[NoR] - [28] - Chasing Tails

Razel pulled the door open, prepared to turn back whoever was interrupting them.

He was not prepared to see himself standing in the doorway, looking just as confused. After a long moment, the double turned and ran, taking off into the tunnels. Razel sighed heavily, turning to speak his farewell.

“That is why. I may or may not return.”

Razel tore after his duplicate, leaving Garrus to shrug and return to his saprolings. The tunnels were dank and pungent, lined with moss and slime. The waterways that cut down the middle of each tunnel fed the growths, while doubling as an environment for various undercity monstrosities. Razel spied the double taking a turn, speeding after it and making sure to keep pace. The moss in the tunnels was likely of Golgari origin, which meant that it was secretly observing everything. Knowing this, Razel kept his pursuit to a mortal pace, not wanting to arouse undue suspicion. The double tore a sword out of a passing skeleton’s chest, causing the bones to clatter into Razel’s path. He effortlessly raised his legs, simply gliding over the mess and resuming his pursuit uninterrupted. Amused by his duplicate’s feeble attempts at flight, he taunted it.

“Where are you going, Inquisitor?!”

The double looked around itself hurriedly, opting for the ladder up. It responded mid-leap over the tributary.

“Anywhere but here!”

It shot up the ladder, Razel in close pursuit. The ‘walker propelled himself across the water, landing directly on the ladder opposite with a resonant clang. The sight of the double running up the rungs urged him on, watching as it left the access way to flee down whatever path awaits. Razel sped up to the end of the climb, easing his head over the edge and spying the Inquisitor running along a set of ancient tracks in the darkness. A wave of power rippled down its arm and burst out of its fingers, igniting the entire hand in magical flame and casting a brilliant glow. Razel smiled, the ingenuity instilling a sense of narcissistic pride. The planeswalker’s footsteps never truly hit the ground, instead propelling him on before he reached the floor astride a cushioning blade of mental effort.

The double leaped onto a nearby platform, vaulting the edge and continuing down the hallway beyond. Razel bounded over the edge of the platform, landing in a crouch on the far wall before launching himself down the path after his duplicate. The portraits that flew by were caked in a thick layer of dust and muck, their images long since forgotten. Their path climbed the stairwell at the end of the hallway, spitting them out into an industrial terminal. Unused carts and derelict projects decayed quietly, while a shoddy ramp was built along the far wall to allow access up and out of the terminal. The double sped up the ramp, kicking up chunks of debris while his pursuer merely glided his way along the dirt and mortar.

The opening gave way to the undercity itself, a vast series of artificial caverns hidden by the crust of the metropolis overhead. Great support columns held the underside of the city high above, breaking up the otherwise expansive labyrinth. The closest of the columns was pierced at the base by another sewage tributary, with another ladder visible just inside. The double sprinted over to it, disappearing once more up a series of rungs.

Razel came to a stop, looking for witnesses. Comfortable in his relative solitude, he muttered the primary verbal component of his flight spell.

“Yu Mo Gui Gwui Fai Di Zao, Yu Mo Gui Gwui Fai Di Zao…”

The chant dissipated a nearby trash heap, piled taller than the walls containing it. The mess covered the floor, while Razel calmly walked to the center of it and looked directly up. As he chanted, the planeswalker lifted off of the ground, floating higher and higher. The column scrolled past him, the intricate foundations of the city growing clearer and clearer as he approached the access chute above. Once his gaze was even with the horizon of structure, it engulfed him, the patchwork tunnel never meant to be seen. It curved slightly further up, letting the mage out in a back alley, just beside an access path to what Razel assumed was the same ladder from below.

He bridged his fingers in impatient anticipation, a loud ‘gong’ from the doorway precluding the increasing tempo of footfalls on steel. The pattering of feet gave way to the double, crashing out of the hall and looking to the street before turning to run further into the alley. The duplicate skidded to a halt as he was confronted with his original.

“Took you long enough.”

The Inquisitor screamed unintelligibly, venting anxiety and calling the attention of several pedestrians, who leaned in to watch. With no warning, the double broke into a run once more. Razel cried out in frustration.

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!”

The passerby cried out in alarm as they were shoved unceremoniously out of the way, their eyes wide as the mage sped past. The visibility of the situation was uncomfortable to Razel. A bevy of witnesses now held knowledge of him chasing…himself. Something he may be able to pass off as a Dimir machination, but only if he refrained from breaking ‘character’. With teleportation and levitation out of the question, the pursuit continued on foot. The crowd was thick, folks falling over as the pair forced their way through. The density of the people began to thin while the traffic gradually changed to carts and wagons, prompting them both to maneuver awkwardly between the vendors and their wares.

The crowd parted abruptly, surprising the duplicate and sending him face first into the fountain in front of him. Wasting no time, he flopped to his feet, rolling out of the water and back on his way. Razel again pulled his knees to his chest, gliding effortlessly over the obstruction before him. The trail of water droplets stained the stone, leaving no ambiguity as to the double’s path.

The Pontiff, out for a night of relaxation, was surprised to see Inquisitor Korr barreling towards him. The thrull servants merped in confusion, leaping out of the way as the double came. The greeting was nearly shouted as he ran on.

“Your Grace!”

“Inquisitor…?”

The rippling man looked to the commotion following, seeing to his surprise none other than the Inquisitor, albeit in a significantly different attire. The Pontiff frowned at his associate, who offered another greeting.

“Your Grace!”

“Inquisitor…”

The thrull to his left cocked its head confusedly, while the one to his right picked at something in one of its orifices. Deciding not to press the issue, and recognizing a Dimir tactic of replacing problematic individuals, the Pontiff made the wise decision to forget about what he saw and continue with his night.

The noise drew the attention of a passing Boros Patrol, the two armored peacekeepers drawing their blades before gesturing to clear a path.

“HEY! STOP! YOU TWO!”

Their armor caused a cacophony of steel as they gave chase. The closest swung pointlessly at Razel’s back, his blade barely out of reach. The planeswalker jerked away, keeping his eye on his quarry. A large wagon pulled in front of the duplicate, its rear axle creaking pitifully. Without hesitation, the Inquisitor dove underneath it, sliding along the ground. Razel again felt a sting of narcissistic pride, choosing instead to shove the wagon forcibly out of the way as he drew near. The rough treatment proved too much for the axle, which snapped clean through. The wagon tipped, spilling fruit and trinkets into the street, tripping the Boros agents. The man driving the wagon stepped down to complain loudly, the string of large beads around his neck glinting in the gaslight.

The Inquisitor ducked into an open doorway, weaving through the museum, ignoring the patrons and ascending the stairwell at the back. Razel followed shortly thereafter, muttering apologies to those he passed on the way. The mage stopped briefly at each floor, the occupants always shaking their heads and gesturing up, indicating that he hadn’t come their way. On the eighteenth floor, the door opened to the roof. A large park spread behind the museum, while an ominous maintenance building loomed over the retreat from on top of a hill. Running to the edge, Razel saw his double struggling to free himself from a canopy below, succeeding, and running off toward the maintenance entrance. The planeswalker stepped off of the edge of the roof, landing briskly on his feet. He watched from afar in curiosity as the double grabbed its own wrist, jumping up and loosing an explosive flare beneath itself. The explosion launched it comically into the air, slamming the Inquisitor into a wall while still getting him up and onto the pathway above. The duplicate scrambled to its feet, tripped, and disappeared down a stairway.

Already at his wit’s end, and fairly certain he would not be able to return to the Orzhov for a long while yet, Razel gave up any semblance of secrecy and leapt with a glide to the walkway, stepping directly into his stride as he purposefully approached the doorway. The ‘walker stopped just inside, blocking most of the light behind him. Razel spoke with irritation in his voice, both for the forced ending of his life on Ravnica as well as the delay in solving his issues.

“I seriously don’t have time for this.”

The double panted heavily in exhaustion.

“GO DIE IN A FIRE!”

Razel smirked at the memory of an occasion where a township had attempted to burn him at the stake. The familiarity of the situation instilled a certain semblance of déjà-vu. He responded blithely.

“That’s been tried. Didn’t work.”

His overconfidence was practically tangible.

“Why do all my doubles scream at me, I wonder?”

The duplicate showed no sign of comprehension, its mental state already compromised.

“What are you talking about?! Why do you want to kill me?!”

More déjà-vu.

“And why do they always think I’m out to kill them?”

As if compelled to answer, the duplicate forced a response, sounding unsure of its own verbal composition.

“Maybe if you’d stop running me down I wouldn’t think you mean to end me.”

Razel raised a pair of fingers to his lips, responding in kind.

“Oh, I do mean to end you, but I don’t mean to kill you. You seem to have a funny concept of death.”

The double winced, unable to make sense of what was happening. His cringe turned to anger as he pulled forth a well of mana, lashing out magically. A wave of power erupted from the Inquisitor, pressing Razel back several feet. The energies dissipated as they touched the planeswalker, reabsorbing into his constituency.

“Tenacious. Too bad you can’t stop something with its own power.”

Another bolt of power shot into him, followed by a compacted fireball, a compressed blade of energy, and an arc of plasma. Each in turn simply melded with Razel, not harming him at all. Fed up with the attempt at resistance, Razel cast his hand aside, mentally tossing his duplicate further down the hall. He stepped coldly and cruelly towards the double, lecturing as he went.

“Your purpose has run its course, Inquisitor. You are a tool. My tool. I put you on your mission and you performed it admirably, I will assume. Regardless…it is time.”

The planeswalker warped himself to the duplicate, burying his fingers knuckle deep in its chest. The expression of confusion spread to Razel as he looked down, noting the luminous blue fissures spreading from the wounds. Unsure of the circumstances, he worriedly pulled back, watching as the glow intensified, consuming the double whole. With a loud ‘crack’ and a familiar pull, the double was gone, leaving in its place only a lingering sense of cold and a thoroughly disturbed planeswalker. Razel gawked in disbelief at the empty space. The scar in the multiverse hung gingerly where the Inquisitor had been, an outcome so remote that the ‘walker had not even considered preparing for it.