For the last four years, Tommy Karras had dealt with a lot. He found out he wasn't human, had magic powers...and happened to be the reincarnation of not only his biggest idol, but an actual god.
And that wasn't half as weird as ending up in the public eye.
Which was why he was heading down the street in a baseball cap, a pair of sunglasses, and a deep frown as he tried to hide his presence and look around at the same time. He was happy working for Channing, but her television special last year hadn't just been good for her career--it somehow turned Tommy into a household name, and he'd only been on the damn thing in his supporting role in her show. Sure, he designed a couple of her illusions--and yeah, most of the hype was from women...
Jelly was right: ten seconds with his shirt off, and he was never going to find peace again.
That made his role as a member of the Fraternity trickier to deal with. Normally, being well known was a good thing for an avatar, but today he had to be careful not to get noticed.
Not when someone's life was on the line.
Stopping next to a condo, Tommy pulled out his cell phone and checked his photo album for the picture of his latest painting he'd taken. Epimetheus had been the Titan god of hindsight, meaning that Tommy could see the future--based on an omnipotent knowledge of all that was past. It manifested in weird visions that came when he painted, visions that rarely did him any damn good when it came to using them...
Except for this time. This time, he had a chance--because he knew he'd seen the thing he'd painted before.
Looking up, Tommy squinted at the balcony overhead. The plant in the corner of the broad patio balcony was odd enough to stand out--to be remembered. Especially the godawful pot it was planted in...
Pocketing his phone--containing a painting of that same fucking plant, dripping with fresh blood--Tommy laid his hand on the locked knob of the building's gate and shut his eyes. It would be more secure if the lock was a keypad...he'd be able to get through it, but still...
Twisting the moment the tumblers slid home, Tommy slipped into the courtyard, heading for the entrance of the building.
It took him a few minutes, but finally managing to hit the right floor, and what he hoped was the right door, Tommy lifted his hand to knock. As he waited for an answer, he looked around, standing in a fashion that could only be called awkward.
When the door was answered by a vivacious redhead, she would find a man standing there, roughly six feet tall with a mane of jet black hair cascading from beneath a Dodgers hat. Having removed his sunglasses, which were now hooked on the collar of his fatigued t-shirt, she'd get a look at chiseled Mediterranean features that went well with the heavily muscled body they were attached to--dressed with strange idiosyncrasy in fashionably fatigued jeans and graphic t-shirt, along with a pair of sandals that did not match the outfit.
Or the gaudy handcuff necklace hanging against his chest.
Turning abruptly when the door opened, Tommy met the woman's gaze--and was oddly struck.
...over me you cast a spell...my one sweet...
"Hi." he greeted her with a shy, sheepish smile and a soft Brooklyn accent. "I, uh...ah, crap, this is gonna sound really weird. Uhm--I'm Tommy, prolly oughta lead with that..."
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