Spooke motormouthed on while regarding Handel, who was staring at the wall. Not that this was unusual, but he hadn't drunk anything first. Spooke shifted his gaze to the pile of jackets. Well, the celery stalks at midnight, he thought philosophically, and turned back to the white-faced Anna. Whew, good thing she wasn't driving.
* * *
Handel stared at the wall blankly. boats and rum and CAROL and boats and rum and CAROL and
Dyer, who had taken a position in the middle of the bus, watched the mix with hooded eyes, arms folded and breath shallow. He looked practically comatose. But then, so did Handel, who was mouthing something to himself while staring at the wall; something was wrong here. He hadn't even opened a bottle. Dyer's eyes flicked to the right. Spooke was babbling incessantly to Anna, who was so incensed that she had failed to notice that they were spinning through a vortex that no doubt would have driven any other clan insane. Also, he was puffing himself into a semblance of himself, having the imprint of the front of the bus on him. He looked as though he had won the hundred yard dash in a ninety yard gym.
At the front of the bus, Omni sat with the other one, Skummy. Skummy was driving mechanically, eyes empty and unmoving, under Omni's steady gaze. Anna was spitting mad now, and trying to trash whoever was keeping her from tearing Spooke's tongue out - only no one was. At least, no one she could see. Dyer watched the heavyset dog tug on the seat of her pants for a moment, then, losing interest once more, turned his head towards the end of the bus, where ME sat quivering under a pile of jackets. Occasionally, the edge of one would lift and she would peer at Handel thoughtfully, only to catch a glimpse of the dog and burrow back under with an alarmed squeak. The occasional, disconsolate squeak of a rubber duck emerged from within. Sitting nearby, Parr was slumped into a seat, unaware or uncaring of the french fries stuck in her hair. Occasionally, she would lightly run her fingers over the long, white scars that marred her arms.
Close by, a malk sat grumbling at a younger one. The image of this one blurred, reformed, split into facets and reformed again. The younger one was whining about not having hit the older one on purpose. In the seat behind them, Torchy sat entranced by a pocket lighter, oblivious to Sammy, who was talking to him animatedly, gesticulating wildly (occasionally whacking Jester's hat off). Jester, sitting behind them, sat with his arms wrapped around his hat, glaring at Sammy to no effect.
Dyer closed his eyes. Wished there was a tv in here. Wondered when somebody would notice that they had taken a wrong turn and were headed to Hawaii.
* * *
[ok, so NEXT issue we'll do something nasty to someone JoN doesn't like.]
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80: under the jackets - ME
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ME kept looking out from under the jackets, and waiting for an opportunity to arise... but the puppy-wup wouldn't leave... how was she ever going to get a chance to speak with Handel? She whimpered softly.
Maybe if she asked him nicely, he would come under here, and they could speak... she was so confused... what was she supposed to do?
She peeked again, and saw Spooke staring at her... he laughed.
"HEY!!!! What are you laughing at?"
Then, with bravery Spooke was sure the little Malk could not possess, she threw the jackets off and charged him... only to be knocked unsconcious by his hand.
* * *
She could see him in the distance... he was standing on a ledge, with his hand below his chin. What was he doing? The sun was coming up...
She shivered. Should she approach him? He began to scream.
"CAROL!!!!!!!!!!! CAROL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COME BACK TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"
She recoiled... perhaps she should leave him be... but she couldn't and she knew it. She had always had the burning passion to help others... and this haggerd vamp was no exception. She sat and watched him for awhile. He was so fascinating... his mind... she wanted to know how it worked. One moment he would stand and seem fine, then the next he would remove a tiny bottle from his jacket, exclaim "damn mini bars", chug down the liquid, and begin screaming again.
Then, turned and saw her hidden in the shadows...
"carol...?"
"no... just ME."
"oh... I thought that maybe... no... it couldn't have been.
Please go away... I need to be... alone."
"no one needs to be alone... especially not you... you need someone to talk to."
"I'm finished talking..."
ME felt something pulling on her... no... not yet. She didn't want to go back. She wanted to tell him something else... something she had dreamed about long ago... about a man and his girl... it reminded her of him... but he was fading now... it was not yet the time.
* * *
"You okay, ME?"
"huhn?" She looked up into the faces of people she knew. He was there among them. Maybe he hadn't disappeared. She reached up and touched his face, and he pulled away.
"That was some wallop there... didn't mean to knock ya so hard... what on earth possessed you to charge me like that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She searched for him. He was sitting alone staring at a bottle... it was a different bottle, but contained the same liquid she was sure... he looked at it for awhile, then through it across the bus.
A small dog approached her and began licking her hand, which she promptly pulled away and winced. She got up and scrambled for her hiding place, taking one last cursory glance at the lone figure. He was reaching for the bottle again...
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81: Attack of the Deranged Killer Fuzzy Hater
- Grand Spooke Malke
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...Spooke sat quietly, mind percolating steadily over the intricacies of navigational wiring. Finally the Brujah had given up and decided to take a rest - an abrupt decision he felt sure he could thank one of the others for. Maybe Omni. He risked a sideways glance at the Reverend. Omnicynic seemed preoccupied with controlling Skummy; evidently, he hadn't noticed their slight change of destination. But then, it wasn't Skummy or the Rev. that Spooke had 'distracted'. Busses can really be quite naive.
A shuffling made him look towards the back of the bus. On the left of Dyer, who was apparently dozing, the edge of the pile of jackets had just lifted for the millionth time. Spooke had counted. Well, he had lost count a few times, but he'd added some times he was sure there would have been if he'd been paying attention.
A hand extended from under the jackets tentatively, slowly lifting the edge of the pile enough for a pretty face to peer out worriedly. At that moment, Parr, who was asleep in the seat above ME, turned, knocking a rubber duck off the edge of her seat. It landed on ME's unwitting head with a soft plop.
Spooke stared. Now there was a worried-looking girl peering out from... under a DUCK!! Unable to stop himself, Spooke broke into a laugh. Which was abruptly cut short.
"HEY!!!! What are you laughing at?"
Suddenly the pile of jackets exploded into a furious whirlwind of thrashing arms. Startled (and shocked), Spooke lost his balance, falling off the back of the seat he had been perched on - and winging ME but good.
Spooke struggled into a crouch (ever tried that when on your back with your lower body in the air in a small space?? damn straight it was a struggle!!). Warily, he poked his head above the back of the seat. Handel was squatting above the prone form of ME, who lay sprawled all over the floor amid a scattering of jackets. Further down the bus, somebody snored. Further up the bus, Anna had sat up and was watching them, silent for once, face unreadable. Well, to a non-malk. Or a malk who couldn't be bothered to read it. Spooke paused. Handel wasn't holding a bottle. In fact, all he was holding was ME.
Oblivious to this scrutiny, Handel peered closely at ME. "You okay, ME?"
"huhn?" ME replied intelligently, her eyes crossed. She blinked a few times as Handel put her down.Spooke approached quietly as she reached up and touched his face. As he flinched away, Spooke leaned down, considered his personality stereotypes, and said, "That was some wallop there... didn't mean to knock ya so hard... what on earth possessed you to charge me like that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She ignored him completely, looking around for Handel, who had retreated to his corner and his bottles.
With a huff of worry, Alex came over and licked her hand, making her pull away and wince. As Spooke tackled Alex she got up and scrambled for her hiding place, taking one last look at Handel.
Spooke watched her cower beneath a single jacket and then glanced at Dyer. Silently he asked a question, his hands twisting dextrously. Dyer, who hadn't seemed to open his eyes the whole time, shrugged. Spooke motioned towards Alex, who was wagging his tail in a conciliatory manner and straining to reach ME. Dyer, without a word, motioned for him to put the dog beside him. With a grunt and a heave, Spooke hefted Alex up onto Dyer's lap, which surprised him sufficiently for him to open his eyes all the way, and gathered up some more jackets to throw over the shivering ME. Turning, he was about to go talk to Handel when the bus THUMPed solidly down onto the ground and the bus was filled with soft blue starlight. Singing could be heard, not far off.
Omnicynic's voiced rose questioningly above the sound of surf: "I didn't know they held luaus in- WHAT THE FUCK????"
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82: Houston, we have a problem...
- Reverend Omnicynic
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A brief pause, Omnicynic closed his eyes and leaned back against the front kinda seat buffer thing they have on those buses. When he opened his eyes again, the other malks were just begining to comprehend that perhaps something was amiss. All except one, who just sniggered a little bit, and Handel, who was still having a somewhat uninspired conversation with the wall.
"We ain't in Kansas no more, Toto," said Omnicynic. Looks like we're on Waikiki beach, Hawaii." Spooke gave the Reverend an' "I told ya so" look, which Omnicynic blithely ignored.
"Anyone for seafood? Oh, hey, isn't lisa or someone like there living around here? Maybe we should find 'em and crowd this vehicle even more, eh?"
The door of the bus opened just as several dozen natives approached to see just how a continental vehicle drove to their island...
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83: Like Sands Through the Assamites
- Handel W. Care
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Sniff
"I think I can smell the sea."
Disengaging his gaze from the wall, Handel exits the bus and pushes through the crowd of Hawaiians regarding the out of place vehicle. Still appearing to have his mind on other things, he wanders down the sand and starts wading into the ocean. Steadily pushing through the waves he remains upright despite the surf and gradually disappears into the swell of water.
Spooke is pointing out surfers and laying bets on which one will run into Handel and what might happen. Omnicynic is blissfully unaware of the figures on boards, as they do not exist to his particular perceptions.
The locals suddenly start milling around aimlessly and then head back to their celebrations. Someone has exerted themselves. Jester looks around at the others, his hat clinking merrily, but he's buggered if he knows who did it. Music and laughter come from the direction of the luau, which seems back in full swing. With a jaunty step Jester wanders erratically towards the festivities. Torchy is not far behind him, his eyes slightly glazed over and reflecting the light of the huge bonfire. Still he fondles the flamethrower rescued from the bar.
Comatose over the wheel, Skummy dreams terrible dreams. Piloting
the bus through the maelstom of energies has taken its toll on the ghoul
despite the protection offered by Omnicynic.
"Why did you have to name me Ebenezer, Mom?"
ME has been trying to get the emergency rear door to open, but it has several hundred pounds of heavy metal shielding blocking it. The wispy but fuzzy dog is too close to the front exit, and seems to be waiting for her! None-the-less, Handel has headed outside, still looking more out of it than usual, and still possibly sober - she must try to help him. Taking her courage and a big leather coat (for fuzzy protection) in both hands, ME tremerously stalks down the bus and then leaps out the door in a blur of speed. She throws the jacket at the fuzzy (it passes right through) and rushes down the beach looking for the worrying drunkard.
Dyer picks up the jacket and puts it on. Alex whuffs at him slightly as it passes marginally through his form.
* * *
Further down the beach Handel exits the waves, still looking distracted. "Couldn't find boat either," he mutters subvocally. He starts trudging up the beach towards the trees. In his present state he misses the bottle of Bourbon (same Intelligence officer) left in a most unlikely smooth area of sand and wanders on past. There is a stirring in the sands and five figures rise to their feet in an obviously choreographed movement, mica falling off their predrawn blades. With an aura of sublime menace and supernatural quiet they prepare to cowardly smite the woebegone vampire from behind.
"Handel! Behind you!" Screams ME.
"Shit," say the Assamites.
With his sabre drawn, Handel turns to face them. He looks a little pissed off and more than a little versed in the arts of chopping others into chunks with the thing.
The lead Assamite notices this and decides to do something particularly nasty to Handel's blood with that nasty ol' Assamite Discipline. How unfortunate that Handel has more rum than blood.
"Ooo. That tickled. Try this." Down goes the lead Assamite in a shrunken lump as his poison blood tries to destroy the 50% alcohol that more than half of it has been converted to. He appears to be in torpor.
At this, one of the four remaining assassins scarpers in an unprofessional manner (seems there's always one, eh). One of the remainder goes the same way as the leader and the other two scrabble to get out a document folder. ME, who has been creeping up all this time, bangs their heads together with a resounding DONG! and Handel takes care of the concussed vampires with his sword and a few bits of driftwood. That done, they open the folder and find the 'You Beat Up An Assamite' certificate and other information contained within. Handel has no fear that Badger has taken care of his murder squad and grins for the first time in a while. Paperclipped to the contract with Tremere Industries Australia Co. is a writ of confirmation from the local branch and permission to kill, maim, Quietus and whatever in the bounds of Hawaii. An address is attached.
Throwing his arm around a surprised ME and striding puposefully back towards the bus, Handel decides to show it to his fellow Tremere despiser - Spooke. Time to use that exact change.
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Back to the StoRyliNe or To the next part
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