"OK," he begins, "I found the address. It's the Sunshine Creche and Day School, 8427 Dry Tears Avenue, Great Men Barrio. I called and asked to speak to the director, and the phone rang six time before anyone picked up. The guy who answered, a Norman Souster, said the director was out. I told him that Victoria was being seen by a doctor and I asked him to call her parents. He said yes right away and hung up without even giving me time to fill in the details." He grimaces. "Now, I have a... knack, I guess you could say. I can generally tell when people are lying. I *know* this guy was lying. Between all these little things that are odd, and what was done to the kid, well, I think we might want to check what's going on at the Sunshine Creche. I'm not sure what to do with the little girls during that time, though."
"Well, perhaps we should go there an attempt to show this deceitful and callous individual the error of his ways? Try to give him more allocentric priorities?" As Ingar speaks, he attempts to crack his knuckles. However, they just bend, shapelessly, like big slabs of gristle.
Leo takes an involuntary half-step back, incapable of gazing away from those hands. The hands of a healer, no doubt. He finally manages to shake himself when Ingar stops his attempts to produce interesting sounds by grinding his own bones for a change.
"Uh, yeah, well..." his voice falters a bit, then steadies. "It'd be nice to make sure of what's going on first... Make sure that we get the guys we're looking for, get them all, and don't allow them any hostages. Plus there's still Victoria and Marda to take care of. Harvey is insisting on bringing Victoria to D'Aubainne Hospital, but I don't think it's a good idea to drop her somewhere without keeping an eye on her. Plus D'Aubainne Hospital is in Justice Barrio, and I'm not sure we want to hang out there. Although Dr. Bennett's clinic is there too, for what it's worth."
He runs a hand through his curly hair, still tousled from sleep. "Then there's Sam, who's hell-bent on creating something that looks an awful lot like a pipe bomb, at least that's what he's muttering about. And..." He glances across the street - "Chris and KK seem to have adopted another naked weirdo from nowhere. It seems to happen a lot, 'round here. God, I hope Chris brings back coffee, I sure can use it."
Ingar replies: "You are quite right, my friend. My only objection is that you should not call the nude newcomer a weirdo. It is a demeaning expression, I think. Not that I think that you meant anything bad by using it, but well, you know... I also think we should try to persuade Sam that while it is quite normal to be upset about the way Victoria was treated, to resort to explosives would be wrong."
As they speak, they see Chris and KK return, followed by a Glad-bag-clad cad, somewhat crestfallen. It transpires that Arne Frank's Dairy was closed. Leo and Woofard, along with anyone else who wants to accompany them, go out and get coffee, donuts, pastries, fruit, etc. etc. etc. for everyone. Said food is brought back and duly consumed.
Sam, working feverishly in the snack bar kitchen, manages to fill the entire bowling alley with noxious fumes, and comes up with something that looks amazingly like a pipe bomb at the end of his efforts (it's a "light the fuse and throw" type, with a 30-second fuse). Sam talks to Leo between bites of pastry and sips of scalding coffee. "So you found this place?" This is interrupted by unprintable remarks after burning his tongue; all anyone can make out is "...should sue 'em..." After he regains his composure he says, "I've got my door knocker ready if anyone else wants to go."
Dr. Bennett stops by, her van followed into the parking lot by the ominous form of Doc Shokk's RV. With the x-ray equipment therein, she is able to ascertain that Victoria Moss has suffered no broken bones. The bill comes to $250.00 and the pair depart, after freeing Victoria from the backboard.
While breakfast is being consumed, KK downs another little pill for the pain, and when the good doctor and bad doctor arrives, he scores some anticeptical and a fresh bandage for his nose.
Harvey arranges to purchase a small bag with assorted medical kit in it, he also takes the opportunity to go by his hotel room for a change of clothes and pack a grip with some extra clothing and some toiletries. He complains about the disappearing courier without success. On his return he hunts amongst the debris of the bowling alley for his extremely expensive camera, worth several thousand dollars, which he carelessly put down or dropped at some point.
Goodness smokes several cigarettes.
Upon close examination, it is ascertained that Ben Crutcher seems to have died during the night. Ingar looks up from the haikus he is reading and begins busily standing around, looking at no one in particular, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looks both sad and embarrassed.
Harvey plans to head out with anyone going after the abductors. On the way, since no one else gets to it first, he picks up the industrial-strength cattle prod Ben had been carrying. "Another corpse" he comments in an unsurprised tone. "This will need to be cleaned up later or there will be a disease risk. Anybody know if he had next of kin?"
"WHAT!?" KK bursts out. "He's DEAD? Man, how did this come to be? We're supposed to show up at Compton's tomorrow. I don't think he'll be amused if I bring him another corpse!" he raves on. "Or maybe he will," he shrugs. "Damn. Well, I don't know if he had any relatives. Maybe that tall guy, Leo, knows? He met him earlier than me. Christ, I hope he's got enough money to pay for his funeral. How did he die anyway? Did he say the famous last words too?"
"Well, I guess I could take care of the corpse," says Ingar, trying not to sound eager. "I am surprisingly resistant to pathogens, and there is no knowing what such a brute could be carrying around in his bloodstream." This is spoken with a contempt stemming in part from having no hemoglobin in one's body outside the digestive system. "Furthermore, we were not exactly at friendly terms, and I would like to atone for my unmannered behaviour towards him yesterday." A gob of drool appears at the edge of Ingar's mouth as he speaks. He wipes it away with a large handkerchief, which gives of a hint of smoke as he slips it back into his pocket.
"Um, Ingar" says Harvey, "how do you plan to dispose of the body? Do you have experience in this kind of thing?"
Ingar nods sagely. "In my childhood, I had to learn to deal with many contingencies, as we lived in a quite isolated settlement." He leaves off further comment as to how he plans to effectuate the disposal.
Harvey considers asking for further details, then on consideration decides he knows quite enough. "That explains a lot," he adds.
Ingar, gingerly and with great respect and concern, scoops up Ben's corpse and trundles off. The alacrity with which his oddly shaped legs propel him out the doors of the bowling alley is most certainly the result of concern for the welfare of Victoria and a desire to bring those who harmed her to justice with all possible speed, balanced against the need to provide a fitting and respectful send off for the recently departed Ben.
"Hey, where are you going with that body?" KK objects. "I still want to know what he died from!"
At about this time, KK also remembers Chris saying something about some "unpleasantness" with Ben, and that Ben would have to explain that. Since Ben is well beyond explaining things, KK decides to hassle Chris some more about it.
"Hey, what was that about Ben you said earlier? The man just died in his sleep, and noone cares what killed him?" KK complains. His former partner in crime might not have been the nicest guy on the island, but KK would like to think that Ben would've spent at least a tiny effort to investigate KK's death if that had been the case. Aw, who's he try to kid? Ben wouldn't have spent a second thought on KK's demise, and KK's own concerns regarding Ben's cause of death has little to do with him being his former partner. It has everything to do with a certain mutant who looks like he offed Ben just to have an excuse to eat him, and this just *might* be enough to make KK quit freeloading and move to a safer location. Such as an abandoned building in Great Men for instance.
Moments pass as others do what needs be done in order to prepare themselves for the ordeal ahead - checking gear, sharpening implements of destruction, going through mental calming exercises, searching (with ultimate success) for an expensive digital camera/camcorder while trying desperately to remember that class in emergency trauma care from Med. School, finding something more appropriate than a garbage bag to wear, slurping down that last drop of Shiavit and painkillers, consulting with Romanian manufactured stuffed animals, juggling nervously, smoking a fag, scratching fleas (and being damned embarrassed to get caught at it to), or just swilling coffee and crullers. Only the sharpest of ears could possibly pick up the wet, ripping sound that might or might not have come from somewhere in the vicinity of the back alley.
Woofard watches this drama unfold with a degree of curiosity. A guys croaks here, a guy they knew, and it's no big deal to these guys. This is a pretty hard crew. And what the Hell is old sloppy Joe gonna do with the body there? Then, having very sharp ears, he gets an idea about what is going on back there. A wave of horror washes over him. He puts his paws over his ears and sings "LA LA LA! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! LA LA LA!" Which he continues until the sound ends, or someone gets annoyed and kicks him in the head.
Harvey gazes at the singing dog, whilst trying to block out the peculiar sounds from outside. He then starts to giggle. Occasionally he looks at his new cattle prod. After a little while he shakes his head and says, "Shall we go, then?" as if nothing untoward has occurred.
Chris picks up the trench coat that Ben had been wearing. Examining the trenchccoat, Chris finds that a) it seems to be made of some light ballistic weave, b) the effects of Ingar's saliva have made it nigh unto useless as anything more than a rather tattered blanket. Anything which might or might not have been in the pockets is now nothing but acidic slime, although a few bits and pieces of what was once likely a large amount of american currency can be found if he stirs enough. Chris dumps the wretched coat in the trash.
After five minutes or so, a slightly puffed-up Ingar comes trundling back into the Bowling Alley, gingerly stroking his jaw with one fingered appendage while dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief with the other. Said handkerchief looks more and more like a piece of asymmetrical lacework, woven by a coven of truly trippy witches. Ingar has a mellow smile, and absentmindedly mutters to no-one in particular "... and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
In two previous visits to the Parliment of Chris we have witnessed argument, debate, compromise, and submission. This time there will be none of that, for as we approach the assembly chamber we see that the doors are closed and nailed shut, a crude hand-painted sign hangs from the ornate doorknobs:
"Gone Fishin'"
Chris stares at the Akita. At first the eyes are seem vacant but there is something, something wrong moving around in there.
His stare takes in the whole group.
"Well, are we going to go kill the bastards!?"
"No, no. We will -help- them. But a little bit of force will probably be neccessary to achieve a proper therapeutic relationship" explains Ingar with divine calmness.
Chris fishes around in his kit bag, pulls out a small black box, strides up to Ingar. "Breath mint?"
Ingar looks down at Chris with childish delight. Damn scary child, but
still... "Yes, please. That is precisely what I need right now. How
very considerate of you." He reaches down with two huge fingers,
and manages to gently grab a single mint - mangling the box only slightly.
The mint, lamenting the shallowness and aromatic sinfulness of its previous
existence, is raised to the Maw. It gives a small, minty pulse of
spiritual anguish before it is cast into the Jaws of Hell. Those
not blessed (or cursed) with ability at aura-perception might still notice
that the mint, due to rather unusual chemical reactions, begins smoking
as it hurtles towards the gullet of Ingar.
"Operator? Can I have the number for Sir Arthur Compton's residence, please?"
The telephone rings once before being picked up. A pleasant woman's voice answers "Hello, Sir Arthur Compton's residence. Who may I say is calling?"
"I'm KK, and Sir Arthur Compton said he wanted me and my partner to show up at his party tomorrow. Problem is that my partner just died in his sleep, so I just wanted to check to see what I should do about it. If he wants me to do anything about it, that is."
"Please hold sir," says the voice. KK is then treated to two minutes of piano music before being reconnected.
"Good morning my boy," says Sir Arthur's voice from the other end, "I trust you are well?". He sounds as though he has recently awakened refreshed and invigorated from a sound night's sleep, and KK has a sudden image of the man, dressed in pajamas, sitting on a verandah overlooking immaculately manicured lawns, sipping orange juice as he speaks.
"I'm told that your disreputable friend has died in his sleep? How shocking!" Compton sounds faintly amused. "I terrible setback for you, I'm sure. I shall pray for his immortal soul which is undoubtedly even now receiving its well deserved reward for a lifetime of service. If you could just bring the body to the party, I am sure that we will find some way to make him - ah - entertaining as it were."
"Oh," says a disappointed KK. "That could be a problem. I think he got eaten by a mutant. I tried to tell him not to, but no one gives a shit about what I say, probably because I'm not rich."
Sir Arthur chuckles. "A shame, my boy, a terrible shame! Eaten by a mutant you say? Well, if that is the case perhaps you can induce the mutant to attend in your late partner's stead. It seems only fair after all."
"I could give it a try," KK agrees reluctantly, "but I don't think this mutant likes me very much. What should I tell him, that he can have Ben's share of the money? I'm not sure he'd go for that."
"Use your imagination, your wit, your instinctive animal cunning," replies Sir Arthur airily. "You seem like a resourceful and clever individual (for all that you hung out with that rather brutish hulk, now so sadly deceased). I am confident that you can find some means of putting this mutant at your disposal for the party. Give it the old 'college try' my boy! I am certain that you will find yourself a better person for having overcome any obstacles put in your path."
"Ehh, if you say so. I think we'll have to skimp a little on the 'formal wear' thing though, because he seems to be somewhat acidic. Not much left of any clothes he touches."
"Really?" replies Sir Arthur. "How remarkable. In any event I anticipate your success in this matter, and look forward to the company of both you and your carnivorous mutant companion."
"I wouldn't hold my breath, at least not until he's close enough to breathe on me. See you tomorrow then," KK finishes.
"Indeed," replies Sir Arthur.
The line goes dead.
"How far is this place?" asks Sam. "I dont want to walk around with this thing."
Ingar looks at Sam, still looking mellow and vaguely spaced out. He opens his mouth, and immediately the gentle giant look is replaced by the image of a drunken and disorderly allosaurus. From this maw issues the words: "What exactly is that -thing-?" The words are spoken in a calm and firm tone of voice, not ever previously associated with Ingar.
"Well, it's sort of a, um... it's a bomb." Sam has the grace to look somewhat sheepish.
Ingar's lips crawl back over his teeth, mercifully occluding them once more. He fixates Sam with his cocker-spaniel gaze for some long, odd, moments. Then he says, with sad reproach: "A bomb? You might hurt someone with that!"
Sam shudders as he thinks about the experience he had last night. It definitely had something to do with Ingar but maybe it was just a dream... a dream. "After seeing what they did to that little girl, I think someone needs to get hurt. Maybe this way, I won't have to get hurt in the process."
"Amen ta that," adds Woofard, "I'm getting tired of taking it in the shorts here everytime we turn around. I think Dada has the right idea. It's about time we start dishing a little out."1
Ingar looks blankly at the dog. A talking dog. There is no such thing as a talking dog - What kind of drugs were Ben on, anyway?
He turns back to Sam. "Sorry, I believe I lost you there, for a moment. I can certainly relate to your anger. It is OK to be upset. What was done to that girl was horrible, horrible." The ghost of a smile haunts his face, but then realizes what kind of dump it's in and leaves with a shudder. "Given the state of the island's police force, I believe that it is better that we handle this than them. But two wrongs does not make one right, and we should be judicious and restrained in our use of VIOLENCE." The last word falls from his maw like a flash-bang grenade. As it echoes away, Ingar stands shamefaced, "...yes, violence. Terribly sorry about that. Just goes to show my point. We must keep our emotions in check and not fall to the level of the abductors - unless-we-really-really-want-to" he finishes in a giddy, wheezing whisper. He then grins sheepishly and shrugs, hoping that most of the listeners did not catch his last comment, and that the rest might possibly construe it as a clever rhetorical trick. Most of all, he desperately tries to quiet down the internal cacophony.
Goodness looks over the various misfits in the bowling alley and rubs his hands gleefully together. "Beautiful," he murmurs. "Absa-bloody-lootly bee-you-tee-ful. With you lads at me back, I dinna see how we can fail - unless Dr. Forn gets a mite peckish on th' way over." He begins striding up and down like a general reviewing the troops.
The Doctor shrugs uncomfortably and then grins apologetically.
"Chris! All ready tae take on th' world eh? Harvey, have a care with yon mosterous prod or ye'll electrocute the lot of us! Sam, laddy, 'tis a real beaut ye've got there. Made her yerself didja? There's a good lad! Leo, all armed and ready are ye? Ready for a good bit o' Old Testament vengence?"
"Don't see this as vengance - See this as taking an interest in your local community!" injects Ingar cheerfully.
"Woofard, yer a fierce one, no doubt. I can tell it by the gleam in yer eye. And you, Mr. Garbage bag! There's children present. Go tae the lost 'n' found and have Chris get ye some clothes! We canna be hanging around all day waiting on yer fashion sense now can we? There's work tae be done!"
He stops before Ingar and looks the huge creature up and down. "Dr. Forn," he says quietly. "Tis a ferocious thing we're aboot this day. Tis nae guarantee that it will end without bloodshed. We all understand yer desire for peace, but the men - th'animals! - tha' worked over Victoria - there may be no reasoning with them. Are ye sure yer up tae this Dr. Forn? We'll nae think poorly of ye if ye decline tae accompany us. Yer a pacifist - we all know it - an' we all respect ye for it. As such today's work may be a bit difficult fer yer fragile heart tae take. If ye wish tae stay here with the bairns, no one will raise voice against ye."
Glancing over in the direction of KK he yells "Finish up yer bloody call n' get us a jitney r' a cab! Be quick aboot it!"
Ingar draws himself to his full height, standing proudly, then he realizes that his mouth is roughly two feet higher than Goodness's ear, and slouches immediately. "Your thoughtful concern is heartwarming, my friend. I appreciate it very much. However, I have come to realize that sometimes we must use a modicum of force to get through to those who are so disturbed that they cannot be subjected to normal, constructive dialogue. Whoever did this to Victoria need help, desperately, and I intend to get through to them, whatever it may take. Eventually, they will come to see the error of their ways." Ingar is smiling an almost saintly smile, his gaze passing over each comerade in turn, his big, blue eyes are calm, accepting and loving. He seems totally unaware that his enormous, unshapely hands are clenching rhythmically like a pair of mutant sea anemones.
Thompson stands dumbly and watches the proceedings; once again he wonders why he had to pick Al Amarja to run to as the large man leaves witht he corpse, and returns without it. As he is herded towards the lost and found, he begins going on about how this was a "last minute vacation" and it looked like a "new and interesting place."
"During my C&I interview I met the most MARVELOUSLY helpful young man, a Mr. Comma-john, he made the whole expierence wonderful and even gave me the names of some people on the island whom he felt would make my stay more interesting. Unfortunetly for me it seems I partook a bit much in one of the airport bars, and woke up... well, in the dumpster... naked..." Eventually other conversations penetrate his world view, and all he seems to be able to ask is: "Someone was hurt? you mean that... man?" as he picks up the tattereed remains of Ben's pants and steps behind a counter to put them on.
Harvey glances over at the naked man in a garbage bag. "This is a dangerous place, did all your money get stolen when you lost your clothes?"
"Indeed... as well as some items of... personal interest," acquiesces Thompson.
Continuing, Harvey adds "That man died peacefully in his sleep. He was not beaten to death by a man covered in chicken blood nor was he blown apart with shotguns. As far as I know his head did not disappear either. Frankly, if you're going to go his way seems better than most I've seen hereabouts."
Harvey is once again the proud wearer of blinding white sneakers, a beige mac and a harvard sweatshirt. He has a large cattle prod in one hand and a shoulder bag over the other arm, he briefly rummages in the bag "I have some spare clothes in here, what size do you take?" Harvey tucks the cattle prod under his elbow inadvertently wiggling it around as he examines the contents of his bag.
"Um... 29 waist, 32 inseam, size 10 shoe, any shirt in the large or medium category will probably fit..." Thompson is one of this long limbed overly skinny types. "It seems you certainly have had an... interesting time here, you're not all natives are you?"
The long limbed not at all skinny type, who has extreme trouble purchasing
clothes, not to mentioned shoes, is looking with poorly disguised curiosity
at Mr. Thompson. The good news are that it is not the oh-my-you-look-good-enough-to-eat
gaze which Ingar often assumes without thinking. The bad news is that it
is more of a oh-my-what-have-we-here-let's-dissect-it-and-put-it-on-formaldehyde
kind of gaze, one possessed only by people with rigorous scientific training
and not-so-rigorous reality training. Gaze still unwavering, he says "No.
I am no native to this island."
At about this time, Marda suddenly begins to look at Teddy with some suspicion. After considering the matter for a short while, she decides to consult a witness. She walks up to Leo and asks, "Mr. FunnyClown, when you were fixing him up, did you notice if Teddy was acting funny towards you or anything?"
Leo has remained silent for the last hour or so. It's not clear whether he's brooding over what was done to Victoria, or is in shock at Ben's death, although he did show some signs of activity while Ingar was disposing of the earthly remains -- he went to the lounge and turned on the television to AATV's broadcast of "Al Amarja Live". Loud.
He turns and looks carefully at Marda, remembering how the stuffed bear was repaired. "Uh..." To give himself a second to think, he reaches over to the TV set and turns the volume down a bit.
"Marda, hmm, Teddy was in very bad shape. He wasn't doing anything at all. Why, is he, uh, acting strange now? You want me to take a look at him?"
Teddy looks and feels perfectly normal, except that there seems to be quite a bit of new cloth in place of the old, moth eaten, drool stained, ratty cloth of the original bear.
Meanwhile, Goodness stares at KK with a look of exasperation. Then he turns to stare at Ingar, who is in turn staring at Thompson, who is in turn staring at Ingar. Leo is staring at Teddy, while Marda is staring at Leo. Flinging his arms up (and scattering ash from his cigarette) he turns to Chris.
"Chris! Since yon long limbed, not at all skinny type with extreme difficulty purchasing clothes is looking with purly disguised curiosity at Mr. Glad Bag over there, could you do us all the favor of gettin' th' phone away from Mr. Street Life there and getting us a ride! The bad guys are gettin' away man!"
Chris, who seemed to be somewhere else at that moment comes back and
stares at the raving caber chucker. "First some clothes for trash
boy, and then I will call Total Taxi." Chris disappears into his
office.
Chris returns with something that has been carefully wrapped in butcher paper. The paper has been turn as the contents were checked. "Uh.. Hey you, bin boy. This will fit you."
Inside is a race car driver's fire suit. A one piece fire resistant zip up coverall covered with ads. On the right chest is the name Mao embrodiered in green thread. Chris also tosses him a pair of worn and stained Thom McAnn Hushpuppies.
Thompson pauses for a moment, trying to juggle the objects then finally
clasp them to his chest and make his way towards the restrooms. "Thank
you sir... very kind..." he manages to get out before ducking into the
bathroom. A short while later, after the sounds of water are heard,
Thompson emerges in the racing suit, looking fairly sheepish, but free
of filth and dressed in the height of fashion, my friends. "Thank
you again..."
Chris has had some bad jitney related experiences, and for most them he was not even riding one. "If you are certain it will not explode, spin out of control, contain a drunken Thai kabbadi team, drive onto an airport runway, be taking lepers to a clinic, have a cargo of angry chickens, or come to a halt on my foot."
"Why don't I call?" volunteers Leo. "I figure we can fill the darn thing by ourselves."
He walks over to where KK is still holding on to the phone but staring at the Glad Man. "Uh, KK, mind if I use the phone?"
Leo pulls Egg Chen's crumpled brochure from a pocket (along with a bearing ball, two aki bags, small coins from half a dozen countries, and plenty of lint) and smoothes it down in order to read the number.
"Chen said he gave group rates," he comments. He dials and waits for an answer. At the same time, he examine a business card that had been tucked inside the brochure. It bears only a name, "Saul", and a pager number -- that was the "guide and procurer" they met yesterday morning in Sunken. An idea begins to percolate through Leo's tired brain.
He hears a click at the other end of the line. "Hello Mr. Chen?" he calls.
"Of COURSE this Egg Chen!" says the voice on the other end. "Who else you think answer Egg Chen's phone, Monique D'Aubainne? Or maybe Egg Chen's wife? Or maybe Egg Chen really rich and hire someone to answer phone, that what you think? Well, actually I suppose you right - might NOT have been Egg Chen. Still might not be Egg Chen. But, it IS Egg Chen, so yeah, this is Egg Chen, how can I help you?"
"Hi, Mr. Chen. I'm looking for a group rate for, let's see, ten people here. We have some errands to run. We're at..." He checks the address on a moldy coaster. "...Rick's Bowling Palace, formerly Bilge Bowl, 1313 Bilge Street in Flowers."
"OK, come on out and hop in!" says Egg Chen. The beat up tour bus pulls into the parking lot on cue.
Leo looks out the window, bewildered. "Wow! He must have been really close!" he comments. He looks around for Chris. "Hey, Chris!" he calls out. "You got a cell phone, by any chance? We could use it on this little errand. And..." He glances at poor little Victoria, now freed, cleaned up, and clothed in a pareo made from a spare blanket. He shakes his head, unsure what to do.
"At some point, we need to stop in Sunken for the luggage Sam, Marda and I left there. Ben's stuff was there as well. Maybe Kitty stopped by too... Nevermind." He shooes everyone towards the jitney. As he moves close to Goodness and Chris, which seem to be the most responsible adults in the lot (!), he whispers: "Any ideas about what to do with Victoria and Marda?"
After looking at the rocket suit that they gave bag-boy-the-new-guy to wear, Woofard is glad he has a nice fur coat. As soon as the door to the bowling alley is opened, Woofard shoulders his way through the crowd, carefully avoiding going anywhere near Mr. Monster, and hops into the bus. He favors Egg (OOC: Hey, I know this guy) with a friendly "Woof" and makes a beeline for a seat with an open window. He plops his furry butt into the seat and sticks his head out the window.
Sam barks up (no offense Woofard) after a long repose: "Why don't we drop Victoria off at a clinic and bring Marda with us..." Tata ponders for a moment. "After I blow this 'daycare center' to kingdom come, she can salvage for electrical parts." Shaking his greasy mop of infested with who knows what hair: "You should have all seen what she did to our last hotel room."
Leo shudders in remembrance. Maybe they are not in such a hurry to return to Cesar's Hotel after all.
Marda clings to Sam in agreement. "Teddy said I should go too, but it was weird the way he said it. Not like him at all. I wonder if he bumped his head when he got hurt. But I don't think we should send Victoria to the hospital. The Bad Men work at the hospital."
Sam looks at the pathetic creature attached himself. "Marda honey, I dont think we are talking about the hospital that we found you in. Is that what you were thinking of? We mean an everyday hospital. Or is there something else your off-the-chart-IQ-brain is thinking of? "
"I gotta go ta skool!" Victoria chimes in.
Tata agrees. "OK, let's take her with us. At the very least she can I.D. the remains before Ingar disposes of the evidence." He gives a lopsided 'Han Solo' grin.
Leo looks at Victoria, suddenly remembering his phone conversation. "Actually, Victoria, I called your school to let them know where you were and they said it was OK. The director wan't there but I talked to Mr. Norman Souster. Now, do you know your address? Can we take you home?" He looks at Victoria closely and with some anxiety, wondering what she does remember of her ordeal, and who the true culprits are.
Leo then looks at Marda and Teddy appraisingly. "How exactly did he sound to you?" he asks the little girl as they walk towards the jitney. "I mean, compared to usual?"
Marda shrugs. "I dunno. He just sounded different. More technical. He even called me doctor." She pronounces the last word in the tone in which most people use to say prostitute or maybe even lawyer or tax collector.
Leo looks around for Woofard, but the Akita seems to have taken a head start to claim dibs on the best seat in the jitney. "Doctor?" he repeats, in the tone in which most people use to say vampire or maybe even alien egg-laying queen or demon possession. "That's odd..."
Despite the Mediterranean climate of Al Amarja, Leo feels a shiver.
He climbs into the jitney, greeting Egg Chen on his way in. "Hi, Mr. Chen," he says politely. "Thank you for coming so quickly, that was pretty amazing! It looks like we have eight adults, plus two kids and a dog."
Samuel Dart bends down and picks up his load as the Jitney pulls into the parking lot. Trying to keep in the back of the crowd while everyone boards. "Wonder if this thing will survive a head-on," Sam mutters to himself as he carefully places the Class A explosive on the floor of the rickety van.
This earns Sam a horrified look as Leo freezes in his tracks. "What, is this unstable? Like nitro? I thought this would need, I don't know, a detonator or a fuse???"
The Rumanian moppet dutifully follows Tata into the Jitney, Teddy in hand as always. The mysterious, laconic Teddy...
Chris is more worried about the effects of an unstable jitney, than
an unstable bomb. He looks at Sam. "Please describe the explosive."
"What was that you said about Compton?" KK asks quickly. He wasn't paying too much attention to the newcomer, but he still caught the mentioning of that familiar name.
"Mr. Comma-John, the C&I agent you unerstand, he mentioned Sir Arthur to me...something about his throwing a party. It was also mentioned that some of my possessions might have made ther way to his house... though who knows how true that might be." Thompson shifts a little adjusting to the suitand brushes his hair out of his face. "You know him then?"
"We've done business. A moment ago I had him on the phone too, and we were discussing the party he's having tomorrow. I guess you could come there with me," KK suggests. Then he turns to Ingar and blurts out "Hey, you're invited too!"
Ingar grins timidly at KK. "Welll, that -is- very nice of you, but I do not believe that I would be quite comfortable around anybody of such an -infernal- persuasion, although I do of course strive to be tolerant and open-minded towards people of other faiths..." his words slip out over his jagged teeth like radiation-poisoned slugs over pre-historic corals.
"Can I come along to this party? Assuming we've resolved our current problem," asks Harvey, glancing meaningfully at Victoria as he adds the second part of his little speech. Jumping naively is one of Harvey's specialities.
Ingar winces at Harvey's question.
"I dunno," KK admits. "I didn't ask if I could bring others, but if it's a big party I guess you could slip in easily." Returning his attention to Ingar, KK goes on to try to persuade him to see things in another light. "What do you mean?" he asks the big mutant. "He's just as brainy as you are, I'm sure you'll get along just fine. Besides, you're the one who got rid of Ben, despite my protests! Sir Arthur said it was only fair that you filled in for him!" he argues, drawing strength from the fact that this line of reasoning comes from a man of considerable weight in the Al Amarjan society, and thus must be some pretty damn good reasoning. "And when I told him that Ben might not want to come, he said he be gravely disappointed if he didn't show up. Do you really want to gravely disappoint a man that is willing to see beyond your obvious differences and stretch out a hand in friendship?"
"Well, when you put it like that..." Ingar drawls, "but still I am not quite certain... Wait a minute, did you tell him that Ben, -might- not want to come. He has ceased to be, my good man! This I have personally verified - What did you tell Sir Compton of me, by the way? I'm not quite certain Harvey would enjoy one of Compton's parties, KK. How did you expect me to get Ben to show up - no, on second thought, don't answer that, please. I am not as much concerned with my differences with Sir Compton as our commonalities, never mind - Goodness, my dear friend, would you help me out here? I would really like to hear your opinion in this matter!" Ingar's scatterbrained monologue is not as much scary as unsettling, as his tone of voice has been rising in pitch as he speaks with greater and greater speed.
"Well," KK mumbles, "Ben didn't like Compton much, so when Compton invited us, he was kinda sleeping. So that's when I told Compton that Ben might not want to come to his party. So Ben was alive, you know? But you're right, Compton did expect him to show up, dead or alive." KK explains in a haphazard manner. "Anyway, if you hadn't ea-h... gotten rid of the body, we still could've sold it for $20,000 to whoever sent that priest gang after him," KK continues thoughtfully. "Think what that could've done for your favourite charity!"
"Don't you think it is a bit late for that? I volunteered for a job nobody else seemed to want," Ingar replies testily, trying to ignore KK's slip of the tongue. "Why would members of the clergy want his body anyway?"
"I believe that there are any number o' places where ye might be fitted with a tux fer the occasion," interjects Goodness. "I've heard that Compton throws lovely parties Engar - the sort o' thing yer mother would be proud tae hear ye attended. Now, could we please discuss this further on the bus en route tae the bad guys. Tha' concoction o' Sam's could blow at any moment and take our transportation with it!"
"The fact that going to Compton's party might make my mother proud is precisely the kind of thing that I find deeply, deeply troublesome, Buttery," replies Ingar in a dejected whine. Ingar heads on the bus, as previously described.
Goodness heads for the tour bus, and Harvey follows. Thompson looks around for a moment, his expression something akin to a bunny that has been hit about the head and shoulders several time, but after a few seconds he begins moving after Goodness and the others. Giving Ingar plenty of room.
"Well, I told you I wanted to know what he died from, and you just ran off with him like you're destroying evidence or something!" KK complains while following everyone else to the bus. "And they weren't normal priests, it was some kind of streetgang with priest collars who talked like mormons. Or something. Anyway, they had chains and stuff, and they meant business, said Ben was worth 20k and meant to kill him for it."
Leo has been half-listening to KK and Ingar's debate. "So Ben's value was pretty consistently set at 20K, uh?" he butts in. "Sounds like your Sir Arthur was going to buy him from you, then sell him back, dead or alive. You guys must have been life-long friends. Who's the Arthur guy anyway?"
"What do you mean "consistently"? There's only one person who wanted Ben dead or alive for 20K, and that's the person who sent the bounty hunters. Although, I did find a note with Ben's name and hotel room on, and it said $20,000 as well," KK goes on. "But you could be right, maybe Sir Arthur Compton was going to sell him to someone. How should I know? He's rich and he knows magic, and that's enough to make him a complete fucking mystery to me. I wasn't selling Ben when he was alive, but when he died, why not take advantage of that? Too bad I wasn't thinking faster than some people run with corpses over their shoulders," KK finishes with a dark look at Ingar.
"Surely I am mistaken," says Ingar indignantly "but it might seem to me that you were implying that -I- might have had a hand in Ben's death! You are the one going on about how his death might have earned you $20 000! Throwing accusations at those who acted out of higher motivation. Harvey was the one who suggested we get rid of the body with due alaricity. I simply complied with my friend's suggestion, performing an unsavoury task that no one else wanted, and which was deeply meaningful to me." As Ingar speaks, his gaze flickers everywhere, and his face twitches. "Anyway, my FRIENDS would not be accusing me of having ulterior motives, so certainly I am just misinterpreting what you say, FRIEND!" (the Voice is back, abeit at this time-space juncture it is but a shadow of its former horror). Ingar locks KK with a quizzical gaze and smiles with all his teeth. All those found in his face, anyway. At any rate, that is more teeth than he ought to have.
Seeing all those teeth at once, and hearing the Voice, KK decides that Ingar must be the kind of monster who bullies people into doing, or not doing, whatever he wants them to do, or not do. Kind of like a big, mutant and sanctimonious Ben. And while this would normally make KK keep a certain distance, say 50 feet, being on Al Amarja for a day has taught him that confrontation is often better than evasion. Especially when you're crammed into a rickety tour bus with no real space for evasive maneuvers. So much like the cornered rat that he is, he continues to say all the wrong things.
"I'm not your friend! As far as I know, you just killed my partner and ate him! I don't kill people! I don't even sell them out!" he yells in an angry and desperate voice.
Leo, who first blanched at the sound of The Voice, carefully gets up and walks up to the front of the jitney, ostensibly to talk to the driver. He looks a bit shaky. After a few words with Egg Chen regarding the destination, he returns to a different seat -- one as far from KK and Ingar as possible.
Chris just watches.
"Well, all right then!" sobs Ingar. "There is no need for all this hostility. I can sense a lot of fear in you, and it is probably just natural for someone like you to project your negative feelings onto a genetically challenged person such as myself. I refuse to even debate your absurd accusations further, as it will only get me all ready to - oh never mind. You should ask yourself why you are being so mean." Ingar sags down onto a seat, making the bus wobble slightly as he shifts his weight to one side. Feet outstreched, arms crossed, he gets ready to sulk.
Harvey comments, "Ingar has always seemed a very helpful, sensible man to me. I'm sure whatever he did with that body was the best option available under the circumstances. I can't speak for many but I'm confident that Ingar would no more kill someone or sell somebody out than I would."
"Oh, and he's quite right, it was my suggestion that he got rid of the body. I have no idea how he did it, but I must say he did it quickly and without fuss. I'm sure Ben would have approved."
Ingar smiles gratefully at the Texan and says: "Thank you for your support, Harvey. This really means a lot to me."
KK does much the same thing as Ingar, and while sulking, he thinks about why he's being so mean. Oh yeah, it's because someone just stomped all over his sandcastle, while claiming that "hey, it's just sand anyway, and that guy over there told me to, and I'm a little Nazi, so I just follow orders." But that line of reasoning wouldn't impress anyone, so KK travels deeper into his antagonistic mind, and hits paydirt.
"So," he says in a mellowed out, but still somewhat hostile tone, "you want to know what makes me so mean? I'll tell you, it's because I wanted to know what Ben died from, and I tried to tell you not to run off with his body, and you still did it. You didn't even listen to me. Do you know how angry people get when other people start messing with stuff in their lives and don't even listen to them? Well, now you know how angry I get!"
Ingar, being the kind of grotesque, intimidating, mentally unstable abomination who cares, replies whilst pouting "I recognize the need for self-efficacy in every human. I'm terribly sorry, but I really did not notice your request. But if you would be so kind as to state your wishes clearly in the future, I will try to be accommodating, to the extent warranted by someone having stated so clearly that they are not my friend."
"Well, you're not alone," KK states. "Noone listens to me. Chris over there said something was up with Ben during the night, but now that he's dead he just won't tell me what it was. And noone seems to want to know what killed Ben..." he adds, and with that he realises that a very valid reason for not asking any questions would be if you had all the answers. Maybe they all knew what happened to Ben during the night. Maybe KK is next in line. Yup, that seems more plausible than that the same bunch of goody two-shoes who pay medical bills for little lost girls would get rid of a dead acquaintance without taking care to find out what he died from or if he indeed had any next of kin. KK immediately quiets down and acts casual. As soon as they reach their destination, he'll be able to slink away with no questions asked.
"Wha..?" Chris is roused form some unpleasant thoughts by the mention of his name. "Oh. The Ben thing...he fucked off and hurt that little girl, I saw it lost control of myself and tried to kill him. He threw me into... into... into and anyway I was burned and my clothes were ruined," he says in a conversational tone. "Once he died, it just seemed not to be worth worrying about."
"What do you mean? What exactly did he do to her, and why did he do it? And what did he throw you into? A crematorium?" KK asks warily. Then he looks at Chris with disbelief. "Did you kill him?"
"He dropped the stretcher to the ground knowing the condition she was in. And no, I did not kill him."
"Huh," grunts KK in response. In his experience Chris looks awfully healthy for someone who tried to kill Ben and didn't get away with it, and why would Ben go to sleep in the same place as someone who previously tried to kill him? Not surprisingly, he takes what Chris says with a grain of salt and continues to silently bide his time.
Ingar reluctantly adds: "I also got quite upset about Ben's treatment of Victoria, and I got a bit out of line, I confess. I tried to keep Ben from hurting Chris, though. Eventually Doctor Bennett intervened, and her reasoned arguments got us all calmed down. However, a lot of us were not very well disposed towards Ben after this incident."
"Oh, so that's why you treated him the way you did," says an enlightened
KK. "Well, it's nice to know that you guys can hold a grudge even after
a person's dead. That comes real handy when you think of all the people
who die around here."
To Be Continued...