Context: The following day after Bam gets blessed by CB Man, he wakes up to frantic knocks at his door. The person at the door is Cdot and he quickly grabs Bam and drags him towards his cafe, Bam being utterly confused. Once the two arrive and sit down at one of the booths, Cdot reveals that he had been awake all night hypothesizing what exactly Bam could do now that he had ascended (evident with the VERY pronounced eyebags), and he figured out that since the prefix demi (since yk Bam is a DEMIgod) means half then that meant that Bam received half of CB Man’s powers. To test Cdot’s theory, the two then travel to a place in the server where absolutely no one is or has been in order to conceal Bam. The two arrive at the spot, Bam transforms, and then they figure out that in order to get a rough estimate of what abilities Bam could have, he needed to describe what CB Man was doing inside of Bam’s head while the blessing was happening. Bam recounted his experience with CB Man when getting blessed, Cdot writing it down. After that, Bam realized that to unlock his powers, he has to close his eyes (sort of like he does to transform) and concentrate on said power. Cdot adds that him telling Bam sensory details in his ear would be the best solution and so they test out the plan. It works and they do this same trick for flight, telekinesis, teleportation, and finally height manipulation. Yadda yadda yadda, once Cdot gives Bam the sensory details, Bam grows massive and that’s where this drawing comes in. (Those are the cliff notes but I have the whole scene written down in the Miro board I’m using to plan the AU :3)

So, my main character is a woman who has just recently married into a rich family after a botched con job. However, she discovers some dark secrets about the family. The family finds out she knows, and they threaten to expose her criminal past and get her arrested if she spills the beans about their secrets.

So, the family has hired a bodyguard to watch her. Both because she's a famous man's wife now, but also so they can keep an eye on her when they're not around. She's a liability now, after all.

Now, my main character has a plan to escape this family. However, in order to do it, she needs the bodyguard out of the way for a while. I am stuck on how to get rid of the bodyguard.

A few important notes: 1. She can't kill the bodyguard. She just needs to incapacitate him for several hours to a day. 2. The bodyguard has to be "taken out" in a way that casts little suspicion on the main character. 3. Ideally, his "taking out" would either look like an accident that neither of them could have anticipated, or possibly something that could later be blamed on another character (this could depend on timing stuff I haven't worked out yet). 4. She has one friend/ally on the outside that the family doesn't know about who could do something, but I'm not sure what. He's a fellow criminal, but not strong enough to fight/injure the bodyguard.

~

Any suggestions or ideas at all would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!

"Now?"

"No. They've only just arrived. Be patient!" The Trickster of Tzeentch hissed to the servants he was assigned, watching from the lip of the Black Pit. His master's grand plan, of which he was afforded a key place as Unleasher of the project constructed on the Changer's orders, was commencing.

The Changeling could see it from here-- the great red river of ruin Skarbrand and his pet god were carving through the land. Rare were the times Tzeentch directly commanded his Trickster, but this would be one such occasion and all could see the merits of it.

" That's going to take eons to rebuild. So many hopes, dreams, lies-- captured and made solid." The Horror groused, twirling his Trickster's staff in his hands. Behind him, pink and blue horrors capered.

" Now?" One ask, impatient, literally vibrating with it.

"No, not now!" The taller Daemon hissed at it, for what must've been the hundredth time. A loud clatter caught their attention-- the Impossible Fortress had fallen. The Maze Thralls were out in full frenzied force. Tzeentch slithered from the wounds wrought in the walls of his home to face his attackers.

"....Now?" The Horror asked again, hopeful.

"Wait. Wait..." The Changeling watched the Fused God and his own size one another up. Then they pounced, and he turned to his fellow Horrors. "Now!"

The incantation began. And something rose from the center of the Black Pit...

---

Tzeentch rarely left the Hidden Library, secreted at the heart of the Impossible Fortress, itself situated in the nigh-impassable Maze of Crystals. All the gods had dozens and dozens of battle legends to their names; times when they were forced to intervene personally and duel a force greater than any of their daemons. But as he watched the two gods size each other up, Skarbrand could recall no such tales about Tzeentch.

He was not a god of warriors. The Changer was patron to revolutionaries, politicians, magic users, and mutants. Battle was not in his portfolio.

And yet none could deny how he held his own against Malal-Khade, a combination of magic, strength, duplicity, and agility making for a formidable enemy. Just watching the clash had become dangerous, as Tzeentch rained down magic in wanton quantities: storms of shredding wind and hails of blazing wyrdflame. Malal-Khade shook these attacks off well enough, but Skarbrand and his daemons were just that: daemons. Daemons and the regretful mortals who had followed them into the mouth of hell itself to bear witness to two of it's Fell rulers dueling to the death.

" We should leave." Kha'xanzyr hissed to Skarbrand among the carnage. The Reaper snarled and shot him a look. " You would pass up watching the Changer die, Architect?"

" When he dies, this realm will unravel. And we shall perish alongside him. Tzeentch is no match for my Patron."

As Kha'xanzyr said this, Malal-Khade struck with his pilfered blade. He pushed the weapon into the serpentine guts of the great avian-marine god, wrenching a horrid sound from the faces on his chest. Tzeentch responded by lurching forward with his tentacles, squeezing and choking Malal-Khade about the throne, but the War God roared and lit up his skin with black lightning. It singed across the Change-Lords body, the God's flesh running like tallow as he shrieked and pulled away. With each hit he took, the Realm of Tzeentch trembled, the pain of the Changer trembling through it.

Skarbrand saw reason then and there, though he allowed himself a final look at the Supreme Lord of Change, crossed and pierced with wounds, dripping his arcane ichor. "We leave." He agreed, looking at Kha'xanzyr and Khazaan, who nodded and shouted the order. Skarbrand's army pulled back, abandoning the Maze Crazed to their own insane devices, reticent of the world itself cracking beneath their hooves.

If Malal-Khade noticed Skarbrand's retreat, he said nothing. His own forces fought on, until they were ground to blood and bones beneath the relentless onslaught of Tzeentch's ravening hordes. Tzeentch himself was no easy score, but Malal-Khade was the Firstling and the Misbegotten-- the Firstborn and the Feared. He had stumbled and Tzeentch had disappeared into flame at the moment, reappearing behind the challenger. But Malal-Khade had predicted this, spinning on his hooves and wrenching his warped blade upwards with quicksilver perfection and brutal strength. The blade sliced through Tzeentch's chest-face, then bisected his beak-mouth, severing no few tentacles in it's wake.

The Great Lord of Change, each eye blown wide, lurched and choked, spewing arcane rich blood from both mouths. Malal-Khade watched him die with cool, cruel satisfaction.

"Iͥ s͛hͪoͦuͧldͩ hͪaͣvͮeͤ s͛leͤw yoͦuͧ whͪeͤn Iͥ hͪaͣdͩ ᴛⷮhͪeͤ oͦррoͦrͬᴛⷮuͧniͥᴛⷮy." The Windlord cursed.

"𝐀𝐄. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒, 𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑, 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄." The younger god growled, watching Tzeentch collapse and quite literally shatter to pieces among the remains of his labyrinth and fortress. Malal-Khade basked in his victory, in the destruction he had wrought. His army was gone, killed to a daemon and a man, but it had been a worth trade to destroy one of the four. He looked at the blade in his hands-- warped and twisted beyond use. Extending an arm, Malal-Khade went to discard to weapon, but found his fists tight and unwilling to drop it.

"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆?" Malal bullied his way to the fore of the joining, hissing at his other-self.

"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄? 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃. 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄."

"𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃! 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐃-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄. 𝐖𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐈𝐓, 𝐖𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓!" Malal argued back. "𝐖𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎."

"𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐔𝐒." Khade responded. They must've looked quite mad then, arguing with themselves. They must've fit in quite well with the rest of the daemons there, who saw them. " 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓. 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓."

"𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒! 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐒." Malal snarled and the joined form agitated.

"𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑."

"𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍? 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐒. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆!" Another ripple. The Gods bickered and bickered. They argued and fought about who was next on their list to be slain. They argued so fervently that they did not see that Changer was not so dead.

That killing him was never going to be so simple.

---

Millenniums had passed since Tzeentch had been reduced to Fractals. He remembered it still-- Khorne, Nurgle, and Slaanesh heaving him off of the Endless Mountains after an expertly laid trap. It wasn't one of his finest moments...but unlike then, this shattering was quite purposeful. Another step, as always, in the Great Scheme.

For the Changer was not as dead as the two bickering gods might've hoped. Oh, Khorne's blade with it's vehemence against his very being would take time to repair from, but he would. He would come back, more or less the same, but the same could not be said of these fools. All around him, the Changer could feel the minute consequences of his Labyrinth being shattered. The Realms were drifting, the winds were rising to a tempest in the mortal world, and countless realities had risen with each swing of Malal-Khade sword against the Crystal Maze. Possibility, potentialities, alternative worlds-- all unleashed and so haphazardly.

But he would investigate those later, when he had proper eyes and body to do such with. Right now, he could only see from his realm; a million eyes ensconced in the very earth and sky, spying and prying. And what he saw pleased him greatly.

His project, completed, striding over the realms to deal with this interloper. Tzeentch hadn't had an allusions about how he would fair against the kin of Khorne, let alone two. But his sentinel, his weapon.

His Collar of Khade was a different story entirely. It had been fitted with the Rage Pox, the roiling red liquid sloshing around in vials on it's frame like obscene growths. It had been stolen from Nurgle's lands at great pains, the machine further scored with runes of domination. But there was something Tzeentch hadn't known-- that those runes had been tampered with, sabotaged by a servant of Khade and one of his own feathered brood...

---

Malal-Khade hadn't seen the giant skeletal beast of metal that had approached the aftermath of the battle. Due their own lack of oversight or perhaps the lingering will of the slain Tzeentch, they hadn't heard it or sensed it, not until it was upon them. With metal fists forged by daemon-smiths, it pummeled the injured god with one hand and wrenched the wrap blade from his grip with the other. Off it went flying, too far to reach. Malal-Khade made to defend, but the Collar of Khade lunged and undid itself. Like a straight-jacket of divine metal, it caged the Fused God within itself and the runes of domination blazed to life.

Malal-Khade screamed, feeling the acid of control bending and corroding his will. But he was two gods, not one, and Malal was a horrid thing that should not have been. In that battle of wills, the runes had failed; burned themselves out and left an exhausted hybrid in it's wake.

But if anyone had contingencies, it was Tzeentch, and into the body of the joint god, the Rage Pox drained. It had killed Slaanesh's spawn, which Malal was, but Khade was the God of Unmaking and the pox was a thing of magic. And so when Malal-Khade fell, he was not stricken with death.

"нuͧs͛hͪ liͥᴛⷮᴛⷮleͤ вaͣвy dͩoͦn'́ᴛⷮ s͛aͣy aͣ woͦrͬdͩ,̓ ᴛⷮcͨhͪaͣrͬ'́s͛ goͦiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ mͫaͣᴋⷦeͤ yoͦuͧ aͣ mͫoͦcͨᴋⷦiͥng вiͥrͬdͩ~." Tzeentch crooned the song as Malal-Khade tried, and failed, to keep his eyes open.