The Gator Gate Gathering Magic Convention, Cambria Hotel Orlando Airport

06/04/2026

The lobby had not changed. It never did.

The same warm amber light clung to the walls. The same chandelier hummed faintly overhead. The same clock, somewhere deep in the woodwork, marked time with a patience that felt older than the building itself.

But something in the air had shifted. Grumpus felt it before he saw it. Ace was already waiting. No greeting. No movement beyond the slightest tilt of the hat. Just the file.

It rested between them for only a moment—long enough to acknowledge its weight, not long enough to question it. Grumpus reached forward. Leather met leather. The transfer was clean. Deliberate. Final.

Ace’s hand didn’t fully retreat. Instead, one claw extended—subtle, precise—and tapped once against the desk on a note.

Grumpus’s eyes followed. A single slip of paper, small and unassuming. Placed just off-center, as if it hadn’t been important enough to file… but too important to remove. One word.

Cleaned.

His gaze shifted back to the folder. #094 - The Slippery Canuck.

Something was hidden in plain sight. Grumpus closed his eyes for half a second. Then opened them again, sharper. More focused.

Across the room, the stained glass above the AIA doors glowed just a touch brighter, casting fractured color across the GGG emblem beneath his feet. A map. Or a warning.

Ace had already stepped back.

The exchange was over. No questions would be answered here. Grumpus tucked the file under his arm. The clock ticked once. And for the first time since the last case…

…he smiled.

04/04/2026

If you weren't following the story I understand. ;)
Here's the official first announcement,

The Gatorgate Gathering 2027: Alex Geiser!

Alex Geiser is a highly respected sleight-of-hand artist, creator, and lecturer known for his elegant approach to magic and refined technical ability. With a background that spans professional performance, television appearances, and published instructional material, Alex brings a rare combination of real-world experience and thoughtful theory to his work.

He has contributed to the film Now You See Me as a hand double for Jesse Eisenberg, demonstrating the level of precision and control required for magic on camera. He has also appeared on Penn & Teller: Fool Us, further establishing his reputation among both magicians and broader audiences.

Alex is the creator of acclaimed releases such as MiRAGE and The Prodigy, which highlight his focus on clarity, visual impact, and deceptive structure. His work is often noted for balancing strong technical foundations with an artistic sensibility—resulting in magic that is not only effective, but beautiful.

As a lecturer, Alex offers more than material. He provides insight into construction, timing, and the underlying principles that elevate technique into performance. Attendees can expect practical methods, thoughtful theory, and a deeper understanding of how to create magic that resonates.

For magicians interested in refining their work and raising their standards, Alex Geiser represents a compelling and valuable voice.

02/04/2026

The room had gone still.

Not the ordinary stillness of late hours and tired eyes, but the sharper kind—the kind that settles over a space when a question has finally stopped being a question.

Grumpus' gaze remained on the circled initials as if they might change under pressure, as if the case itself might try one last time to scramble what had only just become clear.

It didn’t. The letters held.

A.G.

Across the desk, the other names had already begun to lose their weight.
David.
Chris.
Important, yes. Useful, certainly. But no longer central.

They were not the destination.

They were the camouflage.

Grumpus drew in a slow breath and pulled one sheet free from beneath the others. Then another. The fragments aligned more easily now, no longer fighting him, no longer pretending to point in ten directions at once. The structure beneath them had revealed itself, and once seen, it could not be unseen.

The film.
The timing.
The consulting trail.
The deliberate confusion.

All of it bending inward toward the same concealed point.

Agent Blue shifted slightly on her stand, saying nothing.

She did not need to.

Grumpus already knew.

With the tip of his pen, he touched the initials once more, then wrote the name beside them in a careful, measured hand.

Alex Geiser.

He sat back.

For a moment, he simply looked at it.

Not triumphantly. Not theatrically. Just with the cold satisfaction of finally seeing the shape of something the enemy had worked very hard to keep misshapen.

“So that’s it,” he said quietly.

Not to Blue.
Not to the room.
To the case itself.

“They buried you under bigger names.”

His eyes moved over the desk again—over David, over Chris, over Now You See Me, over every clue that had been made just visible enough to attract attention and just important enough to delay it.

A false center.

A manufactured trail.

And beneath it, where no one was supposed to look for very long at all—

Alex Geiser.

Grumpus closed the file halfway, leaving the name exposed in the pool of lamplight.

At last, the case was no longer asking who had been hidden.

It was answering.

01/04/2026

The names were still there in front of him—David… Chris…—scattered across the papers like debris from a storm that had already passed. For hours they had led nowhere. Distractions. Noise.

Looking at them again, now they felt different.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes narrowing as the pieces began to settle into place. Not all at once, but gradually—like a lens turning, bringing something long out of focus into sudden, unsettling clarity.

“2013…” he murmured under his breath. Just before Kenner lectured at the 2014 GGG?!

His gaze drifted back across the notes, “…Now You See Me.”

Agent Blue remained still beside the desk, though her wings tightened just enough to betray that she understood something had shifted.

Grumpus reached forward again, slower this time. More deliberate. He turned one of the pages slightly… then another… adjusting the angles, not searching anymore, but confirming.

The chaos was gone and in its place was structure.

“These weren’t random,” he said quietly. “They were arranged.”

His claw traced a path across the desk—David to Chris, Chris to the film, the film to something deeper. Something buried beneath the obvious connections.

A design.

And like all good designs… it concealed its most important element.

He stopped and there, half-obscured beneath overlapping notes and careless markings, was something he had passed over more than once. Something small enough to dismiss… unless you knew to look for it.

Unless you were meant not to.

He brushed the paper aside.

The initials sat there, plain and quiet.

Waiting.

Grumpus stared at them for a long moment before reaching for his pen. He circled them once, slow and precise, the ink pressing deeper into the page than necessary.

A.G.

“They didn’t care which David I followed,” he said at last, his voice lower now, steadier.

A realization, not a theory.

“They wanted me chasing names… connections… anything that looked important.”

His eyes lifted toward the board across the room, where threads and notes tangled in deliberate confusion.

“…anything but this.”

His gaze returned to the initials.

The one thing that had been left too small to notice, too quiet to question.

“You don’t hide the noise,” he said softly.
“You hide the one who built it.”

He closed the file partway, leaving the circled letters still visible.

A.G.

“…found you.”

28/03/2026

Pirate radio station KROK introduction

26/03/2026

Grumpus flips the file open again. Quicker this time. Careful to land on the last page he focused on.

Bahamas.
Ohio.
A cruise ship… captained by a mouse?

He stops.

Eyes narrowing.
“…No.”
“This isn’t a trail.”

He taps the page.
“…is this encoded info?”
Another claw tap harder this time.
“…no! this is scrambled.” Squinting his eyes tightly.
Agent B’s wings tighten because she knows that tone.

Grumpus leans in and with a low voice.
“This has been tampered with by the CMC!”
A short pause.
“They didn’t miss this file… they got to it first! @%^^@!%@ Mind reading Crocodiles!!!"

Grumpus scans the page again seeing it completely different.
“They wanted me chasing the wrong ‘David.’! It could have been David C. OR David W. They didn't even SLIGHTLY care to focus on the correct DAVE in this file! Ohio? THAT David doesn't perform on Tropicana Avenue and THAT other David doesn't live in Ohio. He's living on the Moon!"

He exhales a long time as if meditating.

Slowly,
“…so I wouldn’t see who they’re really after.”

He looks at Agent B.
Eyes squint sharp now.

“…let’s find who the CMC is trying to hide.”

25/03/2026

Grumpus settles into a corner velvet booth, the sound of jazz wrapping around him.
For the first time all night… he doesn’t feel rushed.
Then with a whirr—
A sharp line cuts through the lamplight. Fast. Precise.
Agent B lands softly on the brass perch with perfect balance.

Knowing how fast dragonflies are Grumpus smirks.
With a little bit of sarcasm in his voice,
“…Took you long enough.”
He looks at her and with a slow cool almost rumbly voice,
“Tell me you’ve got something better than ‘he moved to the moon.’”

Agent B’s wings hum fast.
Tighter now. Focused.

Grumpus now knows...
Good. She does.

24/03/2026

Grumpus SLAMS the phone down on the receiver.
He takes a long, deep breath… then lets it out slowly.
Eyes closed. “…That was supposed to be an easy target?”

A pause and another breath.

“I need a break before this turns into a full-blown gatortastrophe.” He checks his watch. Just after midnight. A slight nod to himself thinking, “The Velvet Swamp is still open… and I believe the Reptilian Rubberband is playing tonight.”

The door open with warm light spilling out— along with the scent of expensive liquor, cigar smoke, and something just slightly dangerous.

Inside—
the band is already mid-set.
A familiar slow, hypnotic groove. Low. Smooth and controlled.

Grumpus steps in.
And for the first time all night…
he doesn’t feel rushed.

He makes his way to his usual table.
No words.
Just a small gesture to the barkeep.
The usual.

He settles in—
letting the rhythm of Black Magic Woman wrap around the room.
For a moment… he just listens.

Then—
whirr—whoosh—

A flicker of motion cuts through the lamplight.

Fast. Precise.
Almost invisible.

A tiny figure lands softly on the brass perch in front of him.

Still. Balanced. Watching.

Grumpus doesn’t look surprised but a small smirk creeps in.

“…Took you long enough.”
He looks down.

“Agent B”

22/03/2026

Grumpus tightens his grip on the receiver.

“…I’m sorry—WHAT?!”

He listens.

His eyes narrow.

“What do you mean he’s NOT AVAILABLE next January?!”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Grumpus leans forward.

“He WHAT?!”

He slowly rises from his chair.

“You’re telling me… David moved to the MOON—”

His voice rises—

“With SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND GALLONS of Vantablack paint—”

A brief pause.

“…to make it DISAPPEAR?!”

Silence.

Grumpus stares ahead, processing.

“…That’s a little more than a scheduling conflict.”

21/03/2026

Grumpus doesn’t waste time.

The moment his office door closes behind him, the outside world disappears.

This room is secure. He knows Agent “B” guards it in secret — unseen… and unheard.

The warm glow of the desk lamp spills across the surface, catching the edge of the open case file. Cigar smoke lingers in the air, mixed with a faint note of whiskey — the kind of scent that suggests long nights and difficult decisions.

Grumpus studies the case file.

TARGET: “David.”

A name that carries serious weight in the magic community.

The phone is already in his hand.

The turn…
and click… of the dial.

A pause.

Another number.

Turn…
click…

Another pause.

The line begins to ring.

20/03/2026

Upon entering what must be at least a century-old mansion, the air shifts immediately — rich with traces of Cuban cigar, polished wood, worn leather, and the faint scent of old paper and ink. The kind of room where deals have been made quietly for years.

Standing at the front desk is Ace — AIA’s front operations agent. If anything moves in or out of this place, Ace already knows about it… and has likely already filed it.

The clock is louder in here. Every tick echoes through the room — a steady reminder that time is already working against us.

There are no other sounds. No footsteps. No voices. Just the clock.

Grumpus and Ace exchange a brief nod — no words. This room is almost certainly being listened to. The CMC doesn’t miss much… especially conversations they’re not invited to.

Without hesitation, Ace produces a folder and hands it to Agent Grumpus.

And just like that… Case File #093 is active.

The Gator Gate Gathering Magic Convention

06/04/2026

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