Solomon went to the Grandmaster's meditation chamber, but it wasn't long before he was asked to leave. The Grandmaster explained that Solomon should understand that Mordo had a stubborn personality and lacked flexibility, so there was no need to take his words to heart. Moreover, Mordo was only acting out of concern for the stability of Kamar-Taj, and there was really nothing to blame. In fact, Solomon's actions had been anticipated by the Grandmaster; capturing Mephisto's human incarnations was a long-term endeavor, and since these incarnations were indistinguishable from ordinary people, discovering them required a certain stroke of luck.
Clearly, Solomon was someone with that luck; his connections to lower planes always led him to find demons.
So, the Grandmaster had no intention of blaming Solomon for using magical artifacts on his own. On the contrary, the Grandmaster wanted to praise his disciple's creativity in magic. The Grandmaster was referring to the note Solomon had used to travel from the New York sanctuary back to Kamar-Taj headquarters through a portal—a spell crafted by combining a conjuration sub-school spell with a transmutation spell, full of ingenuity.
Solomon looked at the wriggling note in his hand, shrugged, and tossed it into the fireplace without a hint of regret. It was just a small experiment of his. Next time, he wanted to try attaching the "Whispering Mouth" spell to an envelope to create a letter that could read itself aloud—a real-life version of a "Howler." The only issue was that he didn't have any letters he needed to send right now. With Mordo handling the Ghost Rider matter, he had nothing left to do, and only one day of vacation remained. All he wanted now was to curl up on the couch in Bayonetta's apartment, lazily lounging.
There's nothing more enjoyable than having absolutely nothing to do.
Following the principle of "pretend to be busy before slacking off," Solomon strolled a few laps around the empty main hall of Kamar-Taj headquarters, ready to cast a spell to slip away at any moment. But to his surprise, a sudden phone call interrupted his spell preparation.
It was Athena calling, and Solomon had no choice but to answer.
"Lorna loved the jelly you brought," Athena's tone was lighthearted, and Solomon could hear Lorna complaining in the background. "She wants to apologize but is too shy to say it. When could you take her out? I think some ice cream might help her feel less nervous. After all, she's about to enter her teenage years."
Lorna's grumbling grew louder.
"Next time, Athena, next time." Solomon raised an eyebrow, realizing he hadn't considered how sensitive teenage girls could be. "I still need to shower, you know. You probably don't want to see a sticky, sweaty me, right?"
After hanging up, Solomon glanced around, ready to sneak off again when his phone rang once more.
This time it was Jeanne. As soon as Solomon answered, Jeanne began listing all the ingredients for dinner that night, what Bayonetta wanted to eat, and every seasoning they were out of, all at an astonishing speed. She didn't wait to see if Solomon even understood, leaving him scrambling to jot down her requests on a piece of paper. Jeanne kept asking him if he was sure it wasn't the invisible servant cooking tonight; only when he assured her did she finally relax.
"Bayonetta wants to try some dessert tonight, something with alcohol," Jeanne added. "I wouldn't mind some either."
"Then let's make some wine jelly," Solomon replied, tucking the note into his pocket. "Or maybe you'd like an Asian twist? How about a plum wine chiffon cake? Honestly, Jeanne, aren't you just craving it yourself?"
"Shut up!"
After Jeanne hung up, flustered, Solomon decided to switch his phone to vibrate mode to avoid being disturbed by unexpected calls that might interfere with his slacking plans. His caution paid off when he felt his phone vibrating again.
Hmm, Tony Stark. He's annoying and not from S.H.I.E.L.D., so he ignored it.
When the mage finally stepped through a portal to New York, his phone finally fell silent. He still needed to go to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for dinner. Not just any store, though—for the plum wine chiffon cake, he'd need to make a quick stop in Japan. But for Solomon, with his Sling Ring, that was hardly an issue.
America, with its love of freedom, was a place where Solomon could stroll the streets in his black occultist robes without attracting attention; passersby simply grouped him with the punk crowd. And because America embraced freedom to such an extent that carrying a gun in public was a personal choice, Solomon had already left four or five thugs lying in an alley by the time he cut through a shortcut on his way to the store. They'd noticed the ring on his hand and the necklace around his neck and had hoped to make a quick profit. As a result, Solomon now had an extra handful of bills, an unregistered pistol, and a small bag of marijuana in his dimensional pocket.
This was probably their plan for tonight's fun. Solomon examined the items briefly and stored them away; such materials were essential in creating certain potions, and since he was underage, no one would sell them to him.
"You shouldn't mess with those things." Solomon turned around to see a man in a suit standing behind him. He hadn't sensed him at all. The mage sized up the man wearing dark glasses and holding a long cane—a blind man?
"Yes, I'm blind." The man seemed to read Solomon's thoughts. "Now, kid, put down the gun and the drugs. Those aren't for you. You don't even belong in this neighborhood. Why are you here?"
"I'm just here to pick up some spices." Solomon tossed the gun and marijuana out of the dimensional pocket without a second thought; it was just an unexpected bonus anyway. "I don't feel like going all the way to Japan for a bottle of plum wine, so I thought I'd check here first. Any problem with that?"
The blind man was silent for a moment. "You're not lying," he nodded. "But beating up a few thugs isn't exactly an accomplishment. You'd be better off heading home now, pretending none of this happened, and getting out of here before those guys bring back reinforcements. You look well-off, but this isn't some rich guy's playground, Brit."
"Are you blind?"
"Yes, but I have other skills."
Solomon took another look at the blind man. This guy indeed had some abilities; Solomon hadn't even noticed when he got behind him. Of course, it could be because Solomon wasn't wearing his Sanctum robes or using his aura today.
"Who are you?" he asked. There were many capable blind men in the world, but only one fit the bill in New York. Solomon had already guessed.
"Matt Murdock," the man replied. "An intern at the Langley law firm. I live nearby."
"Well, good luck with starting your own firm someday," Solomon said, turning to leave.
"You're not going to leave?" Murdock asked.
"I haven't bought anything yet." Solomon wasn't interested in getting too involved with these street heroes. It wasn't arrogance; their realms were simply too different to make real friends. Of course, he couldn't rule out the possibility of eventually eating his own words, as he had no idea what this "Black Sky" business was all about. If it turned out to involve extra-dimensional beings, Kamar-Taj would have to step in.
"You should…" Murdock began, but his voice trailed off, bewildered. He strained his ears, stunned, for he had just encountered something entirely beyond belief. The person who had been standing in front of him had suddenly vanished, as if he were nothing more than air—heartbeat, footsteps, even the faint scent of sweat had all disappeared.
"Strange," he muttered after a moment, shrugging in resignation. "This city is full of weirdos."
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