THE MOMENT
"Impossible!" The imposing stranger in a pink polo shirt and blue jeans continued his calm, steady pace toward the Archmage. "How can you still move?" He asked in terror as he took several steps back. All around them, time was frozen. Pedestrians were locked in time as they fled several blocks away. Flames remained static and crumbling rubble kept firm; all of it was collateral destruction as heroic adventurers threw themselves against the villain. Yet, he kept moving forward, unstoppable. "My spell stops time!" It was a ridiculous thing to say, but the Archmage was panicking for the first time in his life. He'd never faced anyone like this. The strongest monks, and deadliest assassins didn't even break his stride, and he'd stood there watching it all, hesitating to use his full strength. And when he finally did, it wasn't anywhere near enough. He thought that if maybe the mountainous man knew he was supposed to be frozen in time, maybe it would suddenly work.
"Yeah, that's the problem right there buddy," he chuckled. "You created a spell to stop time when you should have created a spell that stops me." Except, his grin disappeared in an instant, and a concerned expression overtook his face. And, he actually came to stop. "Wait." He tilted his head at the Archmage. "Did you say 'Spell'?"
"What?" The Archmage was confused by the sudden question. But, the important thing was that the stranger stopped advancing. If he was willing to talk, the Archmage had other plans he could put into motion. "Of course. Do you think time can be stopped without the use of powerful magics?" he replied.
"No no... wait...," the stranger shook his head first, then he spun around slowly to survey the damage. He'd been avoiding any killing blows, and there were no corpses around, but there was plenty of abandoned equipment. Shattered swords, discarded staves, and more useless equipment told the tale of the dozens of adventurers who braved his path. "Ahhh son of a -,"
His disappointment in himself was interrupted by a sudden burst of flame against his face. He blinked as the flames dissipated, then sighed. The Archmage was further back and gathering more heated magic in his hands.
"You don't have to -," another fireball exploded in his face. It felt like a warm summer breeze to him as the fire couldn't find anything to burn and faded away. "Yeah, I'm just gonna -," he reached into his pocket as another fireball landed. This one felt warmer, and wetter somehow. He reached up to wipe the blazing plasma off his face, then shook it off his hand. Sparks hissed as it started eating the pavement. "I want Supers, not spellcasters...," he cleared his mind and focused on what he wanted as he dropped the card to the ground. He wasn't sure how he ended up on that Earth instead of one with Supers, but he'd been distracted a lot lately, and his Mistress had been working up a bigger appetite than usual. He chalked it up to being tired and stepped onto the black portal to sink into it.
With him gone, the Archmage relaxed finally. Time began again. The pedestrians fleeing for their lives sensed a change somehow. They stopped and turned to see the exhausted Archmage standing alone among the rubble with the villain nowhere in sight. He saved the city, and likely the world. For centuries to come, he would be acknowledged as the greatest Archmage in the history of the world. His fame was so singular, he was simply known as 'The Archmage'. Yet, three weeks after the event, no one even remembered his name.
In another world somewhere, an imposing figure in a pink polo shirt and blue jeans walks a downtown street. He leaves havoc in his trail, hoping to attract some super-heroic attention, and he smiles when the first capes arrive to stop him.