Go to the Broadway Geocities
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The coffee shop was dimly lit, filled with even dimmer people. At least to the aura-sensitive eyes of Rev. Omnicynic. If only they would find the true light of Eris...
Across from the good Reverend sat Esteban, happily sucking on a double mocha expresso death drink from hell. At least, that's what the menu board called it. A few young humans passed the table where the two vampires rested, and Esteban turned to look them over. Grinning, he moved his small, tanned fingers in an odd pattern, shortly before the college gothgirl's cloak fell open from a suddenly unfastened clasp. He undergarments were less than fully covering.
Rev. Omnicynic smiled at his young apprentice. "Good, you're getting better at that. I'll show you some more after...," Omnicynic eyed the embarrased young girl, "...after we enjoy dinner. Sound good?"
"Gracias," beamed Esteban, "this magic stuff es easy!"
"Shhhh, not so loud," cautioned Omnicynic, "you never know who may be listening. Some people wouldn't like it if they knew you could do that. They're not nice folks, and you aren't strong enough yet to face them off. Patience--" He was cut off by an odd buzzing. Bending inwards, the Reverend plucked his pager from his Levis, and examined the number. "I'll be back shortly, Esteban," he said while getting up from the table, "you can handle yourself for a few minutes, right?" Esteban nodded while pulling some more mocha death up a clear plastic straw.
It didn't take long for Rev. Omnicynic to find the cafe's phone, and less time to clear out a comfortable space with Obfuscate. He could talk in private.
"Something trying to find us, Ere? Why do you--hey, what's that?" Sounds of violence emerge from the phone as JoN, half a continent away, gets the unliving hell beaten out of him. "Umm, Ere, you heard that too, didn't you? JoN? You think I should help him?" The oldish-looking malkavian sighed into the phone. "Fine...Where should he be, in general? Thanks."
Returning to his table, Rev. Omnicynic informs Esteban that he will have to go for a while, help out a friend. Esteban nods again, then finishes off the last of the caffiene-filled delight set before him. The straw makes funny sucking noises against the bottom of the cup.
"You know how to take care of the shop, right? Good. Get something to eat, then head home. I might not be back for several days, so see if you can find someone willing to stay at our place."
"No problem, Omni," replied Esteban, without looking up. Rev. O usually wasn't home anyhow.
"And stay away from Harley and Al, those Tremere are a bad influence. They might not like you knowing one of their magical paths, either, and I know Al is looking for an in with Rikki. Watch yourself."
Once Esteban had left, Rev. Omnicynic went into the cafe's back room, a room only he had a key for. Locking the door behind him, he placed a torch in the center of the room, lit it with an extremly long firestarter, and let the shadows dance across the wooden and brick walls of the back room. Closing his eyes, he extended his vision up, away, psychicly connecting into the higher planes of Malkavian sight. Finding the right thread, he slammed back down to Earth, following a cord of conciousness. With a bright flash of exploded memory, he gazed inwardly to the sight of JoN, broken on the ground, a large, dark figure towering over him (the figure knew JoN, how strange), and several young people in the mouth of the back alley. One mortal, one kindred, the other...fae? So hard to tell... The Reverend reached into JoN's mind, pulled forth the last few minutes, the murders, the phone call, the Man. Breaking his connection, Rev. Omnicynic sighed once more, then stepped into one of the whirling shadows, and was gone.
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the fiend stumbled down the stairs. they always looked three inches wider from where he looked. he continued stumbling out and accidently bumped into the being that jon was on about earlier. except this was before that.
"hello," said the fiend, "what are you doing here?"
"no good," came the reply.
"oh dear," was all the fiend could think of to say. "although nothings cheap nowerdays so...."
"shut up," said the mysterious being.
"even saying working for peanuts is not as effective as it was... i went into the store the other day to buy peanuts and they were bloody expensive..."
"Shut Up."
"mind you they were the sugar coated ones..... i wonder if elephants get those as a special reward... imagine an elephant on a sugar rush.... they could really......"
"SHUT UP!"
"do some damage to those tents.... i like the tents they remind me of candy floss an the way it gets caught up in you're face.... i once made a candyfloss machine that spun sugar and blood that was....."
"WILL YOU SHUT UP!!!!!!!"
the fiend turned and looked into the persona's eyes and was quiet....
then he shifted reality.....
then he said, "well if you don't want to listen go bother JoN."
and with that the _______ turned around and left......
the fiend thought about warning JoN and figured he'd call him in a couple of nights..... after all JoN was so far away right now and the fiend was....
"where was i again?" asked the fiend of himself. "oh thats right.... brilliant because i gave some to the prince who was at the fair that night and the night after that and the night after that and because i made it with my blood he was blood bound to me..... and then....."
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Looking in at a window, it would have been a decidedly ODD scene: dingy fabric streamers of most known colors and a few snappy tartans trailing to the floor from the exposed plumbing in the ceiling, obscenely shaggy purple carpet on the concrete floor AND the walls, and a kitty. Orange tabby with target patterns in white on his sides. Cute. Plus an equally cute curly-haired lass stretched out in a corner of the room, apparently asleep, smiling and drooling just a bit.
Keep in mind that this would depend upon there BEING a window, which there was not, and also upon there being anyone with a particular interest in looking into it, which there was not, partially because there wasn't one and partially because the only other person who would conceivably give a damn wasn't home at the time.
This was abruptly remedied as a flap of carpet in a corner of the room fliped violently up, followed by a small square of plywood and almost immediately afterward by an assertively disheveled dark head. The cat, startled, began a fruitless dash from Mercari's slumbering stomach to the opposite corner of the room. Before it had gone more than three feet,however, Mercari had noticed its abscence and imprudently used Celerity to snag it again so she could go back to sleep. The room, unfortunately, was small enough that she did in fact end up with an armful of hostile orange fur and also with enough momentum to send her shoulder-first into the wall. There was a faint popping sound, the cat ricocheted in another dirsaction, and Genevieve averted her eyes as Mercari re-adjusted her scapula. When that was done, she began babbling.
"There's...er..this bloody guy down by..er...I think you know him he's the one from the bar who was shooting and all that and there was a telephone but it wasn't mine so I didn't pick it up and anyway he was all injured and there was SOMEBODY ELSE there, only there were three of them and you know one of them and....and..."
Heron crawled over on her hands and knees and put a reasuring arm around Genevieve. "JoN? He does a lot of things that can get you injured, sweetheart. I wouldn't worry terribly. He probably thought he was a taco or something and did that to himself in order to better simulate the texture of ground beef and the color of picante sauce."
"Nooo...." Genevieve wailed. "He's REALLY...and I heard Erehwon on the phone before I got too scared to obfuscate anymore and left...there's something LOOKING for us, and I didn't even DO anything," she explained, and broke into tears.
"Uh-oh." Heron counted herself as only twenty years old, where Mercari was forty-three, but she'd been up to enough stuff herself that if someone was looking for her, they probably had a good reason. The Ventrue alone...yikes. "Look, Ginny, everything's going to be fine. You stay here and watch Merlin--don't forget to feed him--and I'll go take care of things."
Genevieve beamed in pitiful gratitude at Heron, and clambered out of the hatch. Heron ducked out, curly hair snagging on the plywood briefly, and made her way through the short tunnel to the outside world, coming up underneath one of the paving stones in the modest suburban home's garden walkway. Forgotten bomb shelters, she mused....gotta love 'em.
Lacking any real direction, she headed west, listening for howls of agony, the thud of blows landing, or any other indication of impending doom.
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While it is the early hours of the morning in the U.S., it is slightly before noon in Europe. A time when all good vampires are tucked up in bed, and Chriss was no exception..........
A bedroom, a large double bed and a mound of blankets encasing the occupant in a warm, safe cacoon as he sleeps curled up, thumb in mouth and he dreams......
* * *
He enters an office, gently throws his hat which lands effortlessly on the hat stand. A hand appears around the door holding a bunch of flowers, Chriss's grinning face follows it."Morning Miss Bunny-penny"
The fluffy White rabbit sitting at the reception desk blushes. "Morning Chriss, 'B' is waiting for you, go right in."
Chriss walks through the reception and into the room indicated by 'bunny-penny'.
Mr Bunny is Sitting behind his desk.
"Ah Chriss, their you are."
"I came as soon as I could, these are for you." He offers Mr B the flowers.
"Thank you, You have a crisis.
Colleagues are in trouble, you must help."
"What my fellow brothers again?"
"No not them, these aren't quite so close, but they need your help."
"Who? How? Whither? Whence and why?"
"Stop quoting Douglas Adams and listen, You have friends in the U.S. and you must contact them because ...."
* * *
Chriss wakes up screaming and confused. he feels trapped in his confined space, but quickly calms down.
The mass of blankets slithers of the bed like a cheap special effects monster from an old B-Movie.
It slithers out of the bedroom, to the kitchen, to the fridge and carefully pulls it open and half climbs in.
There is a rustling and slurping sound as the terrorfying monster feeds on cold chinese food and milk.
(Oh come on guys, think early sunday morning with a hang-over and you woke up early, feeling kinda 'fragile'!)
The blob slithers over the lap top PC and soon it begin to boot up.
A pale tenticle emerges from the mass and the five delicate tendrils probe for the phone which it retrieves into the mass.
It doesn't know who to phone yet, so it will wait.
But in the meantime, its studies the unusual file he downloaded a week ago...
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With a slow grinding that only Handel can hear the Lift doors open. Having fallen out of his mild mannered pose yet again, he strides manfully out of nowhere into somewhere . . .
There is a Snikt and he barely dodges the incoming claws of a vicious attacker.
"Shit Badger," he says whilst ducking. "Don't you ever get tired of greeting people that way?"
"What the hell have you been up to Handel?" snarls Mr Badger. "I've been (TM) ing, being cut off in one of my worl . . . Invercargill famous rants, and taking off Star Wars due to fighting the Easter Bunny more than a month before I usually get the chance to. I didn't have my lines prepared properly." He pauses. "Heey. Does that mean I get two pokes at the cowardly little piece of fur this year?"
"Well. That seems logical, but you know how logic is." Seeing Mr Badger's frown approaching again at great velocity, Handel quickly continues. "You never can tell, though. Look - this is how it is: there's some magical entity type thingy after us - all the Malks. It seems to think we know something about Unlife, the Universe and Everything and wants us to tell it. But when I tried to help, it didn't seem to value my input and said something about 'Getting you all' before it sank my boat and pissed off."
"You told it about the rum, didn't you?"
"Yes. What the hell else am I going to tell it about? The badgers?"
Mr Badger and Handel face off. Muzzle to nose. Growling rises from both of them. The surrounding, yet so far surprisingly quiet, Black Spiral pack begin to edge slowly away. The largest of them tentatively begs leave, "We'll be off then, mate. Cheers," and they break into a run, disappearing into the woods.
"Geez you've got bad breath, Badger."
"Hah, you can bloody talk." They pull apart. "Well, I didn't get asked any questions. The Bunny usually just tries to beat me to a pulp so he can take me away to the mind scanner control room, where they can concentrate the satellite beams so that even I can't hold out for long. Either that or have his wicked way with me - I haven't quite figured it out yet."
Used to this particular tirade, Handel has been looking around the area. "Where the hell are we?"
"Buggered if I know. North of where I usually am is all I'm sure of. How'd you find me?"
"I pushed the right button. The Lift got me to you on only the second try. I had a brief stopover in the States somewhere and saw that woman with the shinies and the fuzzy aversion." He rubs his beard unconsciously. "The one from the bar."
"Oh riiight." Mr Badger scratches himself in concert with Handel. "Damn ghoul fleas. You can never get rid of them, and they've got a nasty bite."
Handel moves a little further away. "Umm, yeah. I sent that glowy-faced thingy whatsit packing - along with a few more of its goons." Despite his tone he appears somewhat worried at the ease of his previous stand-off tactic. "It just seemed a bit simple. There's something I'm missing."
A cat wonders into the street, normal in every way. Normal that is if you're used to cats having glowing yellow eyes and intelligence behind them as well. Mr Badger and Handel make hand motions of the famous Paper/scissers/stone variety.
"One, two, three...you lose Badger! See ya!!" Says Handel, legging it down the street.
"Bugger it! Here kitty, kitty." Says Mr Badger as he trys to hide his claws and fangs.
The cat approaches in a way that can still be considered threatening even given its minute size. When in reach the cat licks Mr Badger's hand and in between spitting says...
"You can run but you can't.."
"..hide?" Interrupts Mr Badger, as even he could see where this conversation was going. Not waiting for the inevitable threats and promises of dire consequences if co-operation is withheld Mr Badger picks up the cat and goes for the national drop kick record.
"It's good! It's good!" Cries Mr Badger as the cat sails into the night. A crash can be heard in the distance shortly followed by a loud explosion.
"Gotta switch that cat to de-caff," mumbles Mr Badger as he turns away.
Straight into view comes the same glowing yellow eyes but this time inhabiting a tiger.
"How droll," says the tiger as it shows Mr Badger that he isn't the only one with claws.
"Bollocks!" Cries our hero with feeling.
"Now, about that information I was after," Purrs the tiger in a way that only wild cats can make convincing.
Mr Badger tries the never fail enemy avoidance trick of pointing over the tiger's shoulder and saying "Look at that really interesting thing over there!"
"Really. I throught you Malkavians would try harder then that." Replies the tiger.
Having never had that particular trick fail before Mr Badger is stunned.
Then suddenly an idea!
Mr Badger points over his own shoulder and says "Look at that really interesting thing over there I'm missing out on!"
While the tiger takes the opportunity to peer around him, Mr Badger runs away in the same direction Handel took. As he turns a corner Mr Badger runs right past Handel who is camoflagued in the shadows.
"Pisssssed! It still chasing you Badger?" Calls Handel.
"What ya think Sherlock!" Replies the Badger nearing light speed.
As the tiger comes adjacent to him Handel hurls himself onto the Tiger's back and attaches a giant, over-sized clothes peg on to the scruff of the tiger's neck.
"Warrrrgh...murp? Growls and then whines the tiger.
"Ha ha!" Yell Handel and Mr Badger in a poor attempt at close harmony.
Mr Badger pointedly does not ask Handel where the hell he got the clothes peg and Handel makes twice as sure he doesn't try to find out either.
"What are we goin' to do with kitty litter here?" Asks the now stationary Badger. Handel whispers into Mr Badgers ear and Mr Badger hits him in the stomach for being a faggy Torry. Handel punches Mr Badger in the face for being an asshole and Mr Badger replies with a kick in the groin. The tiger looks to the heavens and wishes his mistress would release him from this Plane or at least that the two scrapping Kindred would go away.
An hour later when the fight has degenerated into name calling a fragile peace breaks out.
"You going to do it or what, ya poof?" Snarls Mr Badger.
"Alright then I will, Ferret face!" Taunts Handel as he raises his mighty powers of Rummery....
* * *
Two hours later a very drunk tiger is supported by two equally drunk Vamps as the three of them stagger through the city.
"And then (hic!) the Pope says no thank you I gave at the office!" Slurrs Mr Badger. An outroar of laughter breaks out as the three of them hear (what they think to be) the funniest joke in the world.
Time passes and the drunks leave the joke stage and enter the morose stage:
"....my mistress never loved me," says the tiger. "She just wants me to capture you all and take you to her haven in the Umbra."
"Aw thats not true and any way we love you," replies Handel.
"You guys are the greatest," dribbles the tiger. "Gotta be off now, I'll see ya later."
The tiger doesn't so much step sideways as fall over on to the ground and miss.
"What da ya think Handel?" Asks the not so sober Mr Badger.
"I think we should tell someone about this, but first I need a drink." Replies Handel.
"This looks like Christchursh. 'Spose we could try the airport, but that's just what the bitch . . . umm what the hell d'ya call a female feline anyway . . . would expect us ta do. They do have a bar there. Have to find da ovvers - warn 'em. Hagbutt an' fiend are closest, but I haven't heard any thing from pink an' fluffy for ages, an I wouldn't know hwere to start looking for them. Damn continents. We need to shtart somewhere shmaller."
Handel looks thoughtful, whilst Mr Badger looks bored.
"How about Hawaii? The bunny woman must know about the whereabouts of some of the others. . . an' there's at least four Malks there, there's less ground to cover too."
"BUNNY WOMAN?"
"Oh Christ. Easy man. She's one of us, remember?"
Handel decides that perhaps a 'plane would be the best means of travel after all, and is likely to really put the Voice off the trail - "After all if she thinks that we think that she thinks that . . . " he justifies to himself.
Mr Badger falls asleep in the gutter.
After a while Handel comes out of his ponder, checks his head is still on, picks up the Badger and heads for the airport. A little obfuscation and enhanced strength lead to them both slumbering in packing crates in the belly of a Hawaii bound jet.
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