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Sammy was sleeping peacefully during the day while the bus was on the way to Toronto. The ghoul was doing its job, driving. Sammy was doing what Sammy always did when he was asleep. He dreamed. Sammy's dreams were always odd, and today's were particularly weird, possibly because of that odd breathmint that he had eaten. Sammy was dreaming that he was alone on a giant spiderweb. The spiderweb would sometimes glow, red or green or brown or just flash white. Sammy was looking along the webs and he could see faces and people. He recognized Parr, and a couple of other people in the bus. He could also see other people. Many people in different places. But they all had something in common. None of them lived quite in the normal world. They all were...different. And something was coming after them. He could feel it in the distance. Far from some of us, VERY close to others. It was like something was touching the web at points. These points would glow and he could feel the pain of whoever was at that point. Then the point would burn out. He could feel the flames of whatever it was trying to find something. Suddenly Sammy realized two things. First of all, that the thing was NOT (as were several Malks) in Egypt. It was strong there, but it was just not there. Secondly, that the thing, whatever it was, had found him again.
"YOU AGAIN!!!! WHY ARE YOU HERE!!! YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!!!"
He could see the lines of force gathering to find him.
"What do you want? Why do you hound us so?" Said Sammy.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?? WHAT MAKES YOU DIFFERENT?? HOW DO YOU KNOW SO MUCH? IF I CAN NOT DISCOVER THAT, THEN YOU ARE OF NO USE TO ME."
A beam passed close to Sammy's arm. He could feel the heat, the pain, searing his flesh. "You want to know WHY? You want to know how we know? I'll tell you why. We have the knowledge that comes from pain. The wisdom that shows itself in madness, in insanity. Have you ever gone insane? Have you ever had your mind TWISTED?? HAVE YOU EVER FELT PAIN?"
Sammy gathered all the pain that he felt in that one instant. All the hate and rage and pain that had been inflicted on all of them, focused it into a single thought and launched it at the thing. "HERE'S OUR WISDOM."
If it is possible to go unconscious in a dream Sammy had done it.
Unfortunately, as he found out when he "woke" back into the dream. Whatever
he had hoped to accomplish had not happened as the thing was still there.
But it seemed...taken aback. If not weakened at least confused. That all
changed when it focused back on Sammy.
"I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME. BUT IT WAS NOT PLEASANT AND WE ARE NOT AMUSED."
As the beams gathered for one last fatal (again) pass at Sammy, he wondered if it was such a good idea to enrage immensly powerful beings in dreams. "Remind me not to do it again." was his last coherent thought before shutting off all higher brain functions to wait Final Death. He was therefore surprised when he didn't feel the beams slicing his skin. In fact, if this was Final Death, it wasn't half bad. As an experiment he opened his eyes.
"Neat place," he thought as he observed the whirls of colors and words that had no meaning, kind of like living in a vigorously whirling multicolored paint can. A smallish girl/woman (it was hard to tell) was (sitting? Floating?) next to Sammy. Hair that was buzzcut one second and long and red or blond the next, one green eye, one blue eye.
She giggled as Sammy woke up. "Yes." she said in a voice that sounded red and green and blue at the same time.
"I made it myself. I like you. I like all of you."
As the rest of the Vamps in the bus woke up that night and continued their drive to Toronto, the only odd thing was that Sammy was nowhere to be found.
The ghoul had seen nothing. The only thing left on his bunk/bed were some burn marks and some multicolored paint which soon evaporated into sillysmoke and drifted away.
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Dyer has been lonely in The Bar for quite some time. He takes one last look around and gets up to leave, not bothering to tshek the time. As he pushes the door open and the beams of sunlight began to hit him, he is surrounded by a bubble of energy. (whitsh is odd, bekause the last time he saw a bubble like this was when his marauder friend said he was kommiting suiside.)
Dyer awakes from his short sleep to the sound of tires rolling. He sits up and bumps his head on the ceiling of...wherever he may be. He looks around and notises several other bodies skattered around. Squinting, he rekognizes some of them as friends from the bar... Figuring he was among friends he put his head bak down and klosed his eyes.
Only as an afterthought did he wonder how he got there, but by then of kourse it was too late.
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The bus, warm and stuffy with engine heat, gasoline fumes, and twelve hours worth of chain smoking, was still roaring, and if not precisely in the direction of the sunset then reasonably close.
Anna was the first to blink her eyes open and sit up. This was a dependable thing, and she liked it that way; gave her a chance to rifle pockets. Which she duly did, finding nothing particularly interesting except a small bottle of God-knows-whose blood in the inner pocket of the snappily- dressed one with the connivey-looking face. A quick sniff and taste determined it was actually Anna's own, which pissed her off. And there was a key in Parrhesia's--thank Caine she at least had an easy-to-remember name--left hip pocket. Fetal positions were the greatest for getting at those all-important hip pockets, she mused.
A short volley of kicks and the abrupt removal of the spare clothes of hers and Skummy's they'd burrowed under--damn 'em--had the rest of the bus's residents on either their feet, knees, or heads, depending upon their corresponding paranoia levels. Anna couldn't help laughing at them. For crying out loud, they looked like rats with their tails tangled together. Among other, nastier things. Intestines came to mind.
"So...before I have to head up to drive, let's get a couple of things straight. It's only a few minutes from here, so I'll make it quick."
Pairs of eyes registering various reactions blinked up at her.
"We're heading to the airport, yeah?"
Nods and agreements. A tedium-ridden glance from Dyer. A cool name, he had. She could get to like this guy if he didn't loll around so much looking vaguely angst-ridden. Too Torey. He DID look good in her coat, however.
"All right. No feeding off Skummy."
"That's only one thing," chimed one of the Malkavians. God, how Anna HATED being interrupted. She pounced down and in the space of less than a second had the curly-haired malk's arms pinned above her head and was kneeling on her chest.
"NEVER. EVER. TALK. WHILE. I. AM. !@#!#$%@#. TALKING TO YOU."
Heron was her name, Anna remembered--yipped assent. Stupid damn malky. She was glad it hadn't been the Nosferatu over in the corner there, who seemed to have drifted off to sleep again. She couldn't have dealt wih nossie stink on her boots. And what the flaming hell was a nossie doing with a bunch of loonies anyway? Damndest thing. Oh well, she'd have time on the plane to figure that one out.
"Right. No feeding off Skummy while he's sleeping. No damn malky tricks in the airport. And I'm going with you."
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ME turned over... usually, always in fact, she couldn't wake up... tonight was different. Perhaps it was the trepedation of her impending doom... perhaps it was the knowledge that all of Malkidom could rest upon whether they failed or not... perhaps it was the fact that Handel kept mumbling in his sleep and kicking her in the back.
Whatever it was... she couldn't concentrate on sleep.
She stood up, and peered down upon the babbling Handel. He didn't look well... he kept mumbling the same name over again, as if the mere act of expressing the word would cause her to materialize before him and fulfill his very existence.
[WHEW!!!! TOO MUCH THINKING]
ME, always the one to want to do good for all, worried about Handel's fragile existence. Was this nightmare brought about by the strain of the coming conflict.... the memory of a loved one long ago lost to the inhumane world... or perhaps he had drank just a LITTLE too much of his beloved god, the rum. Whatever it was... it was bad.
* * *
She was coming to him again... like a dream. Her face formed before him... mocking him. He reached for her, but his fingers clasped upon empty space... she had forsaken him yet again. Handel screamed out her name "Carol."
He rolled over... his foot striking something firm, yet soft... he drifted.
He was on a plateau. As he watched, the sky turned a brilliant shade of red, and he could sense the doom of the oncoming sunrise... yet he stood without fear. Death was a virtue. She was gone again. Entering his mind like a waywad child, and snatching up the pieces of her which were left in his mind to carry away as she left him yet again... leaving him thus... a tattered drunk.
He screamed her name again in a vain hope that she would hear his plea and take pity upon his tortured soul... his voice soon joined her in her existence just beyond him, and all he could do from fear of going totally mad was whisper her name to the galloping streams, and let their waters carry his message far and wide.
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"Carol ...."
Waking, Handel finds himself splayed across the double bed. His mind races with the wonderous after effects of Omnicynic's liquor, checking neural pathways still function correctly. "Why does it have to do all of them at once?" Celerity of the mind only. Slowness of the body in obvious counterpoint.
"Am I dreaming still? Carol . . . that girl. Hair's about . . . nah face is wrong. Where are they? We're obvious targets here. I can't be bothered acting as the fish in the barrel. Once already, after all. Loose lips sink ships, but krakens do it better. Better . . butter, butter butters better. Bloody hell. I'm sick of this already. Hope JoN's keeping that idiot under control okay. Bored."
Dusk is still a little way off. Not feeling any urge yet to get up and about, Handel surveys the rest of the hotel suite, noting the comatose forms of Omnicynic, Nightshade and Arianna. Parr and her rather mixed company fill up some of the smaller rooms. Once again his eyes stray to the still form closest to him. She is quite like Her, really. American though, and a Malk, of course, but . . . He turns away and concentrates on remembering other times, fading in and out until there is motion around him again and he knows the sun has set.
"I find it surprising that we haven't had any more encounters, having been in this general area for such a long period," comes Omnicynic's voice. "Perhaps the information we gained is more useful than we first expected."
Cracking open his eyes again and exhaling a sour breath, Handel sits up on the bed. "I'm thirsty. Do you think we could feed and then start thinking?"
Muttered agreement comes from a number of others and the form beside Handel begins to stir at last. He pokes her in the ribs. "Wake up ME. You'll slow us down. No one asked you to follow us through Omni's portal. It's just as well we found you on the way back out of the sewers."
"Stop kicking ME, you old soak." Comes from the semi-conscious vampire. Slowly slowy she begins to come awake.
A thought springs to mind, and Handel stands to look for the mini-bar. Unfortunately, "mini" is the operative word. "They call this a bottle?" he says incredulously, holding the item in question between thumb and forefinger. "Hell, let's get out of here."
With Handel rushing around inconsequentially trying to hurry the preparations of the other Malks, it takes about fifteen minutes before they are ready to leave. It would have been five, but Dyer, for one, has a problem with officiousness and doesn't see any point in hurrying.
"At last!" Says Handel. Dyer just gives him a disinterested glance.
Outside the terminal they pile into the battlebus and Anna starts the engine in accompaniment to the usual mechanical groans and curses until it finally turns over. Putting it into gear, she steps on the accelerator and promptly jerks the vehicle forward a few metres before it stalls. "What the $#!*?" She says.
"There's something on a wheel," says Omnicynic. "It appears to be some sort of clamp."
Cursing further, Anna leaps down from the cab and speeds outside. There is a further sound of cursing and then the screeching of metal. She returns holding a rather mangled lump of steel and throws it into the aisle.
"Right. Guess where we're going to feed?"
* * *
Pulling up outside the towing firm, Anna and the others who want fresh food leave the bus. Parr is still ranting a bit, but has calmed down after the visit to the local blood bank for a withdrawal. Handel offers her some of his bottle to further placate her, but she pushes the spirits away with distaste.
Omnicynic arrives back from wherever he has been since leaving them at the liquor store and nods at those present before spreading out on the back seat. Dyer grumbles and moves over.
In a surprisingly short amount of time the hunting party returns, grinning and flushed with blood.
"Those bastards won't be clamping or towing anyone for a while," Anna says while wiping her chin. "Where to now?"
"Egypt."
"WHAT? Well, back to the airport, then." Anna flops into the driver's seat again. "Stupid Malks," she mutters.
"NO." The voices are those of Omnicynic and Handel.
"It was better when Ere took part," says ME. "Funny ringing undertone, though."
"HEAD NORTH, DRIVER."
Dyer looks a little worriedly at Omnicynic. "Something's not right," he mutters. The bus travels on. Anna is unable to resist the twin voices.
"LEFT HERE."
ME notices that Handel hasn't taken a sip from his beloved bottle in over two minutes. She feels a chill go up her spine and turns to Parr.
"INTO THE COMPOUND."
Rising around them, the central city skyscrapers form three walls for the basketball courts the bus rumbles into.
"TOWARDS THE WOODS."
Anna drives the bus slowly over and through the various barriers between the courts and the small piece of parkland.
"Hmm. There's something in them," says Dyer to himself as the bus pulls up at the edge of the grass.
"Okay," says Handel in his normal voice. "I'll go and talk to them and get some more specific instructions. Best the rest of you just stay here with Omni. They don't like humans, let alone us, but we seem to have some sort of cooperative thing going at the moment. Back in a sec or so."
* * *
The extraordinarily quick forms of the men in overalls flitter over the bulk of Anna's bus. Occasionally one shimmers into a 9 foot tall thing that makes ME hide - "Aaargh. Fuzzies!" - and lifts up a larger section of the bus armour while others get busy underneath.
"What are they doing again?" Asks a worried Anna. She's not too sure whether she wants spirit-techno-gadgets all over her lovely bus, but realises that she now has little choice in the matter.
"The Glass Walkers are just outfitting the vehicle for limited Umbral/ Digital Web travel," says Omnicynic. "Quite interesting, really. I get the impression that they're trying to show up the other Garou Tribes by making more of a concrete contribution than any of the others. That, and they probably want us out of their city as fast as possible."
"Wha?"
"They're sort of making it like the De Lorean in 'Back to the Future', only it won't travel through time, only space."
"Oh. Well why didn't you say so in the first place?"
ME looks hard at the shiny bits and pieces the werewolves carry. "Which is the flux capacitator, then?"
* * *
Everyone sits as close to the front as possible, other than Dyer, who's back in the rear most seat.
"I don't think we have to get up to quite that amount of speed."
"They did it in the movie!"
"Some forward velocity should be necessary."
"Look at the shinies!"
"Anyone want a slug?"
"Will there be firey sparks and everything? I hope so."
"Hang on!"
The souped up bus screams down from the summit of the hill, gaining speed at an astounding rate.
"Hey, we're over 90! What's wrong?"
"Push the on button, dimwit!"
"Just a moment," says Day. "Don't we have to set coordinates?"
With the well known burst of sparks and neon highlighting the battlebus disappears with an inrush of air and a trail of firey tire tracks.
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Mr Badger wakes up. He takes off the chain from around his neck and kicks JoN in the stomach for tieing him to a torch bracket. The sounds of depravity echo off the stone walls of the Setite Shrine. Mr Badger reaches over and turns off the TV, the sounds of depravity stop. Another blow is struck against Spanish television.
Everyone is asleep on the floor. The Malks are arranged in what appears to be a floral design. All the Setites are huddled in the corner. One of the adepts is on watch. When Mr Badger draws near he reaches down and picks up a wooden stake. Waving the tip at Mr Badger the adept does his very best to appear threatening. After having his head bounced off the wall a few times the adept apologises and offers Mr Badger his favourite snake.
Refreshed after that brief snake, I mean snack, Mr Badger goes upstairs to see whats going on. Handel and R.O aren't back yet. They've been gone for days but it feels like weeks. Hate to think anything's happened to them. If anyone's going to stake'em in the dawn I'd want it to be me. Mr Badger walks out of the front door and is immediately pounced on by 5 Assamites. Mr Badger growls at the bodies on top of him. Only five????? What the hell sort of ambush is this?? I'll show them a thing or two.....
Mr Badger flings the assassins over his shoulder into the sand. As they get up they pull out an assortment of deadly weapons from out of their robes. Mr Badger's relieved to see no spades anywhere. One of the figures in black is carring a rake though. Mr Badger can imagine a certain Intelligence officer is going to have a bad day after this outing. Calling on the powers of the night Mr Badger steps into a nearby shadow and disappears. There's no real plan behind this, it's just that it looks so impressive Mr Badger tries to show it off as much as possible. Mr Badger walks out of a shadow on the other side of the street to a round of applause. The Assamites appreciate a good showman when they see it. When Mr Badger takes a bow the dark robed figure with the rake takes a swing.
Faking immediate unconsciousness Mr Badger falls to the ground and assumes a fetal position. The Assamites high five each other for a few minutes before patting the rake carrier on the back. From out of his robes the the leader produces an instant camera and starts to take trophy shots of each other standing on top of Mr Badger. While the rake carrier is standing on his chest Mr Badger reaches up with blinding speed and grabs the rake. In a flash he hits the young assassin in the groin with the handle. With a look of absolute horror the young Assamite collapses to the ground. The four surviving Assamites, with eyes watering in shared pain, circle Mr Badger. Mr Badger leans over and grabs the Assamite vomiting on the ground. With an attention to detail he then hits the standing Assamites with their companion. Once the young assassin loses his structual integrity Mr Badger dropkicks him over to the next street.
One of the four remaining robed figures turns to Mr Badger.
"You'll pay for that with your unlife," as he finished his cliched
statement he turns and legs it down the street.
The three figures now remaining look in disgust as they wish they had thought of that move. The leader locks eyes with Mr Badger in the classic stare down. No-one moves as the leader and Mr Badger match wills. The leader is certain he is winning when he feels something moving in the back of his head. Memories flashed before his eyes. He remembers his first knife, when he first killed, of how he's never been afraid of heights....Mr Badger smiles, that'll do. The Assamite shudders as he realises something really bad is about to happen.
The Assamite feels a switch being thrown behind his eyes. I can't be afraid of heights here. I'm standing on the ground. He looks down and sees the ground so very close, it's almost touching my feet, I've seen what happens when people touch the ground after falling, they go splat. I've got to get out of here. Don't let the ground touch me! Arrrrrrgh!
With a sickening scream the leader jumps up and down. Finding himself still too close to the ground he immediately starts to climb on top of the Assamite standing next to him. Once he's on his shoulders the leader starts to calm down. Much better now that ground is nice and far away again.
Mr Badger laughs. Being afraid of heights doesn't have to mean you're afraid of being away from the ground. The two nearly sane Assamites give Mr Badger a document folder and carry off their completely incoherent leader.
Inside the folder is a 'You Beat Up An Assamite' certificate and the details of the assassins' employer. The certificate means Mr Badger will never be bothered by the Assamites again. Looking at the contract for his being brutally killed he sees it was signed by Tremere Industries Australia Co. So they finally figured out we did it thinks Mr Badger. Looking down he notices that this contract was part of a two for one deal. The other name on the form is a Mr H W Care.
Hmmmmmm maybe I should warn Handel?? Maybe tomorrow if I can be bothered.
With that the Badger walks off to get some dinner, there's got to be an Orphanage around here somewhere?
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The dog led T'Revor through the Tempest toward the Skinlands. The three travellers were left alone by the Shades and Spectres which filled the void. The small dog whined at T'Revor to hurry as they walked. Soon the dog stopped and scratched at the void. T'Revor concentrated and soon could make out the cave in the Skinlands. The Shroud looked weaker here then it should have been. T'Revor took out a lantern from his robes and examined the barrier between worlds. A thin line, shaped like scar tissue spread down the Shroud. A powerful creature had ripped its way through recently. All this was to the travellers advantage as the transition would now be easier for the Barghest and its master. The dog whined once more and vanished. T'Revor followed its passage back to the Skinlands. He unsheathed his sword and with one stroke split the Shroud along the healing cut. With a roar a gale force wind blew through the gash as the spirit realm fought against this trespasser. T'Revor braced himself for the journey and stepped through the hole he'd made pulling the Barghest behind him.
Spooke opened his eyes. Something was licking his face and yet nothing was there. "Alex... help me..."
A sound not unlike a sonic boom rocked the cave. Spooke coughed as dust spilled onto his prone form. As his chest moved Spooke marveled at his body remembering how to cough but forgetting that it didn't need to breath. As he squinted his eyes he could nearly make out something moving around him.
T'Revor staggered as his body reformed. He'd used too much energy this time and would have to wait to get some back. The form in front of him was not of the living world. It had a core of Oblivion where its heart should have been. Another Vampire. The dog was licking its face. In the centre of the Vampires chest was a silver stake. Runes of power glowed along its length and into the vampire's chest. T'Revor bent over for a closer look and the runes flashed brightly.
Spooke screamed as the stake flashed white hot. It burned his flesh but did not sink in any further. Waved of agony rocked him and he started to lose consciousness. As suddenly as it started the silver stake cooled until all was as before.
The stake seemed to be warded against spirits thought T'Revor. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to torture this creature. As the Vampire thrashed in agony T'Revor soaked up the agony into himself. The more the Vampire suffered the more solid T'Revor's body become. Eventually T'Revor backed off and the runes' glow faded back to as it was before his arrival. Refreshed with new energy T'Revor analysed the situation. He couldn't pull the stake out himself and it was obvious that the Vampire couldn't do it for himself either.
Spooke looked up as a form materialised in front of him. It took the shape of a man in a long black cloak carrying a sword in one hand and holding a large dog in the other. It bent down until its face was but a handspan away from his own. But its face, there was nothing there! There was a faint metallic glint but only shadows. It was as if the cloak was alive! Spooke could just make out what the figure was saying.
"I will help you Malkavian but there will be a cost."
Spooke cursed his luck at having left his cash card in the other pants.
"Who did this to you?" Asked the Wraith.
Spooke couldn't remember but had fleeting images of an animal with glowing yellow eyes, a woman shouting at him, asking him questions he couldn't answer then there was only pain.
"That is enough," the Wraith stood up again.
Spooke turned his head but could find no sign of Alex.
T'Revor focused his will and called on the Tempest.
"I will free you Malkavian but you will owe me a boon. Later I will come to
you asking for a favour and you will do exactly what I want. Do you accept
of your own free will?" Asked the Wraith.
Spooke nodded weakly then screamed as the stake burst into fire again.
T'Revor gathered the forces of the Tempest and focused them onto the silver stake. Waves of pure Oblivion washed around the stake and soon it started to melt. At the first touch of the spirit wind the stake knew it was under assault and fought back. The stake slowly lost its shape and collapsed into itself. There was a flash of released energy as the spirit bound into the stake was released. T'Revor wrapped the spirit in a net he drew from his belt. The spirit twisted and turned as it tried to escape but in vain. The Spirit grew fainter and fainter as its life energies were drawn off by T'Revor.
Spooke looked down at his chest as the stake seemed to evaporate into the air. His wound healed in front of his eyes. A vortex appeared in front of him. He felt Alex pulling on his heel as he was drawn into the portal. Everything went black as Spooke was spun around by the winds. All Spooke saw was a shiny bus coming at him at great speed before it hit him and the lights went out.
T'Revor watched the Malkavian get up and enter the Tunnel he had created using the spirit's energies. The Vampire disappeared into the Umbra with the dog at his feet. So the Sphinx is taking an interest in human affairs again. This time She will tell me the answers I seek. The location of that damned Mask will be mine finally.
With that T'Revor and the Barghest returned to the Shadowlands through the slit in the Shroud. This rip rapidly repaired itself after they had left.
All that was left in the cave was a scorched spot on the ground and the last moans of the wind.
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