Damn, this feels good! thinks Woofard as the wind blows into his face. Now I get it. He hears some sort of commotion from inside the bus, and pulls his head in. Mr Monster, and the Dimestore Thug are going at it. Hell it looks like they are getting ready to throw down. Woofard decides to watch and see.
Sam yells up to the front "HEY EGG FOO CHUM, ARE WE THERE YET?" The way the guy is driving, Sam begins to agree with the smart alec who said that the rickety jitney is scarier than the bomb.
"Yes," replies Egg Chen, "You jump out into traffic now. Egg Chen not want to stop because he is laughing too hard at the funny joke you made about his name." He continues to weave expertly through traffic.
Woofard has to actively work at not breaking out into loud laughter at this. It had been so long since he had felt happy enough to laugh. Probably not since knocking back that cranked up beer, while he and Marda, and that other little girl were playing in the park. Of course then, like now, he couldn't afford to laugh. Not while playing the good doggie. Christ, this is getting old. He starts to feel dark again, but then he recalld what the old chinese guy said, and smiles an open mouthed doggie smile once more.
Ingar and KK fall into sullen silence, staring at one another. Woofard dangles his tongue out and lets his ears flap in the breeze. Goodness seems positively ebulant over the prospect of impending action, and Sam seems pretty much the same. Marda watches the scenery go by and stares at Teddy every once in awhile. Sam watches the scenery go by and tries desperately not to wince every time the tour bus hits a bump. Leo does magic tricks to keep Victoria occupied. Chris fidgets, and occasionally draws out a large knife, gives it a once over with a whetstone, then puts it away. Harvey and Thompson share a surprisingly empathetic glance that clearly and concisely communicates the thought "what the hell are we doing with these lunatics?"
Egg Chen just drives.
As time goes by the traffic thins, the buildings become more decrepit, and the neighborhood goes from bad to worse to worst to even worse than you could possibly have imagined. Though the architecture shows that the area was once prosperous, it has fallen on times hard enough to break it into a million pieces. Junked cars line the streets. In some places entire city blocks have burned, or buildings have collapsed and thrown piles of rubble into the streets. Trashcan fires seem to be common, and it is easy to spot individuals, or even groups cooking over open fires, or washing their clothes in the scum covered water of a rain-barrel. There is little foot traffic out in the open - like roaches, most of the inhabitants of the area shun the light of day.
Chen pulls the vehicle to a stop in the street, and the group gets its first good look at the Sunshine Creche and Day School.
At some point in the past - perhaps 5-10 years ago, loving hands made an effort to renovate the building where the Sunshine Creche and Day School is housed. In what was undoubtedly touted as a very successful neighborhood improvement project, the building was cleaned, and all four floors were painted with colorful murals of animals, happy children, stars, and a variety of other appropriate subject matter. Traces of this painting can still be observed around the upper two floors, where the original art has not been completely defaced and covered with a bewildering variety of graffiti. All of the ground floor windows have been completely boarded up, and the windows on the other floors sport wire meshing. A few have been broken out and replaced with plastic tarps. A sign, freshly painted and already somewhat defaced, hangs over the front door, announcing the name of the business within.
In front of the building a thin, filthy looking individual in a leather jacket and jeans is painting a pentagram on the front wall with spray paint.
"Skool!" squeals Victoria, pointing.
"What kind of school inspectors do they have on this island?" asks Harvey, fearing he already knows the answer all too well. "We should close this place down, we should check how many other children they have in there too." Harvey steps out the bus and walks over to the individual in the leathers, obviously intent on talking to him.
Woofard stares at the place in an odd combination of disgust and horror. He hops from his seat, and goes over to where Sam is seated. "Christ, what a dump." He says quietly, "Why don't ya just toss the bomb at it from here. That way we don't even have ta get outta the bus. I'm afraid I might get rabies just going out there."
Sam double takes on Woofard, still a little unnerved at a talking dog. "Yeah, I would but us fashion conscious guys," looking over at Harvey, "are concerned for the other little kids that may be trapped in there. Let's clear them out if we can, then blow the place and any unconscious skum that we happen to leave behind."
Tata jumps out of the van, sets his load down and goes in search of a 2X4 about 3' long and a few choice 10# nails at one end (or the damage dealing equivalent). There are several nailed over windows of an abandoned building across the street. Sam manages to yank one out. It has a few more nails in it, and they were rather larger than he was anticipating (plus, they are on both ends) but by laying the 2x4 down and stomping on one end, he manages to flatten the nails so they will not imperil his grip - much.
As Harvey wanders over to the leather clad individual outside the 'skool' he remembers that he is still carrying a large electric cattle prod. He shifts it uneasily not quite sure how to make it look unthreatening.
Ingar lurches out and walks hurriedly over to Harvey, beaming a friendly smile at the amateur artist. He has found a smile to be very disarming in such situations. Certainly Harvey finds Ingar's comforting presence reassuring. Ingar always seems such a soothing companion to have around.
Thompson pauses as the jitney unloads then gets out, straightens his racedriver outfit, and hurries after Ingar and Harvey; when danger is present, stick with the large scary looking man.
At their approach, the spray painting figure turns. Seen up close he appears to be a young man of about 16. He is thin and dirty, and looks unhealthy, both in a "haven't had enough to eat" sort of way, and in a "have some sort of chronic medical condition" sort of way (Harvey would need a more thorough examination to diagnose, but the guy most certainly looks unwell). He glances at the cattle prod in Harvey's hands and his eyes narrow. He reaches into his jacket and begins pulling out a length of bicycle chain.
He glances at Ingar and his eyes widen. The bicycle chain goes back inside the jacket followed by the spray paint can. He fidgets a bit from one foot to the other. "FUCK you," he says to the approaching pair, in what is obviously meant to be a threatening tone of voice, but which rather falls flat.
"You really would?" Ingar asks in an incredulous but not displeased tone. He keeps smiling amiably.
"Keep the fuck away from me you ugly mutant freak!" yells the youngster, attempting to edge away. "I'm one of the Glorious Lords, and Satan will kick your ass if you mess with me!" Despite his rather challenging words, he is clearly seeking to depart from the current confrontation, but can't quite bring himself to run because it isn't "macho".
Thompson demeanor darkens considerably. "You people ... you fucking fools." Thompson rushes the punk and enters combat, charging from behind Ingar and Co. Harvey prods the youngster gently with the electric cattle prod. The live end.
"WhatheFUCK!" screams the scummy teen, dodging out of the way of Harvey's prod. "Are you fucking CRAZY?" He attempts to turn and flee, but before he can get far Thompson is upon him. swinging wildly. He connects with a solid blow to the left shoulder. "OW! MAY SATAN CHEW YOUR BALLS OFF!" wails the assaulted thug.
"YOU FUCKING PEOPLE RUINED MY LIFE! I'LL SHOW YOU A DARK LORD!" Thompson continues to beat on the youth.
"SATAN WILL EAT YOUR SOUL LIKE A DORITO!" the thug screams back, still
trying to get clear. He manages to break free of the crowd, but Thompson
follows him, still swinging wildly, though with no effect other than to
encourage further flight.
"You people crazy! You are all gonna get killed if you stay here!" says Egg Chen, but he shows no sign of leaving. He doesn't ask for more money either.
Finally, Leo gets off the bus and looks at the welcome Harvey and Ingar are receiving from the graffiti artist. "Might be a good idea to check the other doors to this place," he comments in a low voice to whoever is in range to hear. "And not blowing up the school but just the bastards who... the bastards."
He starts heading around the side of the creche, silently hoping someone will accompany him since this area doesn't seem healthy for lone Burger.
"But thas my skool!" says Victoria. I gotta go ta skool! Alla my friens are in there. Thas where Win will know whereta find me!"
Marda stares at Victoria in a total state of disbelief. After consulting with Teddy in an extremely confused state, she turns back to her fellow moppet and asks, "THIS is the place that you had to go to? WHY?"
"Iss where I gota skool!" responds Victoria happily, seemingly having forgotten her injuries (and the fact that she isn't wearing pants) for the moment. "Iss where Miz Azwari an' Mister Gold an' Miz Smiff an' Jonny he dosn' like ta be called Mister Damien an Sally and Khadija an' Gien an' Iruka an' Lalita an' Bahiti an' Faith are!" Now that the adults are out of the way Victoria makes a break for the door of the school, dodging around the grown-ups and moving as fast as her little legs can carry her.
Woofard, who had gotten out of the bus earlier, was watching Mr Monster and Co. intimidate the punk. Man, this place would make a crack-house look like the Taj Mahal. He looks around carefully, keeping an eye out for baboons. That's when he notices the little girl making for the door of the trashed out dump she called a skool. It would take hardly any effort at all for him to flatten her, and hold her down, but he decides he wants a look inside the dump. He falls in step beside the small girl, and goes with her to the door of the dump.
Marda surreptitiously follows Victoria and Woofard towards the school. After the former's glowing description, she has to get a view of the paradise for herself. She pauses to glower at Harvey when she sees him use the cattle prod before continuing on her way, however. The memories of such implements are far too recent for Marda to shrug off.
Victoria, Marda, Teddy, and Woofard gallumph towards the front door of the building - the very picture of two kids and a dog having fun (except for the fact that Victoria isn't wearing any pants, and has visible bruises on her face, and cigarette burns on her arms and legs). Victoria takes the lead, running up to the door and pressing a doorbell placed at child height. "They keep the door locked so the bad people don't come in," she says to Marda.
Marda shudders a little. Locks are good to keep bad people out, but they are also very effective in keeping people IN.
Just as long as they bad dogs can come in, thinks Woofard, as he stands there with the girls waiting to see what happens. He is still amused with the sight he had, as they approached the building, of ole Harvey going Tanya Harding with the zap stick up-side that greasy little punk.
That also causes him to wonder... one of his associates is a giant monster, another attacked that thug with a cattle prod and little in the way of obvious provocation, Sam is packing an efficient looking pipe bomb, another guy is some bum that crawled out of a dumpster, and when one of their number died -- they got rid of the body. Are these really the good guys? Is this really the outfit he should be hanging with? That is something he'd have to think about... later. Now he needs to concentrate. He has a definite feeling things are gonna get weirder before they get better.
Leo looks up and around at the disaster area. "Yeah, pretty bad," he murmurs. "I guess that's why these creeps think they can get away with what they did. The guy I spoke to on the phone may be on to us, and I'm afraid he might grab hostages." His fists clench reflexively. He heads down the alley/driveway separating the 'skool' from the neighbouring building, looking for side doors and fire escapes from which creeps might exit, stage left.
The building abuts its next door neighbor on the left, but there is a narrow alleyway on the right. Leo and Chris pause at the entrance to take in its gloomy depths. The smell wafting from the interior is thick enough to cut with a machete. It is obvious that garbage is not taken out here in the expectation that it will be hauled away, but rather simply to get it out of the way until it can rot. The alleyway is all but blocked with bloated trash bags, old boxes, broken bottles, and other loose detritus - getting through it would be possible, but difficult, and would be a veritable adventure of hepatitis B possibilities. The easiest way to get through would be to simply start hauling stuff out and clearing a path, but it should (just barely) be possible to scramble over, around, and through the heaped trash.
The interior of the alley is dark, unlit, and gloomy. There is an occasional rustling noise from inside the trash, but nothing is seen to be moving in there. From high above, Leo and Chris catch the faint, incongruous sound of a group of children laughing.
The building does not appear to have a schoolyard, though it is possible that there is one in back (wherever the alley leads). After Leo and Chris look hard, they can find the remains of where a fire escape used to attach to the front of the building, back when it was a tenement, but it has long since been removed by either a) people who wanted to sell it for scrap metal, or b) people more worried about what might get in than in the possibility of getting out.
Leo looks up. Laughter seems like a good sign, anyway. "Doesn't look like anyone will be running out this way," he comments to Chris, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the mound of trash, "at least not without we hear them. And whatever's going on here, the kids don't sound terrified yet. I guess they haven't seem Sam's outfit."
Mr. Dart returns from his expedition with two chunks of 2X4 in his hands. He tosses one down beside his homemade pyrotechnic and uses his free arm to move the device closer to the alley. As he stands up he says, "Hey, there's an extra attitude adjuster here if anybody wants one."
About this time he catches the last phrase of Leo's off-handed comment on his outfit. Tata looks blankly at Leo for a few moments and says, "Kids know how to appreciate fashion. Ever see a five year old dress himself?"
Leo can't help but grin. "Um, yeah, Sam, I think I have... They don't usually have a tie this magnificent, though." Then he becomes serious again. "Look, Chris and I heard a bunch of children laughing upstairs. Don't do anything dangerous yet, OK?" He glances significantly at the home-made bomb. "Let's find the creeps first. It looks like we need to use the front door after all."
Chris barks out "LOL, LMAO!" There is still that distracted look in his eyes. "Suprise is gone, let's just go through the front door...and talk, I mean that...talk to the people inside before doing anything we might regret." Just then he sees the doctor prod the punk with the punk prod. "Or not."
Leo stares at the same scene. "What did he say he was, a plastic surgeon?" he asks Chris, bewildered. "Not a cop, or a postal worker, right?"
Chris puts his pinkies in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can. "Cut that shit out, buddy. Sure he's a scum punk and all but we need to talk to the people inside and busting up their help is not going to HELP us. Dig? I think we may be dealing with two groups of people here." Chris gestures at the unlucky junior Satanist, "This guy is not wearing a mask; and, despite his philosophy, does not seem to be the type of morally deadend creature that could torture and rape a child." He looks at the scum, "Right?"
Ingar was quietly pondering whether he went a little over the edge in last night's therapy, as the Complete Al-Amarjan De-Anxietized Bare-Bottom Girl seems a bit too eager to go back where Leo has indicated that the Bad Men may be. This kept him from noticing Harvey's adaption to local culture in time to do anything about it. He stared with concern at the resulting hostilities.
Harvey suddenly realises just what the hell it is he is doing and shouts to Thompson: "Stop, this isn't the answer, I don't know what the fuck came over me, he's just a kid for chrissake, let him go." He then gazes in dumbfoundment at the cattle prod wondering how he got this low this quickly.
Ingar nods agreement with Harvey and Chris, and steps towards towards Thompson, trying to pull him off the youthful delinquent. "Violence begets violence" he says in a soothing voice, while trying not to let the invocations of the leather-fetischist, and the cacophony they set of in the vast halls and corridors of his consciousness, get to him. Despite his efforts, a nervous tick starts beneath his eye.
Thompson is fairly oblivious to Ingar's efforts and as such is easily picked off the youth. His scrawny body hangs from the large mans hands and his eyes continue to dart around as he shakes a bit.
Once freed of the prospect of immediate assault, the young thug sprints off down the street. He stops a good block away just long enough to yell "AVAN BLOODLORD WILL FEAST UPON YOUR BEATING HEARTS! THE GLORIOUS LORDS WILL DRINK YOUR BLOOD!" and then resumes his headlong flight.
Ingar hoarsely shouts "Have a nice day!" at the retreating thug, and
carefully sets down Thompson. "You must try to remain calm even in face
of adversity and provocation" he admonishes him, shaking his head slowly.
"THE GREAT MEN BARRIO: Great Men isn't too bad, as long as you can avoid the Satanists. Most of the other inhabitants are too derelict to pose any kind of threat.
While in Great Men, be sure to visit -
Betty's Health Center - offers $5.00 a pint for blood plasma,
no limit on donations per week.
Found Hope - Great Men's premier employment agency
The D'Aubainne Museum of Modern Life - a testament to the
varied accomplishments of the human mind and spirit.
The Winds of Change - a casino extrordinaire!
Rooms for Men - affordable housing
The Estate of Sir Arthur Compton - by appointment only."
"Oh, cool," KK mumbles to himself. So this is where the wizard hangs out. Must be some really tight security around his tower, or maybe just a really sturdy door.
Meanwhile he keeps his eyes on the other unfortunate punk, the one who's about to receive a crash course in the psychology of intimidation. The unfortunate punk seems to have learned that lesson long ago, as he is already attempting escape. And speaking of escapre, Victoria is making hers.
KK is very much in favour of people being left to pursue their own happiness, and especially so when it means less work for him. So he just smiles and watches as Victoria makes a run for it, wishing her the best of luck. But he also realises that someone will probably restrain her and tell her that they know what's best for her. That's society for ya!
KK slowly walks up to the door, glancing at either side to make sure that no one is going to successfully land a blow on him. He also puts the tourist brochure away, knowing fully well that it's an invitation to trouble waving something like that around in this neighborhood. When he reaches the door, he turns to the dog and his kids, and suggests that "Maybe I should act like the responsible adult here? Explaining what happened, without getting violent, and so on". He emphazises his reasonable attitude by gesturing with hands that are completely void of any kind of weapons.
Marda nods assent. Sometimes adults have trouble dealing with children as equals. On the other hand, she'd have much better access to the place if it seemed that she belonged there, and 'skool' seems to be a kind of place where children belong more than grownups. She doesn't know about policy regarding quadrupeds, however. Or for that matter dress codes. "Victoria, are they gonna have a problem with you not wearing pants?"
Victoria glances down at her pantless personage, then abruptly sits her fanny on the grimy steps and tries to cover up. She bursts into sudden tears. "I'm gonna get in trouble!" she wails.
Ingar the Nordic ogre turns to the crying Victoria, saying: "There, there, Victoria, everything will be all right. We will have a talk with the people working at your school, and sort everything out." His tone is mellow, but the overall impression is harmed by several nervous twitches. Victoria seems dubious, and continues to cry.
Before Ingar reaches the group in front of the door, KK discreetly removes himself from said group. No need to stand within an arm's reach, and those are long arms we're talking about. In fact, now that the other grown-ups got their act together, KK doesn't think they'll need him to get in the middle of things. So he puts his original plan into motion and wanders off in the opposite direction of the fleeing satanist. There must be some kind of hardware store in the area, and maybe he'll find. Compton's place so he'll know where the party will be at.
Marda looks around among the litter strewn countryside and finally stumbles across some raggedy newspaper. Handing the pile to Victoria, she instructs, "Here, you can use this as a skirt until someone goes into town and gets you a real one."
Sam see's Marda's attempts at helping the little girl cover up and is plagued by thoughts of the little Romanian in the same situation. He beats his hand against his head trying to dislodge the disturbing thoughts.
Ingar looks at Sam and promptly copies his method. Ah, gratifying violence, if ever so low-key and idiocentric. His twitches die down.
Tata walks up to the little hacker and gives her the blanket that his 'homemade device' was previously wrapped in. "Here honey, that is a nice thing your doing for the little abused girl. Maybe we'll find more clothes inside... Oh, by the way, can you ask her to describe the person who did these bad things to her and if this happens to the other kids that we hear upstairs?"
Sam walks over to the rapidly diminishing crowd and says "I dont want to bethe Timothy Mcveigh of Al Amarja. Let's get those kids out of there if we can. Why don't we all pitch together and clean out the alley? Then we can see if there is another entrance."
"Why don't we simply enter by the front door?" asks Ingar.
"Well," says Sam trying to not make the obvious sound 'too obvious', "Well, because they are not answering the door, that's why. And since you all have been making so much stinkin racket, I dont doubt they are expecting us to come right through the front door. Comprende, amigo?" Mr Dart give the Scandinavian nightmare his cheesiest grin.
Ingar gives Sam a nice grin in return. Nice, provided that you enjoy watching sleekly asymmetrically ivories perfect for mauling, tearing and cutting flesh, bared earnestly: "No, I do not quite comprehend. Removing all the trash in the alley would not be more time-consuming than negotiating passage through the front door, nor would it in any way lead the people inside to suspect that we might intend to pass through such an entrance as may be rendered accessible after clearing out said alley? I suppose you may very well be right, but at this space-time juncture I am not quite able to follow your reasoning. Doubtlessly I am missing something here. Could you elaborate?" As Ingar's mellow baritone sounds out, the translucent green film on his teeth bubbles slightly.
Sams decides not to elaborate after getting a better look at Ingar. He turns away and promptly moves toward the front door and checks to see if it is open. The front door is not, in fact, open.
"Ring th' bell again," says Victoria between sniffles, "sometimes they don't hear the first time." She shows no inclination to rise, and in fact is starting to exhibit "tired child" behavior.
Chris walks up to the door, looks down at Victoria. "Hey! You don't have any pants! What the Hell, didn't somebody get her some pants?!" He takes off his black pullover. "Put this on it will reach to your knees." He then turns and bangs on the door. He is left with a T-shirt from 'The Hard Luck Cafe' N'D'Jamena. Their motto "Only have one dollar? No problem! Only have one bullet? Big problem!" The wording wraps around a picture of a Muammar Qadiffy who is hanging form a gibbet by an Chadian flag.
Before anyone else can ring the bell, the door opens and a young woman, slightly built and athletic, wearing a conservative business outfit that, while not particularly expensive, seems way too much for a place like this, opens the door.
"Can I....?" her eyes travel down to Victoria and her question gets no further. She looks up at the unlikely ensemble accompanying the little girl, then locks eyes with Leo. One eyebrow goes up slightly.
"Bonjour, M. Barbeau. Ca va bien?" [Hello, Mr. Barbeau.
How are you?]
To Be Continued...