It was a normal day in New York City. It was 3:00 pm, and people were going about their business.
This is when things took a slight turn.
A screaming hole in reality tore itself across the clouds like someone yanked open the zipper of the universe. Out of it fell a man in a purple robe.
The impact shook the block. Birds scattered. A hot dog cart tipped over. Three people took out their phones and immediately began livestreaming.
The man landed in a pile of garbage behind a dry cleaner on 7th Avenue.
There was silence.
Then, from beneath the trash bags, came a muffled voice:
"Ow. My bones. I need those."
He sat up slowly, emerging from the refuse like a greasy, confused phoenix. His robe was covered in mustard. His hair looked like it had lost a fight with static electricity and lost again in a rematch. He clutched a long, wooden staff in one hand and a slice of pepperoni pizza in the other, which he did not remember grabbing.
"What is this bizarre triangle? Could it be some sort of scroll?"
The man examined the slice of pizza with unwavering focus, before hurling it against a wall. He raised a staff that had landed next to him, and shouted out.
"Revelavi!"
The slice of pizza began to display a holographic screen listing the ingredients that was used to make it.
The man squinted at the floating hologram.
INGREDIENTS: Wheat Flour. Tomato Paste. Cow Cheese. Nitrated Pork Circle. NYC Air Particulates.
He nodded solemnly.
"I knew it. This scroll was cursed."
He waved the hologram away like a man dismissing bad stock advice.
Standing up, he dusted himself off with the confidence of someone who had never been taught how to function in polite society and had no plans to learn now.
The wooden staff in his hand pulsed faintly with cosmic power—or possibly just indigestion. The man looked around, eyes wide, gaze darting between alley walls, a nearby rat, and a Diet Coke can.
"Kevin," he said suddenly. "Show yourself."
The rat did not respond.
"Very well. If you won't assist me, I'll navigate this realm alone."
After taking about two steps, he tripped on a curb, and face planted clear into the pavement.
He stood up immediately, unshaken.
This was Magical Mack. He was two things:
A powerful wizard.
And a man with unmedicated, unfiltered, absolutely unhinged schizophrenia.
He took a deep breath, squinted at the street ahead, and stepped forward with purpose. His sandals squelched slightly from the trash juice still clinging to them. He didn't notice.
Ahead of him was a descending staircase, partially covered in graffiti and sticky handrails. A sign above read:
SUBWAY ENTRANCE – 7th Ave Station
Mack froze.
"Ah. A descent into the Earth Realm."
He looked up solemnly at the sky.
"Trial number two. You just couldn't let me rest, could you, Tribunal?"
He approached the stairway cautiously, raising his staff with exaggerated ceremony.
"I accept this quest. I will journey into the underbelly of the beast and retrieve the Artifact of Movement, or die trying."
A man walking past him muttered, "It's just the subway, bro," and kept going.
Mack ignored him.
He descended slowly, as though each step might explode. When he reached the bottom, he saw it: The glowing, humming box of destiny.
The MetroCard machine.
It emitted a low, ambient hum and blinked with lights. Mack stared at it in reverence.
"The Oracle of Steel."
He approached cautiously. The machine beeped.
Mack jumped back and whispered, "It's sentient."
He turned to a woman buying a card.
"Careful, citizen. It feeds on despair."
She gave him a sideways look and moved three feet to the left.
Mack turned back to the Oracle. He pulled from his robe a handful of mysterious objects: a bottle cap, two quarters, a chunk of amethyst, and what appeared to be a chicken nugget wrapped in string.
"These should suffice."
He began pressing random buttons, jamming coins into the receipt slot and whispering incantations.
"By the spirits of endless transfer fees—reveal to me your secrets!"
The screen read:
ERROR: PLEASE SWIPE CARD OR INSERT EXACT CHANGE.
Mack screamed and pointed at the screen.
"It speaks in riddles!"
Suddenly, the woman next to him inserted her card, bought a fare, and walked away through the turnstile.
Mack gasped.
"She... she paid the blood toll."
He stepped up to the turnstile and placed his palm on it like a priest feeling for divine energy.
"If this is how I must enter the Earth Labyrinth... so be it."
He took one step forward, walked into the turnstile without swiping, and immediately got smacked in the thighs.
"AGH! The Gatekeeper has denied me!"
A nearby MTA worker shouted, "Hey, man, you gotta swipe your card!"
Mack turned dramatically.
"Get him, Kevin!"
Now of course, Kevin was not real and the worker began walking toward him.
Mack made a quick decision.
e gritted his teeth, raised his staff, and shouted:
"You leave me no choice, foul gate beast. I invoke the Rite of Exploding Argument!"
He spun toward the MetroCard machine, pointed his staff directly at its blinking interface, and yelled:
"INFLAMMATUS FINANCIUM!"
The staff pulsed, cracked, and let out a burst of magical static. There was a sound like a miniature supernova just got a breakup text.
Big boom.
A small but aggressive explosion engulfed the MetroCard machine in a gout of purple smoke and flickering sparks. The screen shattered. The card reader caught fire. The machine began making a high-pitched whining noise, like a haunted fax machine begging for death.
People screamed.
Someone dropped their iced coffee and sprinted for the stairs. A pigeon flew through the smoke like it was being paid overtime to add atmosphere.
Mack turned to the stunned crowd, looking immensely pleased with himself.
"The Oracle has been silenced," he said proudly. "Your fiscal tyranny ends today!"
The MTA worker was now running.
"You just blew up a MetroCard machine!"
Mack spun, robe flaring.
"Yes! And I would do it again! That metal demon tried to eat my nugget!"
He bolted for the platform, leaping over a bench like a particularly unstable action hero. His robe caught on a pole and nearly strangled him. He kept running.
"TO THE UNDERGROUND SERPENT! I MUST CATCH THE SOUL WAGON BEFORE IT DEVOURS THE WEAK!"