily: Seems a bit of spellbreaking sabotage was in order there as well.
John: You realize that for three people working against what's likely Russian black ops, we do stick out like...well...two giant, dark skinned men and a young woman, right?
Lily: Taken care of. I cast a light refraction spell around the table. Think, fun house mirror, but more flattering. Now we just look like two, supportive gay fathers and their daughter.
Salim: Oh, I would be honored to be Mr. Iron's husband. But...your wife would kill me, Johnny.
John: She would. So, what's the deal, guys?
Salim: Ah, you know. Talking about the weather, the stock marker, and sharing deep intelligence over strawberry gelatine. What a delight! Shall we get down to it then? Have you two pretties ever heard of the Divine Chalices?
John: They that girl group playing at the Roseland Ballroom this Saturday?
Salim: Mr. Iron! I missed your sense of humor. The International Spellbreaking Comission is full of old, boring, stuffed shirts...
John: ...I...was being serious.
Lily: I believe, Mr. Iron, that the Chalices Salim is referring to are the seven vessels used by the ancient Hierophants in the First Temple in Eden.
Salim: Those would be the ones, yes. A grand affair! Every thousand years, the high magi from all corners of the globe would collect the sacred water from the divine springs of the world and pour them to the Well of Souls beneath The Tree in Eden, nourishing its roots and supposedly keeping magick going around for another dreary millenia or so. Wow, what a mouth fall, all that!
John: A...tree?
Lily: The Tree. The Tree of Eden. It sits in the First Temple, and is the holiest of holies in the Church of Leithe. Not even the Papess can waltz in there unannounced, and she's sort of in charge of the whole organization.
John: So, these legendary cups...
Lily: Oh no, they are hardly legend. They do exist. There's documentation. However, they are seldom seen.
Salim: After one of the Ptolemaic Pharaohs tried to...er...take over the world using their power, it was decided they should be sent away and kept safely, far apart from their equivalent wellsprings. You know, to make it harder. For...everyone, it turns out.
John: I see. *sigh* Well, this sounds absolutely fruity and nuts.
Lily: Except...
Lily Suarez reaches into her purse and pulls out an enormous folder, stuffed to the seams with papers. Salim and John widen their eyes, unsure how she's managed to fit that into her small bag.
John: Lady and Mother, girl, what the hell do you keep in your purse?
Lily: Lipstick? Mints? Hormones?
The young woman opens a marked page. A photocopy of a beautiful, exquisitely designed drinking vessel, with a base comprised of four angels.
Lily: This is the one that was in possession of the Albans until...
Salim: ...the Russians got their chicken kyiv-stained hands on it. Or, so my sources tell me. This is what the Black Library, and, by extension, Firebird, are after.
John: Hmm. And just who are these sources?
Salim: That's classified, big habibi.
John: Look, I don't work with the government. Personal rule.
Lily: I promise you we aren't the government, John. The Institute of Glyphic Studies is a member of Aradia, a neutral, global body. The goal of the organization is threefold: ensure the peace between magi and non-magi, work towards the use of magick for peaceful means, and to prevent governments from abusing magick to the same degree as the Albans.
John: Sounds noble enough. And where do you come in, Salim?
Salim: Oh, you know me. I don't work the government. I am the government.
John: Be serious.
Salim: *sigh* I'm a freelancer...for many. You catch my drift, right?
John: A man who does not exist...
Salim: An an avid spellbreaking fan, philanthropist, amateur antiquities and Egyptology historian, and...information broker. We all have our hobbies, yes? I'm the type of man that...you want to be on your side.
John: And whose side are you on right now?
Salim: The side of the angels. This time anyway. But you know what that means...
John: Putting our faith into a man of unusual size who could stab us in the back at any minute?
Salim: Well, if it helps you sleep better, I'm the only person sitting at this table without a glyph.
John: I'd say you could be lying...but one, I don't like to be contrarian for the fun of it, and two, this brilliant woman sitting to my left would notice.
Lily: Unless Salim had magick that could hide magick...which is not an impossibility...yes. But we can trust him. I won't say I always make the best choices, but I'm not a half-bad judge of character.
John: Okay, I get where you two stand. So, where do I come in? You want me to throw a few guys? I don't like playing the 'heavy'. And I'm far too soft to be an assassin. Babyface til the day I die.
Lily: You know my relationship with the Tamberly boys. Colt is...good hearted, but--
John: He's a good-hearted idiot is what you mean. And, as his former tag partner, I'd say it to his face. You two want someone capable.
Salim: And just a little bit mysterious. Mr. Iron, you know me. I'm a bit of a mark. I know my spellbreaking history well. You could have been global champ, once upon a time. Still could, if you got back onto the saddle. Firebird is being used as a front to get these artefacts. The GSA is the one barrier we have on hand to throw at them. But we need a man on the inside.
John: People are going to get hurt, you do realize. Maybe even people I love.
Lily: Which is why we want to minimize risk with someone capable. Someone like you. I don't mean to dredge up the past, but we both know you were more than just a normal spellbreaker, Mr. Iron. We'll leave that there.
The large man looks at the woman and the even larger man. He considers. He sighs. He's in. But only because he likes these two people.
John: Ok. So, let me guess...all the places hosting these tournaments...
Lily: Either correspond to the known location of a Divine Wellspring, or one of the theorized locations of a Divine Chalice.
John: And there's seven of these things, yeah?
Salim: Ah, how did the story go? Yes. One to the magi of Alban Great. One to the Bereft of the long-lived and righteous. One to the alchemists who work among shadows. One to the summoners of the Land of the Rising Sun. One to the Fae of the Unseely Court. One to the demonic princes of hidden Gehenna. One to the djinn of the smokeless fires, who dwell in the in-between of all things.
John: Fool, that's a Lord of the Rings quote!
Lily: Er, he is technically right though.
Salim: The best kind of right!
Lily: Those were the tribes of magick entrusted to safekeep the chalices, though some say the seventh was initially granted to the dragons of the east until they sadly died out. We know the location of most of these chalices, but...we can communicate this in a more secure location. We just need to know if you're on board, John Henry?
John: Look. I have a life. A loving wife. We're trying to start a family. I know I can handle myself when it comes to 'big, scary, bad shit', but...there's always the chance I can't. What then? Where does that leave Sandra?
It is a fair question, one that lingers over the table like a dark storm cloud.
Normally light-hearted and witty, Salim's expression changes. He is serious.
Salim: My friend. If the Black Library, and Firebird, are going after the Divine Chalices, there's a good chance there might not be a family in your future if they succeed. That goes for any of us.
John: So, it's bad, what they're planning. Is what you're saying? Real bad?
Lily: We don't know for certain, but we think it may have something to do with Kitezh.
John: Right. The ruins where the global championship is going to be held. Yeah, spooky, weird shit. Sounds like bad news, alright. Fine. I'll rest on it. How can I contact you, safely?
Lily: If you're in, send a letter to Buck telling him you wish to become a teacher at the GSA. Trust me. I have this covered. We'll take it from there. Now, I can't be at these matches. Or at least, not all of them. I'll need to gather intel and stay back in Greece. But Salim can coordinate.
Salim: You know me, Johnny. I have the most uncanny timing and seem to turn up ever-so-coincidentally.
Again, Salim takes on a more serious guise. This time, however, it is confident, assuring. Kind.
Salim: You will not be alone in this fight, John. My friend.
John: Thank you. I appreciate it. And what about the other spellbreakers?
Salim: Oh, don't make me choose between my boys! Well, Gio is brilliant. Nobody recognizes it of course. Iggy and Victor would also be useful. I've already spoken to Joseph, our champion. So far, he's the only one in the loop.
John: Wait, so the champion of the GSA is aware, but Colt isn't?
Lily: We were hoping you...could explain things to him?
John: Hell no...
Salim: You would have Joseph to assist you, habibi! And of all the himbos of the GSA he is...well...the least himbo. And of course, I think Spike would be helpful too.
John: ....HAHAHAHAHAAH! Spike!? Look, I love blondie. He's my star pupil. But the young man once told me, with the utmost confidence, that the only fruit named after a color was a blueberry.
Salim: ...Wait, there's more than one?
John/Lily: ORANGE!
Salim: Oh yeah. Always forget that one...
Lily: Okay, that's settled. Take some time to think about it, Mr. Iron. If you're in, we'll figure out a way to secure the Chalices. The Institute, and by extension, Aradia, can keep them secure in our vaults.
John: And I get all that, Ms. Saurez, I do. Hell, I'd trust you with my life. But honestly, something this big...shouldn't we be leaving this to the feds, much to my chagrin?
Salim: Oh, I imagine they're already aware. But you know them. Mostly useless.
John: *sigh* This sounds like a disaster.
Salim: Come on! Saving the world? It'll be fun.
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