NEXT morning the sounds of traffic drifted in through the bedroom window. Zanzibar stirred as the thrum of engines and an occasional car horn pulled him from his slumber. 

Lazily he turned his eyes to the window which, as always, he left open just a smidge in the evenings. The nets rippled from the icy draught seeping in through the gap. Even wrapped in blankets, he felt the December chill reach across the room. 

With a heavy sigh, he sat up, reached for his smoking jacket and moved over to close the window. The view was surprisingly uplifting. He smiled as he looked out across New York Bay. 

The winter chill carried with it a light fog which skirted around Bedloe's Island, home to the impressive statue of Libertas, Roman goddess and personification of liberty. From what he could make out, she was whole, once more holding her torch high, an icon of freedom.

Davy and Nimbus, aka Cloudy, had achieved a sterling restoration to the city. By all accounts, there was little evidence remaining of the Sorceress' attack. The Nimbus had said bricks and mortar was a breeze compared to the physical healing of many individuals. That was something Zanzibar knew all too well now - that, and the emotional side of it. He tried to shrug off the creeping air of despondency.

Looking down to the streets, he watched the sea of pedestrians and vehicles making their way through the city. It was no different from any other Tuesday morning; mothers were herding their children to school, businessmen heading to banks and brokerage businesses, tradespeople and manufacturers all moving to their designated workplaces. Malls and shops would be opening their doors to the masses, and all would continue as usual. 

America had declared war on Japan, and still, New Yorkers carried on with the daily toil. He supposed it was the right way to go about things certainly - the world could not grind to a halt after all. 

He huffed and made his way through to the bathroom. The image which looked back at him from the cabinet mirror stopped him in his tracks. Another casualty of 1941 stared back at him. He snorted although it was more of a feminine sounding huff than a grunt. So much for a few hours and all would be back to normal, he thought, irritated. 

Pulling back the shower curtain, he reached to the mixer tap. A loud knock at his front door made him pull back—then another knock sounded, quite insistent. Whoever was there was not for going away. He moved through to the small hallway.

At the front door, he halted, hesitant, unsure. He leaned towards the peephole, his eyelashes brushing the metal surround. A young man stood outside. He was looking from side to side as if wary, nervously watching for anyone who might suddenly appear from one of the other doorways.

Zanzibar rested his forehead against the door, eyes closed, ambivalence washing over him. Jim Andrews, aka Dynamo, was his visitor. Oh, this was not a conversation he was ready for by any stretch of the imagination. Should he just ignore him?

Jim was persistent. "C'mon Zan," he said in a desperate hush. "I know you're in there."

The propensity to hide from the world and his fellow heroes was overwhelming, but he equally knew it was an unrealistic wish. It was just regrettable it had to be faced so soon. Slowly, he turned the lock. Standing back, he opened the door granting entry for his friend.

Jim swept in, grateful not to be standing out in the cold hall any longer. His mouth fell open when he faced the hostess. "Whoa!" he gasped, taking in the pyjama-clad figure hiding behind the door. His eyes dropped to the bustline, mesmerised, appreciative.

Zanzibar slammed the door and turned the lock, then pulled his smoking-jacket tighter around his frame.

Jim averted his eyes for a moment then looked back at Zanzibar, focusing on his face this time. "How're things?" he asked awkwardly.

The magician scowled. "It's life Jim, but not as I know it!" He then led the way into the sitting room.

Jim stumbled in behind. "Wow, even your voice is different," he said.

In an attempt to hide his irritation, Zanzibar cleared his throat but otherwise said nothing. 

Jim spoke again. "I - I wanted to thank you for - well, for doing what you did, and saving me from - from ..."

 "A fate worse than death?" Zanzibar concluded, blunt, disgruntled. 

Jim looked around the room, trying to conceal his embarrassment.

Picking up his Chesterfields, Zanzibar tapped one out of the packet and offered one to Jim. 

His visitor shook his head. "I don't smoke," he said, almost apologetically.

The magician lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply then gestured for Jim to take a seat. Zanzibar sat opposite in the twin armchair, and inched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He felt suddenly nervous. "I'm sorry," he muttered, beaten.

Jim looked surprised. "For what?"

"Being so rude just now," Zanzibar said, then took another long drag of nicotine.

"Hey, for the record, you weren't rude, you were just honest. I can't begin to imagine how - uncomfortable it must be  - the change, I mean."

The magician buried his head in his hands, the plumes of smoke snaking up from the cigarette still wedged between his fore and middle finger. The severity of his predicament hit home. He groaned. "I had hoped it was temporary," he murmured. "But deep down I know it isn't." 

He looked up at the young Dynamo, his eyes showing defeat. "What the hell am I going to do, Jim?"

"I don't have the answers, Zan, but I will help you as best I can. Regardless though, my friend, the Syndicate, needs Zanzibar the magician - in whatever gender you present yourself. You are still a force to be reckoned with."

"On that front, I hope so. I need to assess my abilities, Jim. Some I have already found are intact, but others I don't know yet. I guess I will need something to test them."

"Well, how's about you whisk up some coffee, and we'll get our thinking caps on, eh?"

*****

And a little bit of trivia for you: 

George Winningham invented the peephole in 1932.

Liberty Island was originally known as Bedloe's Island, and it was renamed by an act of the United States Congress in 1956.