He was 24, of mixed descent, and his name was Leonas Ironheart. “My Little Lion,” had been what his mother called him, before she took ill and died of something he was too young to understand. During that time it had been “Leo the Brave”, a reminder that he was to be strong. Now it was simply Leo, like the zodiac, and until a day ago he thought he was an ordinary man. He’d run through a burning building, absorbing the flames, to save a child. He came home cover in soot, his favorite clothes in ruins, and now he sat at his small square table, on the morning of the next day, staring at a card which certainly had not been there before. It was a wildcard of some sort. The issue of building security aside, this card filled him with questions and curiosity, many of them the same question he had failed to find answers to the night before… but also who and why.

He finished his morning rituals, and after he put on his pants he placed the card in his back pocket. He didn’t realize it until he put his shoes on but his foot, which had certainly been injured during his heroics, no longer so much as ached. He had wondered if it had been broken as he dragged himself from the building with the woman’s body in tow, but soon forgot his concern once he’d made it outside. He had been well enough to walk home despite the aching and occasional twinges of sharp pain, but now it was perfectly fine. In fact, despite the events of the other day, he couldn’t help but noticed he did not presently seem injured in the slightest way. A side-effect of his new ability, he thought. Perhaps, it was another question which he was becoming sure would go unanswered, but it was time to go. He’d decided he’d explain things face to face, so that his boss would see his sincerity. He believed this was the best and most honest way to communicate with people. This wasn’t a commentary on common trends, its just that he had never been comfortable with phones and was even less so with the more impersonal forms of communication.

He opened his door wrapped in thoughts, blinding him to his surroundings. It was not until he’d entered what should have been his buildings hall way that he noticed the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. He was in a hall, but the lighting and dimensions were off. He looked back, with his hand on the door knob, he pushed his door back open just before it caught the latch. It was his apartment, he was sure of that, but this was not his building, it could not be. He stood their for a moment trying to justify the contradictions of it all, but he could not resolve it. He could of stepped back inside, but what would that have accomplished, this was something he could figure out, he thought. So he set down the path before him, to see where exactly this hall led.

At the end of the hall he reached a room with many exits, he counted eight including the one he’d entered from. Between them, the walls were covered in books and what he imagined were curios. The various objects, which occupied the irregularly placed cubby holes along the bookshelves, seemed to posses no central or common theme other than an eclectic sense of culture. the room was symmetrically octagonal, with double wide armchairs placed a comfortable distance in front of each book case. A nearly octagonal table, which appeared to be a horizontal slice from some ancient tree, occupied the center of the room. It all reminded him of a study from an old film or something, the abeyance and lighting, the antiquity of the furnishings, the books. As he approached the center of the room he noticed he was not alone, a woman sat in the chair to his left, with the same card laid out on the table in front of her. The bold black lettering displayed diagonally across the stark white surface was unmistakable… “WyldCard“.

“Are you going to stare, or have a seat?” she asked, as he stood there with his hand atop the back of her chair. He was taken in by her allure, but he was searching for the reason. After all he hadn’t really gotten a good look at her yet. Of course he had come here with other things in mind, though he found it hard to concentrate on what they were now that he was trapped in her presence.

“I’m considering,” was the only response he could manage.

“He speaks,” she said, “though I’m surprised. Most men can’t manage a thought, much less words, for at least five minutes. I like you, you might have potential.”

“Is that so?” he replied, the words coming much easier this time, as he moved to take the seat to his left.

“Now you’re just showing off,” she playfully chided him, “If you make it to five words I’ll be positively floored.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” he responded almost suddenly, feeling more like his self again.

“Are you being a smart ass, or trying to woo me? Because either way I’m impressed,” she said, sitting up a bit to show her rising interest. “So just be clear, now that you have my interest, which is it?”

He could see her clearly now, and she was beautiful, but young… maybe just out of high school. She looked a lot like trouble, in his experience that had been the case with girls her age, still desperate to find their way in the world. Still he couldn’t help the fact that he felt drawn to her. “What’s your name? he asked.

“And your defiant,” she remarked, “most men can’t help but answer my questions, you know. Fine, I’m Cleo… short for Cleopatra, but that’s lame. Never call me that.”