I've written D&D fiction. I've written Superhero fiction. Now...
Johnathan walked alongside Wayn, keeping an eye both on his companion and the city around them. Wayn walked stiffly, keeping his arms close to his sides and his head straight forward. Wayn attracted glances as the pair proceeded down the street; even in Freedom City, men wearing ponytails, silver circlets and grey robes were not a common sight. Johnathan sympathized; he knew all too well how it felt to be a stranger in a very strange land.
Wayn cleared his throat. "To your earlier point; you had said that you were going to attempt to explain index funds to me again?"
Johnathan nodded. "OK. It's like this. Merchants and traders make money, yes?"
Wayn considered for a moment. "I would assume so, given the continued existence of merchants and traders."
"OK." Johnathan said. "That's the first important point there. Businesses work. If you take someone with acumen, skill, dedication, and luck, they can make money, and make money reliably."
"Reliably?" Wayn raised an eyebrow. "Even positing the factors you mention, a merchant's business can still fail."
"How?" asked Johnathan. "I mean, I know how. But what ways are you thinking of that merchants tend to fail?"
Wayn considered again. "Wars, assuming they are not weapon merchants." he said. "Plague or famine, if they are. Robbery, or new taxes, or dragons- but I am told there are very few dragons here."
"Very, very few." Johnathan confirmed. "And here in this country, war, plague, famine, and high-end robbery are all combated by either science, the superheros, or both."
"Ideal conditions for merchants, then." said Wayn.
"Exactly." said Johnathan. "Now, the next important point is that a successful business can make more money the more money it has."
"That sounds intuitive." said Wayn. Beside them, squealing tires, blasts from a car horn, and shouted profanity announced a car engaged in an unorthodox method of passing. Wayn whipped around, arms raised, looking for threat. Seeing none, he turned back to Johnathan, sheepishly lowering his arms.
"Apologies." Wayn said. "I am still unused to the actions of these automobiles."
"Hey, no biggie." said Johnathan. "Drivers like that startle me, too, and I grew up here. And at least you didn't do what Kore did."
"Indeed." said Wayn, resuming the walk forward.
"So." said Johnathan. "So, if merchants - business owners - can make money, why doesn't everyone loan to them?"
"I do not loan to them because I spend my gold purchasing reagents, books, and magical supplies." said Wayn. "However, in the general case, I would say that people do not generally loan their money to merchants because they do not have the money to spare, and because of the risk inherent in all loans. Even if merchants are succeeding and making money as a whole, there is no guarantee that any individual merchant will turn a profit."
"Exactly!" said Johnathan. "And that is what mutual funds are for. Say you study merchants and find out that for every twenty merchants who start businesses, eleven go on to become successful and profitable. That's a reasonable number, right?"
"Again, I have not studied the matter." said Wayn. "However, it seems like a reasonable estimate in light of our previous conclusions. Proceed with you example."
"Now, if you pick a merchant and loan your money to him, you've got a 45% chance of losing your money. Even with a 55% chance of making your money back and then some, that's a bad risk for most people. So, don't pick a merchant. Pick ten, or a hundred, or a thousand. Divide up the money you would have given to one to all of them."
Wayn stopped dead, cocked his head, and stroked where his goatee would have been were Wayn capable of growing one. "Risk from the individual merchants would be minimized. Yes. I see. And with a few elementary divinations..."
Through the noise in the city, over the voices and traffic and blaring radios, Johnathan was abruptly aware of the sounds of a guitar a few blocks away. He felt the pennywhistle he wore at his side respond. Recorded or reproduced music faded into the background, becoming a kind of background static to Johnathan's new senses, but live music called to him. Johnathan sighed, pushing the sensation to the back of his mind. There would be time for that later.
Wayn remained stopped, his mind obviously awhirl with new possibilities.
"The costs involved-" Wayn muttered.
"That's why you get a lot of people doing it." said Johnathan. "One person buying into a thousand businesses won't affect any of them much, but a thousand investors? That kind of money can cause serious growth. And that growth means more businesses and more investors both."
"Incredible." said Wayn. "Such a simple idea. Obvious even, once it has been pointed out. And it is utterly unheard of in my world. Enforced though it may be, I do believe that this sojourn to your world may be most beneficial to us."
"I hope so." said Johnathan. "And not just to you. This is my home, after all."
"Indeed it is." said Wayn. "Now, let us continue our travel to the bank." said Wayn. "I find myself with a great desire to learn more about mutual funds."
Johnathan continued to explain modern finance to Wayn, reflecting on the current turn of events. Two years ago, the closest he had imagined coming to the superhumans was seeing the Freedom League at a parade; that was before Johnathan had walked around the block one day to find Adrian Eldritch battling an unknown supervillain, been caught in the magical backlash, and been sent to another world. Three months ago, Johnathan had stood with his new companions on the slopes of the Ashmounts, still barely aware of the powers present in the Whistle of McGillivray. He had sworn with them to fight for a world he had known only for a few months, and fought he had. Together, he and his companions had faced Umbral's hordes, stormed its fortress, and unbound the Seal of Shadows Umbral had sought to control. Nothing in the World should have been able to survive that; according to Wayn, a last flicker of unbinding magic had whisked Johnathan home, and brought his companions with him.
Johnathan smiled to himself as he entered Freedom Second Bank. He had read many stories about people being transported to strange worlds of fantasy, wonder, and adventure. Few of them had those swept up return to their own world with companions, potent magical artifacts, and tens of thousands of dollars worth of precious metal and jewels.
Johnathan frowned as he observed the long line inside the bank, and beckoned Wayn to follow him into it. The security guard paid no attention to Wayn's nontraditional attire, Johnathan noticed. He also noticed that his acquired reflexes were still going strong; he had noted the single set of doors and pair of large windows as the entry and exit points, and scanned the crowd for anyone armed or paying close attention to him. Wayn, he was certain, had done the same. Johnathan frowned, considering his own thoughts carefully. He noticed Wayn turn to him and raise an eyebrow silently. The taciturn wizard hated to have his own thoughts interrupted, and as such was careful to avoid interrupting the thoughts of others. Still, he could make it clear when he was interested in chatting, if you paid attention.
"Just thinking about heroes." said Johnathan. "In your world, a hero is whoever stands forth with sword or faith or magic to defend others."
"Indeed." said Wayn.
"It's... well, it's different here. I mean, you can be a policeman or a soldier, sure, but the big things? Things like Gorongoth or Umbral? The superheros handle those here."
Wayn nodded, letting him continue.
"I know I have what it takes to be a hero in your world." says Johnathan. "I mean...well..."
"Given that the survival of any in all but the farthest reaches of the World was directly contingent on your actions in the Seal chamber, I believe few would gainsay you on your claims of herodom." said Wayn.
"Yeah." said Johnathan. "With Kelder's training and a magical pennywhistle, I can be a hero there. But does that mean I can be a hero here?"
Wayn paused for a moment, considering. As he opened his mouth to reply, there was a loud concussion from behind them, a shattering of glass, and a dull thud. Both Wayn and Johnathan whirled, Johnathan snatching for his rapier. It wasn't there; he had left it at home to avoid a scene at the bank. The security guard had collapsed, unconscious or dead, and men in masks carrying handguns were pouring into the bank. A man and woman wearing black clothing and day-glo jewelry swaggered in.
"Rant and Rave are in da house!" the man shouted. Johnathan recognized him now. He and Rave (his sister) were superhuman criminals, and dangerous ones.
"Everyone stays cool, no one gets in our way, no one gets hurt. Got it?" Rave asked. Around them, the other patrons and bank tellers were beginning to panic as the situation set in.
Wayn smiled thinly at Johnathan. "It appears that the gods have decided to let you answer your own question." he said. "How convenient of them."
"Wayn, go home. Get the others. Bring them in, full-kit." said Johnathan.
"That will take time." said Wayn.
"I'll distract them. Go in five-count." said Johnathan. The jargon of the adventuring company was still there, he realized. It was just like before, in the orcish barracks or stalling for time on the walls of Kerathis. Johnathan walked boldly out from the panicking crowd, and swallowed as all of the masked men's guns suddenly pointed in his direction.
"Hi!" he said brightly. Let them talk, he prayed. If violence broke out, he couldn't keep things contained by himself, but if they talked to him...
"Who the hell are you?" said Rave. "And why the hell are you up here talking to me?" Rave frowned, as if realizing what kind of person was prone to walking up to a pair of notorious superhumans and a group of armed men without a care in the world.
"I'm Johnathan!" Johnathan continued rapidly. "I am here to negotiate for this bank." As he spoke, Johnathan heard a quiet pop of moving air from behind him, as if a Wayn-shaped hole had just been filled in.
"Negotiate?" Rave frowned. "What the hell are you going to negotiate with?"
"With music!" said Johnathan. McGillivray's Whistle was suddenly in his hand. As he raised it to his lips, Rave shouted "Stop him! He's-"
It was too late. The moment he started to play the whistle, an eerie melody echoed through the bank. He was playing The Cuckoo's Nest, Johnathan realized as his brain caught up to his mouth and fingers, and it was working. The magic of McGillivray's Whistle was working; Rant, Rave, and the men were all listening enraptured. It wouldn't be enough to hold them, Johnathan realized as he finished the first strain of the music. He needed something more. He paused for a four-count, marshaling the magic of the Whistle, then began again. This time, the eerie harmonies and half-tones of the Whistle were replaced by synthesized beats and electric guitar. Halfway through his improvised techno remix, the bank patrons finally got the idea and started to quietly file out of the bank. There was a brief scuffle at the door as some of the patrons fought to get out first, but Johnathan launched into a drum-and-synth solo on the whistle and managed to hold the attention of the would-be robbers. Two minutes, he thought to himself. If they were prepped beforehand, the team could be ready for teleportation into a combat zone in two minutes. If they weren't, it would take longer.
It didn't matter, Johnathan realized with a rush. The song ended, and he began to improvise, keeping the beat and spinning a new melody out of the whistle. Eight men with guns, Rant, and Rave, he counted. All were watching him, listening enthralled. He could play for two minutes, or five, or on until he could play no more, and they would keep on passively listening. As long as nothing broke the spell-
Beside him, there were four quiet pops. Johnathan stopped playing immediately and stepped into their midst as his companions appeared. Rant, Rave, and the men looked around, confused. Kelder and Kore stood in front, both in full armor. Kore hefted his greathammer menacingly, and Kelder held his own ancestral sword and Johnathan's rapier. Wayn stood behind them next to Johnathan, his hands alight with magical energy. Johnathan didn't see Gareth, but that was expected for a teleport into a hostile area.
"The authorities have been alerted and are on their way." said Kelder. "Surrender or-"
Johnathan saw the response coming and raised McGillivray's Whistle to his lips again. As Rant shouted and launched another blast of sonic energy at Johnathan and his companions, Johnathan played a single note on the whistle, matching Rant's sonic pulse. For almost a second, the competing forces held in balance, and then Rant's pulse overwhelmed the Whistle and burst forth over Johnathan. It had been greatly weakened by the Whistle's destructive interference, but it still hit like a punch in Johnathan's unarmored gut.
In response, Wayn stepped between Kelder and Kore, and gestured. There was a flash of blue light, and a wave of ice and elemental cold poured forth from the wizard's hand and engulfed the robbers. As it faded, Kelder and Kore charged Rant and Rave, Kelder tossing Johnathan's rapier to him as he did so.
Before they finished their charge, a shivering and gasping Rave managed to gesture and raise her voice. As she did so, Johnathan's view of the bank suddenly warped, as Rave's power began to distort sight and sound.
Johnathan shrugged off the impact from Rant's sonic attack and spent precious seconds staring into Rave's illusions. He could nullify the audial component of Rave's distortions, but that would leave him and his companions still unable to see properly. But until he did counter Rave's audial distortion, the more subtle abilities of the Whistle were useless. Still, there was one thing he could do. Johnathan remembered the guns in the men's hands as clearly as he could, pushed the mental image into the Whistle, and played. This aspect of the Whistle's powers could nullify and counter, when used against a coherent sound or set of sounds. But when the Whistle matched a physical object...
Johnathan suddenly cracked the note as violently as he could. As he did, he saw through the distortion every man still upright and holding a gun yelp and flinch as their weapons exploded into metal and plastic shards. It seemed that was enough to dissuade all of the masked men but one; that one raised his fists, took a swing at what looked like empty air, then collapsed as Kelder struck the man's head with the flat of his blade. The masked man collapsed, and Johnathan jumped reflexively as he felt the man collapse in front of him. Johnathan heard another sonic blast through the distortion and dodged randomly. He couldn't tell if the blast had been aimed at him or another... but Rant had, or he wouldn't have used it. Rant and Rave's men had been using her guns, too. The distortion Johnathan was hearing and seeing had to be restricted to him and his companions. Johnathan took another breath, played three distinct notes, then unleashed pure sonic hell with the fourth. He made no effort to weave the music around his companions, focusing instead on playing what he knew instead of what he could hear.
As he watched, the distortions collapsed, revealing the bank again. Rave stood with her hands over her ears, her concentration lost for a vital moment, and in that moment, Kore stepped forward, bellowed "For the Light!" and struck her with his hammer, hard enough to lift her from the ground and knock her back.
Johnathan hastily stopped his cacophony before it could affect his companions and turned to Rant, who cried out as his sister flew back. He turned from Wayn, wordlessly took a shallow cut from Kelder as he dodged desperately, and ran desperately for his sister, who was getting to her feet.
"You'll pay for that!" Rant screamed as he reached Rave. "You'll pay! You'll all p- augh!"
A drop of blood oozed from the side of Rant's neck. Beside him, a shallow cut across the length of Rave's neck also began to bleed.
"Don't do anything." came a whisper in the sudden silence. "Don't move. Especially don't talk. Either of you speaks a word, that's the last word either of you will speak."
His invisibility broken by his attack, Gareth shimmered into view behind Rant and Rave. He held a dagger in each hand, one pressed to either of their throats.
Rave closed her eyes. After a moment, the words YOUR NOT ALLOWED TO KILL US shimmered into view as Rave exercised her power.
"Who said anything about killing?" said Kelder cheerfully. "Kore here is a battle-cleric of the Light that Preserves. He can patch a slit throat no problem. But popped vocal cords? That's a mite trickier. Now, Gareth there is a bit twitchy. Dunno how quick either of you can open your mouths, but I'll wager he's quicker. So if either of you want to speak again - ever - you'll stay still and silent now. With me? Good! Don't nod. Wayn, Kore, restrain the pair of them, if you please."
"About time you did something." grumbled Kore as he approached.
"I couldn't fucking see anything." Gareth replied. "Knife work requires precision, if you don't want bodies everywhere. Of course, some people don't care about collateral-"
Kore raised a gauntleted fist and dropped heavily on Rant's head, who dropped. At the same time, Wayn reached out and touched the side of Rave's face; she gurgled once and collapsed.
"Down and out, Kelder." Wayn announced.
"Good. Gareth, help me check the rest of these fine gentlemen. John, start tying... dammit. I forgot the rope."
"That's not a problem." said Johnathan. "Uh, are the police actually on their way."
"I dialed the phone as you showed me before we left. A nine and a one and a one." confirmed Wayn.
"Great." said John. Wayn truly was beginning to adapt to life in this world. "Did the operator tell you when the police were supposed to arrive?"
Wayn paused. "The phone was supposed to talk afterwords?" he asked.
Johnathan restrained a sigh. He had showed Wayn how to dial 911. Apparently, he had forgotten to mention what happened after that. "Uh. It's not a problem. Alright, now, things happen a bit differently here. 911 call or not, the police will be here soon. Here's what we're going to do..."
---
OK, for reference. One of the universes I'm writing in here (Namely, the World of Freedom universe, which contains Freedom City) is not mine. I will be trying to document everything that's not mine.
So, Freedom City and the wizardly hero Adrian Eldritch are definitely not mine. Rant, Rave, and in fact the explicit setup of having some of the party unprepared and in the bank when the robbery happens are also not mine, and are in fact part of the introductory adventure. The adventure was balanced for four PL 10 heroes, with the assumption that the heroes would be learning the system. A party of five PL 10 adventurers, who are all veteran combatants, have complementary abilities, and consider strange people wreaking havoc until persuaded to do otherwise with egregious violence not so much "new and frightening" as "my day job" have little trouble with this adventure, as shown.
There were actually a few additional wrinkles that could have happened in the intro adventure, had the heroes not cleverly removed the hostages from the bank before combat started, and if Gareth hadn't jumped in at just the right time.