The Magic Box

Your One-Stop Spot to Shop for All Your Occult Needs.

(805) 555-8966

It was all good and well being a witch, or a vampire, or even a vampire witch, but the world ran on money. Sure you could just take money, or conjure money, or flay the skin from some poor granny in the street and take her money and sell the skin to a hard up Gnarl demon, but that was all a fairly limited income. There where things to be bought, things to own. Even magic wasn't cheap, I mean a pound of powdered silver just to contact one of the demon's from the 5th circle of hell made it an expensive spell. Its not like silver grew on trees. So, the only way to go, in Willow's mind, was to combine her need for money with her greatest love, well third greatest love after Tara and Kennedy, definitely a greater love than Oz though. Anya was dead, and Sunnydale was gone, so it wasn't like some schmuck was going to sue her for breach of Trademark, so now Detroit had its very own Magic Box. 

Opening the door set of a small tinkling bell. Not overly loud or intrusive, but loud enough to attract the attention of Willow or one of her few employees, if she ever got any, and just loud enough to grate on your nerves after hearing it for the 100th time that day. Before your eyes can adjust to the dimness, some magical ingredients didn't react well to harsh light, and some of the ancient tomes she was selling would fade if exposed to direct sunlight, your nose is assaulted by a heady mix of scents, smells and aromas. Herbs, Incense, Spices, mouldy old books, demon parts, animal entrails and various oils and lotions combined to create a pungent, heady bouquet that was at least 20% taste rather than pure smell. After all, smells are particulate, and if your mind was so inclined, you may well recoil in horror at the items your were ingesting through your olfactory system.  Pushing through the miasma of different fragrances, and you do literally have to push, like you are pushing against a crowd moving in the opposite direction, you finally get a look at the shop. Immediately in front of you are several shelving units with row after row of jars, Cards, boxes, trinkets, bones, skulls, minerals, books, incense and an assorted plethora of magical ingredients and trinkets. After about 20 feet, the floor drops a couple of feet and 2 wooden steps lead to the lower level.

Against the left wall is a service area. A glass fronted display cabinet filled with some slightly rarer and more valuable items, with a Till on top and a stunningly attractive redhead standing behind it flicking through a heavy tome of forgotten lore (That's me, Willow Rosenberg, Former Jew, now Wiccan Vampire, I'm nothing if not an oxymoron. Bet you didn't realise it was me!!!) Three large display cabinets fill the void in front of Till area, likewise filled with rarer, more powerful, and therefore more expensive items. A large book case fills the left hand wall and goes back about 30 feet to the back of the store, where it wraps around the back wall and continues. The bookcase is filled from top to bottom with... well books... i guess the clue was in the name of this particular piece of furniture. A balcony sat above the bookcase where the store had obviously been extended at some point into a 2 storey building compared to the single storey at the front. Steps lead up to this area which is likewise filled with bookcases and display cabinets, however a red rope spans the two hand rails on the steps, and a notice dangles from it, announcing "Forbidden Section - Ask staff if you require something from this area" In the back right hand corner is a reinforced door, that is obviously locked and barred, possibly even magically locked, who knows? Do you feel brave enough to try it? Well, do ya, Punk?

Suddenly a melodic voice, as if uttered by an angel distracts you and you see the proprietor standing beside you.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

Willow looked around the store. Perhaps it was something to do with there being no Hellmouth in Detroit, but there had been a strange absence of customer in the store. No one buying incense, no one buying Tarot cards, no one looking a love spell, or even a spell to make them bullet proof, she always liked those. If the person didn't die, they put it down to the spell, and there were no complaints, if the person died, well they died and there where no complaints, it was a kind of win win situation. Magic was old, way old. Older than man. Magic dated back to the times when demons roamed the earth and called it there own, not demi demons like Vampires, or the pathetic excuse for demons Buffy often killed, but real ancient evil. Demons who watched the sun being born and the earth coalesce from the miasma of stellar dust clouds orbiting the young star. These demons didn't shoot at each other with Colt .45 Pistols or Tommy guns, so there was no real need to make yourself bullet proof. It was possible, but not by the average layman, you were calling upon the power of the Gods to ensure you didn't die, and that didn't happen often.

Willow sighed, this world was truly boring. She missed Xander, she missed the Master, she missed chaining up humans and riding them around like ponies. Sure there was fun to be had, if you kept your head under the radar, someone with the right skills could do almost anything to any one at any time, but that... that was so passée. How to get customers. Selling magics to silly humans would make her smile, bring the happy back. BostonGeorge had promised he would call in. perhaps when the boss bought something, or just made an appearance more of Detroits finest would stop by as well.

A Vampire can dream...

WalterWhite had searched for a couple of hours now - had followed the exact roads and streets, just like the guy on the phone had said, wandered down several blind alleys to find what he was looking for. He had walked back, doublechecked whether or not he had gone the wrong way, and walked the same roads again. But he couldn't find it. It seemed as if the place had sunken below the water level and floated away with the stream. 

Finally, he saw something. Walter walked closer, trying to see what the sign said, but the sun shone too bright, and he was blinded. After a while, when his eyes had gotten used to all the white light, he attempted to look at the sign once again. It said: 

The Magic Box

Your One-Stop Spot to Shop for All Your Occult Needs.

Walter sighed and gave up. It wasn't the place he had been looking for, but it was worth a shot. Maybe he had just used a code name and referred to this place? Maybe this was the shop, the guy had talked about on the phone? If it even was a male. He was not quite sure; the voice had sounded more or less distorted as if he didn't want to be recognized. But why? They were going to meet in person anyways. There was something special about this drug deal - something out of the ordinary - something that didn't feel quite right, and he was not sure what to expect.

Compared to how quiet it was in the streets, the small tinkling bell nearly gave him a heart attack, and he was hoping no one in this quiet and empty shop was lurking at him from the shadows.

Everywhere he looked, herbs, mouldy books and spices were filling the shelves. He could smell the dust and the mixed scents of old witch-magic. It didn't quite please his nose, so he hoped this would not take too long. The place itself was as if it was thrown out of the Middle Ages and dumped into this alley. Therefore, it was no wonder to him that no one was in there, but he decided to find out anyways.

"Anyone around?" Walter said out loud and waited for a response while walking further into The Magic Box. Suddenly a melodic voice, as if uttered by an angel, distracted him and he saw the proprietor standing beside him.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

Walter had, once again, nearly gotten a heart attack. He didn't expect other people to just appear out of no where, and especially not her. He had seen her before - talked to her before. They were part of the same family. "Willow? Are you..?"

Willow stares at WalterWhite for a moment, a bemused smile on her face. Perhaps there was fun to be had on this world after all, apparently Whoreable had already chained up BostonGeorge and ridden around on him like a pony, so there was hope yet that she could partake in her favourite past time. If only Xander was her to share the fun with her. No, Xander was weak, that's why that damn Slayer had killed him, but that was all in the past anyway. A long time a go, in a world far, far away to paraphrase a pop culture phrase. It was great when you go to mix your Pop culture references in a Mafia based game set 60 years before any of them ever existed. Its kinda a 4th wall thing i have going here, thought Willow, like Deadpool, only sexier.

Pulled out of her thoughts, Willow remembered Wally standing in front of her.

"Hi Wally. You don't mind if I call you Wally do you? Am I what? Female? Here? A Witch? A Vampire? A shop Proprietor?"

Willow laughed, running her finger down Walter's Lapel, before tapping him in the center of his chest, mouthing the word 'Boink' as she did so.

"Sorry, its such a glorious night, and I'm in a playful mood. Forgive me. How may I assist you?"

"You can call me Heisenberg - or Walter. Or Mr. White. I don't care," Walter said and waved with his hand as if he was trying to wipe away the subject. "Wally sounds ridiculous."

Walter was aroused by this beautiful young woman poking him here and there and nearly forgot about Skyler, his wife, waiting for him at home. She was probably already worried, and he felt bad for not telling her the truth about the whole thing. The drug empire he, himself, with the help from Jesse Pinkman among several others, had built. It was amazing to be on the top of the hill, and he knew it could only go wrong from now. He was just waiting for his trip to go down. 

Putting aside his thoughts, he decided to actually answer her final question. "Nevermind. It's just..." Walter looked around to make sure no one was listening - but of course no one would in this empty store. It was just a bad habit. "I was supposed to meet someone around here. I'm not sure if I found the right place, even though I followed his directions. That's the only reason I'm actually here. But of course," he added, "it's nice to talk to you. How are things around here?"

Willow thought for a moment before shrugging, "Quiet. I think that's about all I can say. You are the first Person to come through that door. Who'd have thought that opening a magic shop in Detroit would be such a bad idea. Still, its handy for laundering money."

Willow gazed at the door for a moment, as if willing someone, anyone, even Whackjob to walk in. Still no sign of BostonGeorge either, but then he was very busy... apparently. Perhaps she could keep WalterWhite here for a while... no not to chain up and ride like a pony, but get him to buy something. She could of course lie flat out, but there was something about him, that made her feel... something... Hate? No. Loathing? No. Pity? No not that either. Could it be Sorry? Could it be that Willow, Dark Witch, Vampire and transdimensional Spawn of Hell felt sorry for this man? Meh. This earth was definitely rubbing her up the wrong way... that wasn't necessarily bad though, it had been such a long time since anyone had rubbed her up anyway. She may just have to get a pet after all. Whoreable would surely be able to tell her who would make a good pet. Snapped out of her musings Willow remembered that Walter was still standing in front of her.

"So who sent you here? I mean is this like a blind date kind of thing, or business. Who honestly agrees to meet a random person in a place they have never been before for a reason they have no idea of?"

George slowly opens the door and creeps into the magic shop, Will is sitting at the front counter looking as bored as can be. Setting down the box of bagels he had brought with him from his bakery he slowly makes his way towards her. Jumping out from behind a side counter George yells at the top of his lungs in an attempt to scare Will_RosenBerg.

After giving her a moment to regain her composer and making sure anything wasn't thrown at him George ran back by the door and brought his gift to the front counter. Setting a fresh dozen of his now famous bagels on the table as an apology for not making it in to see her sooner.

Good day my dear I am sorry it has taken me so long to get here! I have been so busy with my restaurant and the cocaine business I have hardly had much time for leisure.

George grabs a mason jar off the counter with a shrunken head inside of it and smiles at him.

This is quite the interesting place you have here Willow, mind explaining some of these things to me as you show me around?

Willow controlled the urge to roll her eyes. Whoreable had her well warned about her boss's predilection for 'jumping out' on people. However, as instructed, to save his embarrassment, she had feigned shock and surprise to save his embarrassment. Truth be told she had smelled him coming down the street. No, not because of the gallon of cheap cologne he wore in an attempt to cover up the Garlic and poor hygiene, but because a) She was a witch b) She was a vampire and C) she was Jewish... ok that last one had no impact on her ability to sense her boss, and its not like The Jews were like Ferengi and could hear profit blowing in the wind, Ferengi rule of Acquisition 22 for any of you Trekkies out there, but it was another little piece of the Jigsaw that made Willow who she was. She mustered a smile, well what passed as a smile for willow these days.

"Sure boss, what would you like to know? That for instance is a Shrunken head. The witch-doctors of a few primitive cultures practice a form of dark magic. They have learned and passed on many dark secrets. One such lore is the ability to extract magical power from the remains of a spell-casters’ brain after death. The very idea is often horrifying to wizards of “civilized” cultures, and only the most vile, evil and unconscionable dark wizards are willing to make use of such an enchanted item, much less attempt to learn the process. The creator of such a horrific device must take the complete head of a wizard within moments of his death, remove the skull, and extract the brain. The brain is then soaked in a specially prepared solution and then returned to the head, which is then shrunken. A Shrunken Head of the Magi still maintains its power to store prepared arcane spells within its dried husk of a brain."

Thump thump thump. Santos feet hit the ground hard as he sprinted down the street. He could hear the sound of the policeman chasing. Santo had the jump on him so he just kept running. Was typical of his luck lately to run straight out of the post office into coppers. The crys of the chasing policeman were growing faint but Santo dared not look back. He rounded a corner and saw a shop door slightly open, quickly he slide through the door and pressed himself  against a wall. His attempts to control his breath were futile. Loud footsteps approached and Santo took a deep breath and held it for as long as he could. Luckily the footsteps disappeared off into the distance. Santo peaked out through a window just in time to see the policeman round the corner at the end of the street. Santo smiled to himself that was closer than he had expected. 

Santos attention quickly turned to the two men and one woman who were staring at him. He hadnt even noticed them. 

"Just eh getting a bit of exercise" he panted.    

This was not just an ordinary shop. Santo began to panic a bit as he noticed the shrunken heads. His mind was racing as he tried to think of something to say. He just stood there until he uttered the only thing he could think of. 

"Any special offers today?"

Willow eyed SantoRubio suspiciously. Not only had this stranger burst into her shop, but he had cut in front of her Boss, BostonGeorge. Composing herself, it wouldn't do to fly into a rage and rip the man's throat out in front of BostonGeorge, she replied in her usual sultry and inviting voice.

"I'm sorry, we don't do special offers, we're not that kind of shop. Unless you are into magicks and the dark arts i doubt you will find anything of interest to you here."

Remembering her manners, Willow added an ingratiating smile as an after thought. After all, appearances could be deceptive, and the man may well be in the market to summon a 6oolb Chirago Demon.

Willow took a look around the Magic Box. It was too quiet, it had gotten even quieter since BostonGeorge had moved his whole family half way across the country. Perhaps if the opportunity arose for her to move closer to Detroit arose she would be able to devote more time to building a steady customer base. Surely there were other magic users somewhere in the 6 cities.

After wondering around for quite a few hours on this late evening, Azazel stumbles across the Magic Box and feels compelled to enter. Having been witness to a vast number of events which many would label as "bizarre", he feels it is his duty to enter and see what sort of dark magic is on offer within this strange new world he finds himself an inhabitant of.

Seeing Willow_Rosenberg at the counter, he greets her and is quite taken back by her calm reaction to his unusual appearance.

Hello Miss, quite a "different" store you have yourself her. I am Azazel, nice to meet you. Perhaps you could assist me with some old Occult literature if you have any in your possession? I am keen to gain an insight into the darker going's on of this world and learn more about it's underworld secrets.

Azazel smiles and waits patiently before Willow_Rosenberg begins to guide him around the store with an enthusiastic smile on her face.

Willow looks at the handsome stranger in her shop. She doesn't immediately recognize him, he must be from one of the families outside of Detroit or LA, she'd never had much contact with those families. However, a customer is a customer, and it just so happens she had the perfect book until she found out just how powerful this person was.

"Well Mr Azazel, I think I have just the book for you, may I recommend Confessions of an Illuminati by Leo Lyon Zagami, it is an interesting read and should answer most of your basic questions. As with all the Arts, its best to start small and work your way up."

She could feel power rolling off him in waves, he was doing his best to hide it, but Willow could sense magic and power better than most. Even his blood smelled of power. She'd have to make it her business to get to know Azazel_Nox better and see just what he had to offer.

Confessions of an Illuminati, that sounds very interesting. Thank you Miss Rosenberg, this looks like exactly what I was after.

When reaching to take the book from Willow's hand, he feels a power unlike anything he had yet felt in this new world where he found himself. Who was this Willow Rosenberg? Did she truly possess powers linked to these Dark Arts? Azazel wondered to himself whether Willow could sense anything from him and began to question whether his meeting her like this was truly a coincidence, or whether it was fate.

Willow, please allow me to ask, these Dark Arts I see mentioned on various things around your shop, is this something you would consider yourself an expert on? I seek more knowledge then I would be able to explain in the brief time I have available right now. However, I would like to propose that you become my companion on this journey. I feel like there is much you could teach me and in return, I would be able to share with you some incredible stories, things which you probably never dared to believe were real.

It was an intriguing offer. Willow sent out tendrils of probing energy across the book and caressed the strangers hand with it. His shielding was good, and she didn't want to probe too hard unless she revealed her true power and nature. Hmm, difficult. VERY difficult. There was plenty of courage. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes. And a thirst to prove himself. Definitely not human though. Fey? No and not Demon either. She'd have smelled Demon or Vampire or heaven forbid Lycan as soon as he walked into the store. Celestial perhaps? She changed the pattern of the energy slightly and probed a little harder. There was power indeed. More than Ethan Rayne, more than Tara, more even than Rack. It was too hard to get an accurate read, but she was convinced he wasn't as powerful as her or Giles. No return or Glory or one of the other Powers here. She withdrew the power, momentarily satisfied that there was no real danger here. 

This had all taken the briefest of moments. She smiled at Azazel as she released the book.

"I suppose you could say I'm an expert of sorts, but not just of the dark arts. I would be happy to discuss this further with you and see if there was room for a mutually beneficial arrangement Azazel.

It had been a long time since someone had grabbed his interest like this but Azazel was satisfied that Willow_Rosenberg was the perfect companion for his journey in this new world. Bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect, Azazel placed the book in the bag Willow had provided for him and gave her his details, informing her that he would come by again in a couple of days

Thank you Miss Rosenberg, it was truly a pleasure. Should you have any questions before we next meet, please feel free to contact me at that address.

Azazel took one last look around the store before glancing over at Willow again, still in amazement at the chance meeting which had just occured

Willow waited until the door closed and the enigmatic stranger was out of sight before going to the restricted section. It would take some research to find this stranger... just as well she was a night owl... of sorts.

Azazel returned to the Magic Box and noticed that the store was empty and hadn't been used in a long time. He managed to sneak inside using his lock pick skills on the backdoor in the side alley.

Once inside, he made his way over to the restricted section which Willow had always seemed protective over. He remembered her saying that the books within that part of the store contained power magic and that they should only be read by someone highly skilled in the arts. Azazel had done a lot of reading since they last spoke and had learnt a great deal about the level of magic which was used in this world. There was only a number of historic practitioners that possessed a skill level which would deem them suitable for this section.

Searching around, he came across books that he would never even be able to say aloud. Books which could cause disaster should they fall into the wrong hands. He was after one book in particular, a very special book, one on how to contact the dead.

After close to an hour, he had found what he was looking for...

 

 The Book of the Dead 

 

Placing it within his jacket, he knew that he would need to do something about the rest of the ancient literature here before it was exposed. For now though, he needed to find a safe place and begin the next stage of his reading.

Still soaking wet from his rude awakening at Rayln's bar, Madara enters "The Magic Box" which coincidentally was what he nick named his favourite prostitute. 

He was clutching a soggy ingredients list. He had a hankering for some fruit cake and wanted to bake it himself, for the further satisfaction. He holds the list out in front of him and tries to decipher the contents:

 

• 2 cups self raising flour
• 1 cup butter
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 cups mixed fruit (include cherries if wished)
• 1 egg
• 5 tablespoons milk
• 1 teaspoon mixed spice (optional)

Madara enquired if he might be given speshul privileges on account of his awesomeness and buy the exact quantity of each ingredient. Not at all surprisingly the answer was "no" . He had to buy the ingredients the way they were packaged, the same normal usual way everybody anywhere any time had to purchase them, also. Madara understood, but it didn't stop him whining about it like a spiteful child.

Okay then, I will need...

1. 1 2.2lb bag of self raising flour, or all purpose flour and dried active yeast.
2.  2 sticks of unsalted butter
3. A 2.2lb bag of sugar
4. A bag of sultanas, some bananas, cherries and a tub of black berries.
5. A box of eggs, large. No free-range, those dudes mustn't have had a better life than me.
6. A carton of full fat milk. Skimmed milk is just water with white colouring in it, dafuq?
7. Whatever mixed spice is and whatever quantity it comes in. Although some Vanilla extract would be good, too.

After having it all bagged up, Madara kicks up a fuss about the refusal to double bag his groceries. He wondered what the point of being part of the mob was since he didn't seem to get any special privileges what so ever. He paid, promptly and left.