Baiting a hook needs something shiny and a big worm

[greatest_zatara]

If you asked Zachary Zatara to ever choose between style and substance, he'd tell you you were a fool for thinking there was a difference. Nothing without style has any substance, he'd be happy to inform them. That attitude was reflected in his magic as well. Never cook up a spell with three components if you can squeeze in seven, that sort of thing. Between his house and Constantine's, he'd managed to concoct a suitable recipe for deception. Old metal, older than most countries, had enough provenance to serve as the basis for a fake Helm (and really the museums that had displaced them had had generations to find the weapons they used for material, and if they hadn't found them by now, they obviously hadn't cared enough). The various distortions of time and connection to one of the creation energies made Mister Garrick's blood another useful component, although Zachary's (however sass-laden) deference to his elders made him more cautious than usual in drawing the portion he needed, and he'd bid the old man get a snack and some juice afterwards.

The rest of it really came down to cosmetics and tailoring, areas in which Zachary excelled through no other virtue than study and repetition. Abdullah made a near flawless double by the time Zachary was done with him. Constantine's regularly scheduled disregard for his own health, and other bad decisions, would account for any nicks and dents here and there. Mundane skill covered everything the naked eye could perceive, and with the actual Helm and Constantine nearby, he could (with more effort than he liked to admit, truth be told) redirect any scrying or similar magical detections onto the decoy.

"So..." Zach circled the stand-in, "--where are we setting this hook?"

Comments

[needsnewbusinesscards]

From just inside his hiding space behind Abdullah, John's hands begin to glow gold as they trace an elaborate looking sigil that floats before their target.

Zachary would feel some very familiar magic being tapped into as the Brit starts to speak. "Rehtet mih ot siht mlaer."

[planetaryguide]

The Fictional Man lands a punch on Ghost and begins to blink into the bleed, when suddenly he realizes he can't. For a second, his features seem visible ... as a look of terror falls across his face.

Ghost seizes the opportunity to land blow after blow, hitting and kicking his mysterious assailant until, finally, he is on the ground.

"No ..." whimpers The Fictional Man. "I can't fail. I can't ... It's the only way ..."