World Warlock: Case File Group One

Usually election days are tense, a change of power is nothing new within the United States, even more so one brought about by the vote of the people. But nothing could really compare the aftermath of the election of Aaron D. House. Special agent Quixote, who is me, was a kind of friend of sheriff Huey Long. I found him in the bar that the Republican National Committee was renting out as it went down, while those who call themselves The Workers Party, the Democrats, had their big conference Hall that they usually did. When the Electoral spoke, the response was Pharrell Williams "Happy,” much as the artist probably would not have wanted us to use this, but we didn't care. We legitimately thought better days were ahead. How could we be so right and so wrong at the same time? The only ones that were not dancing was me — well, me and good old Huey. His wife worked that day, so I was asked to be his plus one. As a practical joke that she would approve of me being a shape-shifter, I took a form that was almost a perfect replica of her, only shorter. Blonde hair, blue eyes and Scandinavian pale skin, not to mention she had a decent set of knockers on her. My friend Huey probably is one of the luckiest men on the planet if you ignore his full name. With this over, I didn't feel comfortable holding the form anymore. I unknotted my shirt and slowly change form, hairstyle changing from long waves of hair blonde hair to that of a spiky Brown, a generous bust retreating to that of the size of muscled pectorals, and the feminine structure changing to a masculine one in all departments, the shape-shifting of genitalia is often the hardest but I do it anyway to help maintain the cover in the event of perverts. Besides, I had that one general rule after the 80s: I don't drag anymore… way too easy to win with my set of talents, and it never felt right to shape-shift into a man pretending to be a woman, it’s simpler in my mind and psyche to just be. With my height changing from 5’11” to a comfortable six foot one, that is when my friend Huey finally caught me. "God damn it Don, someone's going to catch you doing that, eventually." Hubert Quisling Long, a Chinese man whose more human side of his appearance is heavily deceiving, at 6 ft 4 inches he is a little taller than most, a slim build that would have complemented an ancient pilot, he's less than human appearance with a 12-ft long east Asian dragon with red scales. Sheriff of New York, an anomaly for the town itself, which is historically the centerpiece of a blue state. He was a practicing Buddhist, which is already an anomaly within law enforcement, and he was also a Republican who kept winning with Landslide victories despite his opponents’ best efforts. But he was enjoying an e-cig with the usual custom juice he preferred, while I was enjoying a cigar from South Carolina. The fact they were legal now thanks to Obama didn't make me any more comfortable smoking a Cuban or worse, a joint from down in Amsterdam. He kind of felt the same way since he already had to cut back on the nicotine with him now being a father. "Everybody's too busy celebrating to give a damn and the only reason I'm here is because my political party is regarded as a joke, besides why aren't you celebrating." I buttoned my shirt back up as saying. Huey then took a large swig of his drink before speaking again. "We passed the test when the correct answers were not even on the ballot this year." "Carson?" I asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Carson,” he confirmed, giving a single firm nod, as if to add validity to his statement. This was a surprise for me, I’ve been a libertarian going on 20 years now. Carson was my clear choice if he made it to the final two, but to be straightforward, I always find myself surprised New York has not changed Huey. The air thick from a lack of ozone and industry despite what was happening upstate; the Statue of Liberty, once a golden bronze, now a tarnished and weathered green; a surprising analogy for what the state has become as a whole, especially within the city of New York itself. A city that has fallen under three states regarding the jurisdiction and how it has grown, a city without direction yet desperately trying to push in a direction that those who lived there at the beginning would never approve of in a million years. But now we were stuck between Sally Slit, an heiress to a curtain company who got into politics because business was not her strong suit, and Aaron D. House. Only a millionaire because he understood bankruptcy law to where he could exploit it, to where he literally could not lose at business so long as the fail-safes existed. Practically the definition of “too big to fail,” and his family was too stubborn to admit defeat every time they failed business spectacularly and from it learned how to do better next time. Which ultimately made Mr. House the richer of the two, despite Mrs. Slit's long outstanding service to the country. Unfortunately, her most recent tenure as the Secretary of State cost her to have her biggest failure that was actually borderline, if not crossed into treason. Her defeat at the hands of an educated populace was inevitable, however America was not known for educated voters then and to this day still isn't with many of them forgetting the most important rule of the internet, and many people spamming the internet with their truth rather than the truth. This complaint will come in handy later down the story of this I am sure.