Chapter 2 : Dumb ways to die

"Next!" The immigrations officer called out and I moved over to the window, taking a good look at the middle-aged, heavy set woman behind the counter, and began to go over my strategy. She looked like the typical government worker, the kind that wouldn't look out of place in a DMV. No ring on her finger, so she's single. That's an angle I can milk. Maybe her looks..... We'll see.

"Papers." She demanded with the clockwork precision of a seasoned veteran of her craft, tapping the counter with her pen.

"Yeah, here." I slid her the bundle of documents across the counter, into the slit in the window, and leaned against it with a friendly smile.

"Calendar Patel." She raised an eyebrow as she checked my passport, "That really your name?" She popped a smirk.

She had that accent, what was it called again?

Ah, cockney, yes.

"Yes." I smiled awkwardly, putting on a miserable expression, "Please don't make any jokes. I've heard them all."

"Don't worry about it. Not even the stupidest name I ever 'eard." She chuckled reassuringly, flipping through the documentation, "Term and purpose of visit?"

"A couple weeks. Tourism mostly. Wanted to see the Stonehenge and Big Ben, ride the London Eye, eat the world famous full english breakfast."

I lied.

I imagine saying 'I'm here to steal a magical button from a ghost' wouldn't exactly put me in their good graces. Not that I was in any in the first place, after that random security check and the two guards eyeing me like I was some terrorist.

Racist ass motherfuckers.

"Oh, and visit that fox conservatory in Birmingham." I added, pulling up a picture of the foxes on my phone, "Aren't they just the most adorable little fluffers you've ever seen?"

The woman looked up at the photos and smiled softly, her demeanor lightening along with it.

"Do you think they'll let me pet some?" I wondered aloud.

"If you ask them politely, they just might, laddie." She replied, finishing up with her checks.

"I sure hope so. It's a real shame my girlfriend couldn't make it. She'd have loved them." I sighed, adding another layer to my fake backstory. It was a trick I learnt from a CIA agent's memoir. Keep them talking, keep them distracted and they won't ask any unnecessary questions.

That aside, I also needed to line up possible character witnesses, in case my plans went south and I end up getting caught by the police. I had taken measures against being caught in the first place, but in case they somehow manage to connect the dots, I'd rather be prepared.

"What happened? Her visa didn't clear?" The woman asked.

"She broke up with me." I replied in a dejected tone. Gaining sympathy is important. That's how you get someone to remember you, by feeling not name, especially someone like her who had to go through line after line of nervous wrecks. Standing out, making her feel something and making a good impression.

"Ah, sorry." She cringed, thinking she'd stepped on a landmine.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." I said as an uncomfortable silence threatened to descend upon us, but I was prepared.

Leaning over, I looked at the woman with a smile. "Say, I still have her tour ticket with me. Would you like to go with me? I'd feel awkward, y'know, a grown man, going at it alone. If a beautiful lady like you were to tag along, I'd feel a whole lot better."

She was a solidly middle aged woman, a bit heavyset too. Single, with her worse than average looks..... The compliment worked wonders on her.

"Oh you~" The woman laughed, waving me off, "If I was ten years younger, maybe. Young laddie like you, it wouldn't be right."

"Why? Is it a rule or something?" I asked.

"Or something." She shook her head, denying me with finality but that little shy smile on her face was a dead giveaway she liked it.

"Well, that's a shame." I gave in, as she stamped my passport and handed it back to me, lightly rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb.

"You seem like a nice young man. I'm sure you'll find a nice girl soon." She gave a sympathetic look.

"One can only hope." I smiled.

"Welcome to London. I hope you have a pleasant stay."

"Thank you. I will." I gathered my papers and waved her goodbye.

Getting out of the airport I hailed a cab, and prepared to make a second good impression. This was going to be a long journey.

"Oh, a brother!" He noted our common nationality and chirped up.

I smiled and greeted him back.

"Where to?" The indian driver asked.

"The Plover Estate first, then the Hilton." I showed him the route on my phone, "And could you wait a minute while we're there. I need to check if they're open for tours today."

"Look man, no waiting. I hav-"

"I know. I know. I'll pay you for the wait."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" His attitude did a 180 immediately.

I chuckled.

"Alright. Lessgo!" He said and off we went.

What an enthusiastic taxi driver, though the extra couple of pounds certainly did help.

.

I ignored the chatty driver for a moment, after nearly an hour of good conversation, expounding on some tale of his aunt back in India and her new horticulture farm thingy, and looked around as we entered the neighborhood checking for the camera placements and angles of approach. Scoping out the target, casing it over, avoiding prying eyes, these were the basics of burglary.

And I must say, it was a nice suburban neighborhood. A bit rural but given the amenities I saw on the way, it was definitely upper middle class. That meant a lot more cameras and definitely a lot of prying eyes. Nosy neighbours, people going in and out. I'd need to play this smart.

Thankfully, there wasn't too much surveillance. I spotted a few routes in, a couple of walls to jump, a few windows and lines of sight to avoid. Nothing I couldn't get past. That was a relief.

In the show it was easy breaking into the house because the protagonists had magic. I, on the other hand, was a muggle. I couldn't just magically short the cameras. I wasn't born with magic after all, hence this whole quest to get it. But it was still far from impossible, with the right tools.

Silently, I made a list in my mind of the things I'd need.

A mask, something inconspicuous, like a face mask, to conceal my identity. I had already brought along a beanie to hide my head and sunglasses to accompany that, if needed. Though the whole combination would probably raise more suspicion than if I just walked right in.

As we neared the estate, I couldn't help but look on with a little bit of awe as it came into view. The villa wasn't particularly big, but it had a weight to it that was hard to ignore, looming over its surroundings with its stark victorian style, cold stonework that could last a hundred generations, in contrast to the fairly modern houses in the rest of the neighborhood. I took note of the high grate walls, each topped with spikes. So something to scale that because I knew for a fact that there were cameras at the entrance. One camera looking out to the street, by the door. One looking over the backyard. There could be more but I couldn't spot them over the walls.

Still that made it clear that the front and back are off limits. I'll have to go in through the side.

Now to scale that spiked fence.... A ladder won't do. I can't carry a ladder everywhere and I was certainly not leaving it behind, it would only clue the police in to my identity. So ropes then. I could sling a hoop on the spike, shimmy my way up and jump down. Easy to take with me too.

Alright. Now for the locks. I did plan on buying a lockpick set, but maybe some bolt cutters would do well too, just in case. Old house like this has got to have some of those thick old timey padlocks.

Then there was the matter of self defence. Nothing I could buy would work against a ghost, sure, but I wasn't planning on facing down a ghost anyways. And once I did steal that magical button and entered the local multiversal nexus that was the Neitherlands, I would have to face up against the mercenaries hired by the Beast, an otherworldly monster from Fillory, this world's Narnia-equivalent, to stop anyone from moving between worlds. And all of that before I even have magic.

So I'd definitely need something that can one-shot them, before they can chuck a fireball at me. Because I know for a fact they can chuck a mean fireball.

So, pepper spray, tasers, maybe a knife, just in case.

Finally, I needed to know the layout of the house so I waste as little time as possible searching. Hence the tour.

"Here we are. Is this the place?"

"Yeah. Hold on." I peeked out the window and saw the doors closed.

"Looks like it isn't open yet." I pursed my lips, as I saw his expression turn.

Hey, you didn't want to stick around in the first place, so don't make that face.

"I'll have to come back later." I added chuckling at the sour look on his face from missing that promised waiting fee, "I'll still pay you for the wait."

Immediately his mood turned for the better.

"You're a good man, brother. A man of his word!" He sang my praises and I laughed.

"Alright, alright, enough. Let's go."

"Hilton then?" He asked for confirmation.

"Yes."

.

Once I had freshened up, I settled into my hotel room, a very expensive one at that, the Hilton wasn't cheap, but the brand name recognition would help me win favor with both the police and the judges in court too, the same way rich people get 'reduced sentences' that are basically a slap on the wrist for even heinous crimes. Money speaks, wealth whispers and those words are very, very convincing.

The logic being, 'why would someone that can afford to stay at the Hilton break into the home of an author to steal something?' in case the police don't have enough evidence to put me behind bars and 'he is just an obsessive fan who deeply regrets his actions and meant no harm' in case I get taken to court.

Not that I planned on getting caught or leaving enough breadcrumbs behind for the police to catch a trail but I was going to pull a risky maneuver later in this trip that might just get me in trouble.

Sitting on the queen sized bed, I pulled out my laptop, and check a very specific folder on it. I checked the time and date, and memorized it for later and clicked on it.

It was empty.

An involuntary sigh escaped my lips.

"Looks like future me hasn't left any instructions for me." I leaned back into the bed rest and rubbed my eyes.

The timeshare spell failed.

A little worrying but nothing too difficult to understand. It just meant one of my temporal countermeasures had didn't pan out. It was like a less shitty version of a time turner, minus the threat of time paradoxes.

Ideally, a future version of me would use the spell to swap his consciousness with mine, across time, and leave me a detailed set of instructions, advising me on possible traps and mistakes he had made in his timeline and how I could avoid them.

I don't know what happened, but I'm not seeing any instructions. No report, no dossier. Nothing.

Maybe I never found the timeshare spell, maybe I died to something or someone, stepped on one of the dozen or so metaphorical landmines that made up this 4D chess with literal multiverse time travel ass, minefield of a world.

I found that I was hyperventilating and took a few deep breaths to calm myself.

Okay. So it didn't work.

Whatever. No biggie. It's only my life that's on the line.

I chuckled dryly at my own stupid joke.

Plans never survive first contact with the enemy. It was to be expected. I'll just have to play it by the ear then.

At least it's not too bad. I'm safe for now.

Just to be sure, I opened Quentin's facebook again and checked. He was still in the middle of finishing his last year at Columbia University. That means the plot hasn't started yet. I think I have a little over half an year before the plot of the shows kicks off.

Since the whole time loop bullshit only starts when he graduates, I still have about eight months to prepare for insane rollercoaster ride that was the plot of the show.

Eight months till the timelines split.

Eight months till I know what timeline I'm stuck in.

Eight months to master magic before I become forever stuck in a time loop. Eight months to prepare to break right out of it.

And on the way, more obstacles than I could count and over three dozen dumb ways I could wind up dead.

I sighed.

I hate challenges.

But magic.... I love it. The idea of it. The thought of being a wizard. An actual wizard. Traveling the multiverse. If I must put my life on the line for it ....

I felt a smile blooming on my lips.

I'd do it ten times out of ten.

I checked the time again.

Alright. It was barely noon and I had scheduled the last tour of the day at 5 pm. Plenty of time for some last minute shopping.

I pulled up a list of the necessities, stuffed my neatly folded and taped up mountaineering bag into my leather messenger bag, and got ready to go to town.

Tonight, I enter the multiverse. And tomorrow, I become a magician.

___________________

A bit of a prelude but next time, it's balls to the wall action baby!

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