The dreaded reverse, chapter 2.

Here we are. Please enjoy some of the latest thoughts of a person going through a hard and weird time.

Worrying about clothes was never more true. That lady put me through the ringer, and the staring had gotten on my last nerve.

At least she hadn't said anything, and just wrote down her numbers and left. I'd have to wait for whatever she was making, but Vincent had insisted I get something now, so I was wearing a summer dress of purest white, made of silk, and with matching underclothes. The bra of which I couldn't wear, and so I was free of that indignity at least.

It could have been worse; there were some mild looking red spots on my skin already, fading fast now that I wasn't touching something plastic.

I looked out into the hotel room and could already tell this allergy was going to be a real pain in the ass.

It would be fine, though; I'd dealt with far worse in my previous life.

Vincent was actually doing something helpful - He had a stack of what could only be silk sheets, and he was doubling them up on all the furniture that wasn't wood or actual leather; sure, it made the place look like a foreclosed house or a gallery, but If he was right, I'd be able to use everything here.

This dress was a little large on me, but that was better than it being small. I did wonder again why that lady was just walking around with such things casually, but it wasn't worth the breath to question it.

Instead it was time for more grape juice; it was a bit more warm now, but still cold enough, and the second glass eased my throat as it slid down it, just as well as the first.

Vincent joined me at the table as I slapped the glass down. "Okay, so magic."

"Magic," the man repeated readily enough, snagging a glass for himself.

"How?"

"Focus, of course. Will and intent, at least for us. You tap your mana, channel it while imagining what you want, and keep all of that firm in your head. Do it right, and you get the effect. There are spells, of course, but most of those are simply meant to draw out and focus the power we have innately."

That was all there was to it? I focused on the bubbling coffee feeling, willing some of it to break off and become harmless sparks....

That was far too much; I blinded the hell out of myself.

"A little less. No, a lot less," Vincent choked out from beside me.

The good detective simply commented: "One hell of a flashbang."

"Sorry. A little too much."

That's alright!" Vincent said with entirely too much cheer. "You're learning, and you didn't set anything on fire! So, how do you feel?"

What was that all about? "Embarrassed, a bit. But physically, fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because while you're a natural, using that much power that quickly might have strained you. I mean, it shouldn't have, but you might be feeling a little tired now."

His eyes were roving over me with some intensity, trying to pick up any tells. Which was fine, I guess, because I had nothing to hide on that front. "I feel fine. I feel like I could do that pretty much all day without worry."

It had been some power, yes... but I had plenty of it to spare; almost as much as he did himself, if I was reading the room right. but he had to know that too, since he was the one who taught me the trick I was using now. So, what was even the point of the question? And why the weird lopsided smile?

"Good. For now though, let's wait until we are somewhere safe and non-flammable before we experiment, please."

"Sure." It was enough for me to know that it worked, and that I could do it. Using this power would give me a huge advantage.

"Alright, so, magic. The thing about magic is, most people have specialties; tricks they can do based on their personalities and forms that they are either stronger at than anyone else, or have a rarity to them. For example, I met someone last week that is stronger with fire magic than anything else. Some of what we will be doing is figuring out if you have anything like that yourself."

Right. "Do you have something like that?"

"Not at all," Vincent said easily. "I'm not a specialist at all."

I didn't believe him for a single second.

"Right, well, I've got no idea how to find anything like that myself. So I'll just do what I can do. Outside, of course."

Vincent nodded. "A good a plan as any. I'll see about making that happen tomorrow. Today, I'm still on call, and the world is a bit... busy. Not that it won't be tomorrow, but today is a bit special."

The first day of something always was, but there was a first before this one that Vincent was a part of, that I'd missed. "So you intend to teach me personally?"

"I think I'll have to. You and any other high elves that happen to show up."

"Ego much?" Detective Stiles asked.

"I didn't make the name up," Vincent snapped with a smile. "There are, or will be, high elves, ancient elves, who will often be confused with high elves, wood elves, dark elves, and wild elves. For the purposes of this conversation, they will all be separated by magic capability and lifespan. High elves stand at the pinnacle - we are effectively immortal, barring accidents or killing. The others have lifespans that vary from thousands to a simple thousand years."

"What, no half-elves?" Detective Stiles was clearly a perv, asking the important questions like that.

Vincent smirked. "Not yet. Maybe later - but the way fantasy portrays the birth rate of elves is accurate enough; we aren't going to be everywhere like unchecked rabbits."

I was going to stay as far away from that as possible; I'd already be bad enough at being one type of parent; the idea that I would now have to try my hand at the other... yeah, no.

"And high elves alone?"

Vincent shrugged. "If there are more than a hundred in the entire nation by tomorrow, I'll be shocked. If there are more than fifty thousand in the entire world, I'll be more than shocked."

Well, what would be the point of that? "Why would that happen? Wouldn't a population that small be unsustainable?"

"Very," Vincent answered. "As for why, nature and the universe don't have to make sense. We might have drawn the long stick or the short one, and only time will tell."

Short one. We were going to lose people as a species to jealousy, if nothing else. Unless we hid who we were.

"For now," Vincent continued, "we are going to be on the endangered species list, as of today. Killing us will be considered a federal crime."

That... questions regarding putting an intelligent species on the list aside, that was a flimsy shield at best. I could see it working, but I could also see people not caring about an extra twenty years at all.

This new world we were heading toward was scary; it wouldn't happen immediately, but with all these stresses? New races, new species, magic, and strange monsters? It wouldn't be unusual for civilizations under such stress to shatter like a cheap glass knocked off a table.

Detective Stiles groaned, and grounded me: "Great, more work. Going to have to hire more cops."

"Your bosses are on it," Vincent replied... as he emptied my juice pitcher.

Whatever, I still had the grapes, and they looked good.

"Right, this is great and all, but you need to get out now. We aren't doing anything, and I need to think."

The look I was given was priceless. "Don't you have more questions?"

"Of course, but I don't even know what to ask yet. Not really. I need time to order my thoughts, and you're a juice thief."

If I thought the look was good before... the sheer incredulity as the man looked from his glass to me! "Are you serious? Just ask for more, that's what room service is for."

"No. Get out. Now. If I have more questions, I'll call you."

Vincent shrugged, clearly unhappy. Why? "Fine. I'll be next door if you need me."

He started forward, and the detective moved with him. "Not you detective. You stay, please."

That really pissed Vincent off; he stuttered a step and opened his mouth before he thought better of it.

I waited until he closed the door, and I heard the other one next door open and shut. The detective waited patiently until I turned to him.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think he's telling what he thinks is the truth. I don't think he feels he's lied to you once."

Good man, he knew instantly. "Thank you. Seems pretty fantastical."

"There is some evidence floating around. Not least of which is you yourself."

I had to concede that point. "True."

"Look, you got his number... here's my card." He put an actual business card on the table next to my glass. "You need me; go ahead and call, and I'll see what I can do."

He really was a stand up guy. Of course, he also wanted the possible connection, but he wasn't being shy about it. "Sure. Thanks detective, that's all I needed for now."

The man offered me a faint smile. "I thought as much. Have a good rest, and good luck until we see each other again."

He opened the door and left without so much as a look back.

I lunged forward and locked the thing. It probably wouldn't do much against magic, but it made me feel a bit better anyway. It was unlikely anyone would come calling anyway, for whatever reason.

The bed was just as light and fluffy as it had been before - but something was different. The blankets? They looked the same, but they felt different. Running down the tag revealed they were one hundred percent cotton. The sheets underneath were silk.

Interesting.

So... what did I want to do now? Beside work for the government? Wear a cool suit, get a badge with a flip thing to store it in, maybe do all the old 'agent' bits as a gag... but what else?

Learn magic, and learn the rules of the new world that hadn't even begun yet. I was quite sure that even Vincent didn't know those yet, and if he did, he would only share what he wanted to. He was also busy with the shift itself, same as everyone else. Did I want to just sit here a week? Did I even have a choice?

Wait, what did I even want my new name to be? Edward Cooper was as dead as could be, it seemed. I didn't mind the Cooper part, but getting called Ed would be pretty awkward, and I didn't want anyone to be able to hear my name and find what little family I had left and cause them trouble.. or worse.

Eve was close enough to my name for me to answer to, probably. Maybe Evelyn? Easier than I expected; what to use for a last name? I shouldn't use any name related to my actual family for security reasons....

I had it. Welsh. I knew what it meant, and it would be the perfect red herring. Anyone looking for me and my family would be looking in all the wrong places and would find nothing.

So, Eve Welsh. Could be better, could be worse. It might even pass well enough as a name I didn't pick out, so long as people didn't ask. I could play that off and roll with it, and fool more people. If I needed.

It was a workable plan in case certain things went south.

I was fairly certain some things would go south; magic was supposed to be rare, according to Vincent, and rare things were sought after. Some people who sought after rare things weren't exactly subtle or nice about it. The government shield would help, but only so far.

Government power was based on the idea of force, and governments, even ours, may not have sufficient force to deter some powerful people; that had always been the way, but with this? The mask might well come completely off.

Vincent's job was to stop that, and I suppose my job too now, but if someone else like us decided to go the other way, what then? What could we even do?

There was going to be at least one; there always was.

The only thing that came to mind was: gang up on them fast, and take them out before they did something uncool, like blowing up the White House or something.

Wait, could I blow up the White House? I felt that I could, if I wanted to. That was a little scary.

I wouldn't, of course: though he wasn't my guy, the president had got in, and I certainly didn't want the job. Not to mention all the other people who would die if I did something like that. The rank and file and security hadn't done anything wrong.

I'd have to ask Vincent if the president was protected - later, when I was on the clock. I was sure he was, really, and regardless of my feelings, I wasn't going to work entirely for free.

The hotel room didn't count yet. I tapped out a text, telling Vincent my new name, and his response was fast enough that I wondered if he was waiting for it: "No maiden name? State of origin?"

I typed back "not my actual state, idc." and let him work on it.

That might come back to bite me, but I didn't want to worry about it right now. I wanted to lay here and sink into the bed. Maybe with some music.

I checked my phone - it was a cheap one, but even the worst ones could still play music. So long as my equally cheap internet held... but all hotels had wi-fi, so it was a simple hop skip and password entering to hook into that.

I had to get up for that of course, but it was listed in the sheets of information about services set in a clear plastic rack on the door. A little low rent for a place like this, but I wasn't complaining.

There... the velvet tones and screechings of the best music around, a true blast from the past. My comfort playlist, not that I had it titled as such; no one needed to know, upon pain of fake death.

Yeah, this was nice.... but it could be better. I was actually tired, for some reason... so do I get up again? I really didn't want to.

I found myself giving a huff as I levered myself up; I needed some water or something. A few grapes wouldn't be amiss either, though I was beginning to wonder how I felt peckish at all; this new body was small, after all. Whatever, I wouldn't question it today.

An old doctor once told me that the body knew what it wanted, and if you felt yourself needing something, that was a message and you shouldn't ignore it.

The real question of the moment was, what did I want? The sky might be the limit, but where was the floor? Enough money to eat well, a roof of mine over my head in a nice place to live, and a slow life with as little work as possible. I'd grinded; I'd done the rat race thing, or the blue collar version of it, and it had sucked.

I couldn't do that with this body - I could tell it wasn't anywhere near as strong or enduring as my previous one. So what could I do? Office work didn't really appeal either.

Wait, there was a thing I'd heard about that I could do that basically just involved me sitting on my ass... there was more to it, probably, behind the scenes, but even with all that it couldn't be as bad as roofing or machining car parts.

I could even use my cheap phone to look it up; it never ceased to amaze, the technology we'd been blessed with as a species; one forty-dollar phone, and we all had access to the sum total of all the information of humanity.

Well, unless you lived in China; then the Chinese Communist Party blocked you from the rest of the world and gave you the mushroom treatment. Glad I wasn't there.

Wait a minute, how was this thing that was happening going to work there? Were they going to get disappeared? Just shot in the street? What about the middle eastern countries? If I had done this little trick there, I'd likely already be dead as a witch.

Something in my gut told me there would be blood, and the other side of the world would end up paying for it. I gave a silent wish for those poor bastards on the other side of the world to get all the luck possible.

It was some other person's problem, though; I didn't know what I was doing, and my plate was full with my own besides. I'd likely just make things worse, no matter how awful it felt to sit here on my hands.

So I turned my focus to my phone again: exactly how did one do this live streaming thing?