The Bagman

Chapter 7
They Meet

Chapter Description: In which Johnny and the Bagman meet each other

Chapter 7: They Meet.

“Wow,” Johnny heard from his slumber , “just wow.” The voice was gravely and growled a little bit. A rank smell wafted into Johnny’s nose just before he opened his eyes. “This is definitely a new one for me,” the voice mused as Johnny’s vision shifted into focus. “I mean, I’m not one for souvenirs or evidence, but I wish I had a camera right now.”

Johnny’s eyes came into focus. A fat smelly guy dressed in black was standing over his crib. Someone was standing over his crib! Johnny grabbed his teddy bear with one hand and grabbed the railing with the other. He leaped over the railing while swinging his legs straight for the intruder’s head. The fat man in the black trench coat narrowly dodged, backing up a step.

Johnny ripped his gun out of the teddy bear and aimed it at the fat man. The fat man immediately lifted his hands in the air. “Whoa! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The man yelled as he took a step behind a tick line of red and white powder. The man lowered his black gloved hands and let out a sigh. “Okay,” he smiled, “NOW you can shoot.”

The ugly son of a bitch didn’t even have to say please. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Johnny’s jaw practically dropped to the floor as the intruder’s laughter filled the room. The bullets had imbedded themselves in the air itself, right at the line of dust. Johnny quickly looked around and found that a three foot area around his crib had been encircled with red and white dust.

On instinct more than reason, Johnny charged-the man had stepped over the line easily enough. THUD! Johnny felt like he had just run into a glass wall. He backed up a step, dizzy. The fat man in the trench coat smiled, menacingly. “Yeah…now you get it.” the man hissed.

“The fuck is going on?!” Johnny yelled. He hadn’t prepared for this. This was twilight zone material, not reality!

The fat smelly man gestured towards the circle of dust surrounding Johnny and his crib. “Brick dust mixed with salt,” the man’s voice grated on Johnny’s ears. “Guaranteed to contain anything that could harm me, physically, or spiritually.” Johnny just continued to shake his head in disbelief.

“Man, I love magic.” the man grinned, showing his yellow teeth. He reached into his back and took out some strange candles. He set them on the floor and lit them. From the candles a thin purple smoke, like incense wafted into the air. “I let myself in using a cuckoo bird’s feather under your door.” the man rattled out. “Hope ya don’t mind.”

Johnny then proceeded to let loose a string of curses that would have made a Taiwanese Sailor in a whore house blush. He may have even invented some new euphemisms including but not limited to “twat waffle”, “eunuch sucker”, and “human-centipede-lovin-wishes-he-could-be-the-middle-piece-baboon-molestor”.

When Johnny was done, and nearly out of breath, the toad of a man held his hands at about eye level, pressed his pointer fingers to his thumbs and then flicked the air. Before Johnny knew what was happening he was on the floor, writing in pain as he bled from both arms and legs. The bullets he had shot- the one‘s that were just hanging in midair- had reversed direction and come straight for Johnny before he could react.”.

“That’s all very nice, Johnny Spettro, but now it’s the Bagman’s turn to talk,” Johnny heard the intruder say. The Bagman! That was a name even Johnny recognized. The Bagman was the Mafia’s greatest in house hit man. What had Johnny gotten himself into?!

The Bagman saw the look of recognition on Johnny‘s face. “Yeah…you know.” the Bagman said menacingly. This was his house now. “I gotta say Johnny, I’m impressed,” the Bagman nodded in mock approval. “You managed to off two of the biggest goombas in New York; AND if you hadn’t decided to go all superhero and hint your name to the waiter you paid off at Mama Maria’s, you’d probably

“Please!” Johnny begged, “You can’t do this. I’m not even in the Mafia. Everybody knows the Bagman only kills mobsters!”

“People don’t know shit about me,” the Bagman spat, “and I like to keep it that way. Besides, you’re the son of a Mafia Don. That’s close enough.”

Johnny was desperate. It couldn’t end this way, it just couldn’t. “Please,” Johnny pleaded, “I don’t care if I die, but at least let me finish what I started. Please!”

The Bagman laughed. “And who would pay me, if I did, huh? My reputation’s already gonna take enough of a hit as it is, letting you kill one of my clients after I was on the job.”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Johnny roared, his face turning red from anger. “THEY TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! MY MOM, MY DAD, EVERYTHING!” The Bagman took a chair out from Johnny’s computer desk and sat facing Johnny, still on the floor and bleeding.

“Kid,” the Bagman began, “shut up, and LISTEN. My turn to talk, remember?” Johnny just laid there. It’s not like he had much of a choice.

“Yeah, you got dicked over by the Families, but that’s how it goes. The strong prey upon the weak; it’s the way the world works. It sucks, but that’s how it goes. They killed your parents when you were just a baby. I sympathize, I do.”

“FUCK YOU,” Johnny spat. The Bagman shot Johnny a warning look.

“Easy there kid, I’m giving you a lot of rope right now. Don’t hang yourself. The thing of it is, I do understand. Once upon a time, I was a gambler. Not a good one, but I was one. So eventually, I get in real deep with the sharks on the west coast out in Vegas. Too deep. Before I could do anything about it, my wife was dead, and my house was burned down and CONVENIENTLY, my insurance file got lost. So yeah…I know a little bit about what you’ve gone through.”

“I‘m not…magic.” Johnny said glumly.

“Neither was I, kid.” the Bagman shook his head. “Neither was I. I was about to kill myself one day, when I got a lucky break.” Johnny looked up at the Bagman, hoping this was a hint that the Bagman would show mercy. “Then this guy comes up to me, wearing a green pinstripe suit and snake skin shoes; I don’t know if he’s some ritzy hotel manager or a pimp or both. He tells me he’s the devil…well A DEVIL anyways….and that he’s got an offer for me. Tells me his name is Levi, Levi Athan, and that for the price of my soul he’ll give me the power to control other people’s lives.

“Now personally,” the Bagman continued, “I can’t believe it, I don’t believe it. Everybody knows that the Devil is just one guy, and that if he was gonna dress in anything, it’d be red. And he definitely wouldn’t make a schmuck like me a deal. I was prolly goin’ to hell anyways, so what’s he need with my soul? Thing is, I literally had nothing to lose, so I figured, ‘Why not?’ and shook the mooks hand.” The Bagman paused for a beat. “And then it happened.”

“My head starts filling up with all this stuff I had never known before: Black Magic, Voodoo, Oni Magic, Curses, Spells, Illusions, Wicca, Necromancy, and even some spells that are only known in the Pit. When I agreed for the power to control people‘s lives, I figured I was gonna magically win the lottery and have enough money so that I could buy and sell everybody in Las Vegas three times over.

“But that ain’t what I agreed to. I agreed to the power to control other people’s lives. I can literally manipulate the life force inside of people and make them younger or older in mind and body, plus a couple other neat tricks. Eh…not what I wanted exactly, but I’ve made due.”

“So you work for the same type of people that ruined your life?” Johnny asked, confused about the moral of this story, if there was supposed to be one.

“By being an in house hit man?” the Bagman asked, “can you think of a better way to take the guilty down by having more guilty people pay you to do it?”

“Doesn’t get anything accomplished. You just end up killing little fish.” Johnny was beginning to feel woozy from the blood loss.

“Yeah, I realized that too. Then I came up with a better plan. The first couple of hits I did, I just aged them to death and kept going till the bodies were dust. My contractors were happy because there was no mess and no body. Then, I figured that some of these guys were just mooks who didn’t know any better and got marked.

“So I went the opposite way. I de-aged them till they were babies; so that maybe they’d get another chance.” The Bagman opened the main pocket of his satchel and opened it Johnny saw that it was filled with bottles, diapers, and baby wipes. “What everybody knows is that I’m the Bagman cuz I always carry around my bag of tricks. What nobody knows is that for the most part, it’s a diaper bag for after I regress the targets! What a gas, huh?”

“So you turn them into babies and raise them yourself?” Johnny managed to ask.

“Raise them myself?” the Bagman asked before suppressing a laugh. “That’s a good one! No. I sell them to independent adoption agencies, there are plenty of rich people who can’t have kids who would just love to have their own little 8 month old tyke, no strings attached. I make even more money on the side, and when I’m done, the kid doesn’t remember anything either. Mob‘s satisfied, rich parents are satisfied, new baby is happy, everybody wins!”

The Bagman stood up. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, Johnny. I’m going to turn you back into a baby, then give you over to some adoption agency; then I tell Leone, Canecattivo, and Mezzanotte You get a nice new life, and a couple more years in diapers- which I see you‘ve got a thing for.” he motioned over to Johnny’s wet diaper. Wet diaper? When and how the hell had that happened? Was it the blood loss?

“Relax kid, everybody wets when they inhale the incense the first time,” the Bagman gestured to the burning candles which had been giving off a purple smoke this entire time. “Just normally, they’re not wearing diapers…yet.” The Bagman reached into his pocket and took out a small vial of clear liquid.

“The tears of an innocent shed in Hell,” the Bagman rasped. “Used only for the most potent of spells.” The Bagman took the vial and dropped a little onto each candle. The flame on each candle was doused instantly and from the wicks, a thick black fog emerged and started to slither like a snake towards Johnny. “Breathe deep kid.”

Johnny, of course, tried to do the opposite and hold his breath. He was in such pain though, that even that much was too tall of an order. The smoke raced straight for his nostrils and barreled into his lungs. Johnny couldn’t even cough as the putrid stuff entwined with his very being. Suddenly the pain in Johnny’s arms and legs numbed, and then went away all together. Johnny could breathe. Johnny could stand. Johnny could think straight.

Johnny stood up, trapped in the circle of brick dust and salt, somehow creating some kind of magic force field. His diaper sagged a little around him and was a little looser than before. He looked and noticed his muscles weren’t as developed. He still had some hair on his chest, but it wasn’t quite as thick. A peek inside the waistband of his diaper confirmed that he still had pubic hair.

“I’d say you’re at least 16 right now, maybe 17, if that’s what you’re wondering.” the Bagman informed Johnny.

“Fun fact”, the Bagman went on, “This is actually a variation on an old Aztec healing spell, responsible for the Fountain of Youth legend. They’d heal their greatest wounds by making the body younger.”

The Bagman swelled a little as he spoke. “But with my version, the safety is off. You’re gonna keep getting younger till you’re about oh I dunno, 8 months old, give or take a month. Injury just speeds the process up. So if you wanna do me a favor and shoot yourself in the foot a couple of times and do us both a favor,” the Bagman pointed to Johnny’s gun, “I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“You mean…?” Johnny asked, hoping against hope that the Bagman would

“That which does not kill you, makes you younger!” The Bagman proclaimed, laughing (at least it might have been a laugh) at his own joke.

Then inspiration- wild, manic, insane lunatic fringe inspiration- hit Johnny. Johnny hopped back into his crib. “Getting acclimated?” the Bagman asked. Then Johnny started jumping up and down in the crib. It was pretty sturdy, but it wasn’t a professional job. Soon Johnny could hear the crib creaking, and moaning under his weight. Johnny started doing belly flops onto the mattress.

“The hell?” the Bagman exclaimed, more curious than anything. Finally, with a satisfying crunch, the legs of the crib crackled under Johnny’s weight and Johnny felt the mattress hit the floor as his makeshift crib collapsed to pieces around him. Johnny picked his gun up and pointed it at the Bagman. Smiling idiotically.

“Oh no. Please do not shoot me. Whatever shall I do,” the Bagman droned on in mock panic. “This spell doesn’t usually make you stupid; but I usually don’t use it on people with a baby fetish either.” He shrugged, waiting for Johnny to fire.

“Hey Bagman!” Johnny challenged, “I’m not stupid. Just crazy. I was planning a special treat for Canecattivo’s car, but I couldn’t figure out where to hide it. You know where I hid it?” Johnny waited for a guess and got none. “Inside my mattress. Wanna guess what it was?” He pointed the gun at the mattress. “C-4!”

BLAM! BLAM! BOOOOOOOOOM!

The Bagman shielded his eyes from the brightness. Sonofabitch! Who the hell stuffed their mattress with explosives? When the smoke cleared, there was a sizeable hole right in the middle of the floor where Johnny had once been.

A child’s frantic screams could be heard. Johnny stood up among the rubble he had just created, his skin sizzling as it repaired itself and his bones knit themselves back together. He stepped out of his charred adult diaper which was now to big for him. He searched the rubble and quickly found his gun.

He looked around the room and saw that he was in a bedroom, a girls room based on the light pink painting and pre-teen heartthrob posters that decorated it.. A black girl of about 13 cowered in the corner. “No time to explain!” Johnny yelled, his voice now much higher than he had heard in years. “I need your clothes.” The young girl looked confused till she saw the naked boy had a gun in his hand. She reached down, eyes filled with tears, and started to pull up her shirt.

“NOT THE CLOTHES YOU’RE WEARING!” Johnny shouted, “THE ONES IN YOUR CLOSET! YOUR CLOSET!” Johnny tore open a closet door and yanked some things off of hangers, not bothering to look. Something caught Johnny‘s resting on the dresser. A cell phone. “This’ll do too, thank you.” Johnny’s now almost hairless arms snatched the cell phone.

“Sorry Baggy, but I got a vendetta to finish!” Johnny Spettro, now about 12, called up through the hole he had made. With that Johnny tore off and out onto the streets; haphazardly dressing himself as he went. The girl would undoubtedly have some explaining to her parents to do about why a naked white boy ran through their apartment.

The Bagman picked himself off of the floor. The kid couldn’t go through the containment circle, but he could go under it. Stupid…stupid, stupid, rookie mistakes! But how was he supposed to know that the kid hid explosives in his bed?! Who does that?! And besides, so many of his curses and rituals required the subject to know what would happen to take effect. He had just gotten used to monogloging once he had somebody in his grasp. It was sort of to balance the mysterious routine he developed with his clients.

Who the hell was this kid and who the hell did he think he was messing with? Despite himself, the Bagman smiled. He hadn’t had this much of a challenge in years!

Next Chapter: The Chase.