Appetite for Destruction
The first thing Tyler planned to do when he arrived was to check the date and establish how long he has been absent. If he was ahead of the rest of the band, he would try to contact their friends here on the phone. Friends of Rudy's, he mused. Might as well spot the local drug-dealers, they'll be our hosts. If a few days had passed since he went into Dream, he would try Saul's mobile.
The transition back to the mundane was as easily accomplished as Tyler had suspected. Large portions of Australia remained in part in Dreams, but thanks to the invasion of the white man, many of those dreams were much closer to Beleth's side of things than anywhere else. Fortunately, that is the side from which Tyler emerged. With an accompanying riff of industrial Symphonic sound, Tyler stepped into the Corporeal Plane.
Behind him was a massive towering structure of some unnamed organization, churning out smoke into the evening air. He seemed to have stepped out of the shadow cast by the smoke stack from its own flames. An ore processing area of some kind.
A short walk away was an ice cream van, and further afield some shops at an intersection. He marched to the local shops and found a newspaper. Monday August 31st. He reset his watch to local time, 4pm. The last day of Winter. Tyler worked out that he had been gone for about 32 hours. Saul and the rest of the band were probably still on their flight, unless they canceled or delayed it.
He looked through the phone book and found a name he vaguely recalls Rudy mentioning, and rang it. The voice on the other end sounded as though it had just got out of bed. Which was probably accurate.
"Tyler?" pause. "THE Tyler? Hey, Cool, man. I got this call from Saul, sayin� you might show up. Where are ya? The airport? I'll come pick ya up. You're a day ahead o the other guys. Bummer about Luxembourg, man. What airline d'ju take anyow?"
Standing at the phone booth, Tyler felt a sudden rush of Sound, an arrhythmic thrash of Symphonic noise, like an abrupt band jam session gone horribly wrong. The echoes of it began immediately. Tyler was certain that it came from nearby, in the direction from which he had walked. Probably somewhere near where he had appeared into this world not five minutes ago. He could figure no more out from the sound than vague distance, and that it was a manifestation of some kind.
After a cautious glance around to see if anyone was observing him, Tyler remembered the phone in his hand. In a firm voice he interrupted the tired ramblings of his contact.
"Check this, mate. I'll be floatin�' somewhere 'round the shops near this mother of a factory with these huge stacks on it, y'know what I'm sayin�'?"
"You just get your shit together, man, and I'll see you when you get here."
"One more thing, mate. You haven't told me whether Rudy and the guys are on their way here. We've been out of touch - I caught a different plane."
"Uh..." said the voice at the other end helpfully. "Oh, uh... Yeah I think I know where you might be... Uh... Oh! They are coming in tomorrow night. Probably on the plane all ready. Yeah. Ok. See you when I find you, man."
Tyler hung up after a few more exchanges of pleasantries, and decided to retrace his steps cautiously, in the hope of finding the source of the second Sound.
Tyler realized suddenly that he has still the Orb of the Sun in hand... and tried to decide what to do with it. It was about the size of an extremely large apple, entirely of gold.
Backtracking along the road yielded a view of a couple of people in the shade of the smokestacks, speaking with the man in the ice cream van. He tried to remember if he had seen either of them before, but can not.
One was dressed in a tee-shirt, old leather jacket, spurred boots and ripped jeans, the former item showing a robot having just violated a woman, with the words "Appetite for Destruction" emblazoned on it. She was over six feet tall, ashen pale, surmounted by a shock of red hair with green highlights. About her waist was a bike chain with padlock, rusting.
The other was dressed in a black suit and sunglasses, looking as though he came straight out of a recent film. His ebony skin shone with sweat in the afternoon sun. His clean shaven features and crew cut could have been sculpted. Something about his attire demanded that he be carrying a firearm under his highly inappropriate suit jacket.
The tall woman did the talking, and the mismatched pair seem to be encountering some difficulty in obtaining the answers they desired from the lone ice cream vendor.
Finding no better place to put the Orb, Tyler stuffed it into one of the inside pockets on his overcoat. Even a brief glance at the inquisitive pair would suggest that they were not interested in single-serve choc dip ice creams, and the likelihood of a slick record industry type letting a metalhead groupie do the talking for him Was extremely out there. Tyler looked around the area, in an attempt to determine whether there were any inconspicuous places to listen in on the conversation (obviously out of sight of Mr. Whippy, too!).
Tyler found the area remarkably bare and exposed, but behind the van itself would probably make a good a hiding place as desired. Unfortunately, if he were discovered, then there would be no good place to hide in the area afterwards...
Tyler decided that his curiosity had served him well so far, and moved as quietly as possible to the other side of the ice-cream van. He listened to the questions, hoping that if the two strangers were having difficulty communicating, their voices may well be a little louder than the average conversation.
From the vantage point he found he could hear the voices quite well, if not see the expression of the faces.
The female voice sounded cracked like after a night on the binge, with an element of fingers down a chalkboard thrown in for good measure.
"Look, you slime. I am tired. I have traveled an awful long way, and I don't need any more of your bullshit. The guy or chick who came this way, they would have been carrying something shiny. Which way did they go? This is your last chance."
Pause.
A male voice, slow and deep. "A guy or a chick?"
Pause.
"Carryin' somethin'?"
Pause.
"Somethin' shiny?"
Pause.
Pause.
Pause.
Tyler noticed a large amount of rust spontaneously forming on the back of the ice-cream van, and the tires became worn right before his eyes. The lone bush by the roadside began to wither in the late afternoon sun.
Pause.
"Shit. I just asked a simple question you dumb mutherf*&%er. If you know what's good for you, you'll answer me." the female voice said. One of the tires blew out with a large bang to punctuate her words. The ice-cream van rocked back for a second.
Pause.
The male voice again. No change in intonation. "Came past 'ere, you reckon?"
Pause.
Pause.
Finally, "Dunno."
There was a low grunting sound from the woman, sounding kind of like the sort of noise a car makes when someone rips out the engine block. A different man's voice spoke. "This is pointless. The one we seek is probably long gone by now."
"Maybe. But that isn't gonna stop me killing this idiotic sonofabitch." said the woman's voice.
�Ya reckon?" asked the first man's voice. Sound of a shotgun being cocked.
Tyler frowned slightly as he realized the best course of action was that which his instincts have grown used to. Either way, the local yokel's life was essentially over. Unarmed, and faced with two armed opponents of seemingly diabolic nature, Tyler turned and walked away from the scene, heading for the pub. When the shotgun went off, he quickened his pace a bit until he reached whatever cover was available, whereupon he tried to relax himself and look as inconspicuous as a very tall man in a shabby greatcoat can. Perhaps acting like a tourist might make me feel better, he pondered.
Tyler heard the shotgun go off, not moments after he was out of earshot of the conversation. There was a Symphonic Disturbance, like four guys going mad at the end of a good set and wrecking their equipment, and Tyler was surprised to hear a second shotgun blast. A few curious faces poked out from the first of the stores into the evening light, and watched his rapid approach, but made no comment. When a second Disturbance rocked the air accompanied by yet another report from the shotgun, the faces became distracted, and one or two people even tried to move onto the road to see what they could see. More Sounds and Reverberations, none of them pleasant. It seems the hick was putting up something of a fight.
Tyler used the distraction to make good his escape. Finding a leather shop, he bought himself a hat, and went looking for the pub, one of the inevitable several in the outskirts of the town. He definitely did not look like a local, but managed to be relatively tourist like.
A little time passed. Out on the road, a car slowly drove past, and Tyler saw a faintly familiar face. The fellow on the phone. Come to pick him up. Just as he was about to stand and go to the car, into the bar walked the two figures. The clothing of the woman had several weapon hits and tears, but her skin underneath was smooth and woundless. Some blood stains were evident around the shotgun splatters, and the clothing had both entry and exit wounds. The man in the suit remained immaculate save for the sweat. They began to scan the bar.
Tyler remained seated at the bar, and orders another drink from the bartender, trying to start a conversation on a topic they might have in conversation. As he did so, he tried to get an idea of the layout of the bar, particularly where the exits were, whether the suspicious pair were blocking any of them, if there were any possible weapons (pool cues, darts, etc) nearby. He also took note of the number of patrons in the bar - nodding and raising his glass to one or two at random.
"So, do you like listening to music?" He tried to the bar man.
The bartender looks up, (and up, and up) into Tyler's eyes, and decided on none of the stupid answers that came to mind. "Some..." He said sensibly.
The two figures moved to the bar. They attracted some attention, which they did not seem to care too much about. Tyler noted the pool cues, the box of balls, and the various bottles and glasses about him in his potential weapons itinerary.
The barman, not to be fazed by the blood splattered appearance of the woman, continued to speak to Tyler. "I listen to country when the mood takes me. Bit of a Zeppelin fan otherwise. You?"
"Music is everything and everywhere, friend. When the mood takes me, I can listen to music made by a howling, distorted guitar - or the sounds of leaves falling from the trees. And if you listen very hard...", his voice trailed off as he noted the woman's approach, and he grabbed a handful of pretzels which he proceeded to eat noisily through the next conversation.
The tall woman moved to the barman. She was now but centimeters from Tyler's side, but did not seem to register his presence. She was pretty flushed and bothered.
"You." she said, pointing at the man behind the bar.
He raised an eyebrow in response.
"A tall person might have come past here half an hour ago. A stranger."
The bartender looked at the woman as if she was blind, which, for all of her inability to notice Tyler, she might just well have been. But, rather than looking in Tyler's direction, he shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. We get the odd stranger here abouts. Could you be more specific?"
She grunted in frustration. Tyler could barely overhear something that passed between her and the dark skinned man. He said "song cannot find him/her. the orb is hidden. we have lost our chance." and she replied, "It ain't over yet, sweetheart. Someone will know something."
Finally, she looked around the bar, and picked out one person at random. They were slouching down by the pool table. In two rapid steps she moved over to their side, and yanked the big man upright by their hand in one rapid motion. He grunted in pain.
Tyler had a chance to act if he wanted it... there was the door to the toilets, and another exit behind the bar, but the dark man was blocking the front way out...
Tyler kept munching on the pretzels, but stood and noisily moved the stool back to turn and walk away, trying to establish whether the interlopers were aware of him at all (Was this a Somebody Else's Problem Field or what?). He attempted to appear moderately drunk.
The figures were clearly unable to see Tyler at the moment, even as he noisily flipped his legs over the bar, and moves towards the 'Staff Only' door. The Bar keeper, confused as all hell, watched him out of the corner of his eye but did nothing to interfere. Pretty cool for a mortal.
The woman turned to the remainder of patrons in the bar, still holding the large biker up painfully by the arm. "Last chance, anyone. Has - Any - One - Seen - A - Tall - Stranger - In - The - Last - Half - Hour?" She slowed the words down and spokes them siblantly, sounding each syllable as though it were a weapon.
One or two patrons looked at Tyler, but not even this seemed to break whatever spell is protecting him. Finally the woman let out a low growl. "O.K."
She made a rapid motion and yanked the mans' arm out of joint with an uncomfortable popping noise. He screeched in pain, and fells to his knees, accompanied by the shrieking of the Symphony.
"I have just dislocated this man's arm. In a second I am going to break it." She snarled. "Anyone care to tell me what I need to know?"
A very large man decided to make his move, and ran at the woman from the back of the bar. She grinned / grimaced at him, and there was an acute Symphonic sound, like the wrenching of metal and the screeching of brakes. The man stopped mid step, and clutched at his chest, blue colour rising to his face in but a moment. He collapsed in front of the woman, arms wrapped tight about his torso.
The woman danced back, laughing, still holding the crippled arm of the first man, dragging him by it. "Fuck, it feels GOOD to cut loose like this." She whooped at the top of her lungs. "Man, I thank the Powers that Be for what ever they are doing." she looked at the dark skinned man and began to sing in a low voice. "The cat is away... the cat is away ..."
He did not answer her directly, merely giving a mild look of disgust at the man writhing on the floor. Almost in a whisper, he spoke. "Finish this, Kinezhiel."
An ashen pale man in a business suit, hiding by the side of the bar, pointed at Tyler, and almost screamed in his panic. "There! He's over there."
Tyler had an instant to duck through the door, or he could have stood where he was, to test his new found invisibility against this direct indicator.
Tyler flashed a quick embarrassed grin at the businessman, and then crouched, in an attempt to determine whether these two can see him now.
The woman did not look away from the man who spoke, still holding up the limp moaning man's form. The dark skinned man raised an eyebrow and followed the businessman�s pointing. Tyler crouches low, and does not see the man's eyes follow him, instead they remained intent upon the location where the other man pointed.
Tyler dove through the 'Staff Only' door, to the sound of the businessman�s cries of "He is right there, I tell you. Look!". The door swings shut behind him.
He found himself in a kitchen area, with sink, pots, pans and the like, as well as many bottles of alcohol, and two exits. One looked suspiciously like a toilet door, by the sink next to it, and the other appeared to head into the depths of the building.
Tyler decided to go further into the building. He took the opportunity to listen at the door, in order to ascertain whether there's anyone in there - it's probably the kitchens or something like that he reasoned.
The silence of the room beyond made the pretense of drunkenness unnecessary, but just in case this particular pub had decided to splurge for hi-tech and have video surveillance, Tyler staggered into the area beyond none the less. He found himself in a hallway with stairs to the second level of the building, and an opening toward a entrance area and large single door to the outside, with coloured glass windows obscuring the view of the beyond. Some rather unpleasant noises could be heard from behind the last passed doors. Snappings, and screamings, and curses, and above all, a terrible female cackling, sounding like electricity crackling in a broken light bulb.
Tyler looked about, and found several doorways, probably into private rooms, aside from the main one to the outside, and a desk with keys behind it in the reception area, but no one attending. There appeared to be no surveillance.
Tyler cautiously headed for main door, and (hopefully) left any pursuit behind. Once outside, he looked around for his lift, mindful of the fact that people from the bar might spot him, which was something he would prefer to avoid. As he waited, he tried to relax and stop feeling like a fugitive.
Carefully, Tyler exited the building. Down the road some way, he made out a vehicle moving slowly into a side road. There it went. His way out of this backwater.
From behind, in the bar, muffled by walls, faint unpleasant noises could be heard. Then, suddenly, from the front entrance into the bar area itself, the dark skinned man exited the building. Tyler almost dove for cover, then remembered his peculiar invisibility. Deciding on nonchalance, he walked down towards the direction his ride took.
The car turned around and exited the side street, and came slowly towards Tyler. Finally the driver made him out. With a big 'hello' wave, it screeched over to the sidewalk, and the passenger door flew open. "Hey, mate, where are you bags?" said the voice from within.
The dark skinned man in the suit was looking in the direction of the car and its driver, brow furrowed, eyes intense. He was about twenty five meters away. Finally, he made a decision, and started to walk towards the vehicle.
Tyler took one look at the dark man, and realizes the potential for danger of the situation. Rather than getting in the car, he stood a short distance away from the open door, and bent down to look eye-to-eye with the driver.
In a low yet commanding voice he addressed the driver, using short phrases to make sure the guy understood.
"Close the door, and just fuckin' drive! I'll be on the roof. That guy's a fed - We gotta blow this joint, now! No fuckin' questions, OK?"
The guy blinked several times, and when he heard the word 'fed' becomes /real/ attentive. He was cool enough to not even nod, as he leaned over, grabbed the door, yanked it shut, and hit the accelerator. Tyler took the second's opportunity this gave him to leap up onto the roof and grab on. The momentum of the car forced him back into an almost lying position, hands gripping above the front windows and feet dangling over the back windscreen. Fortunately, even his great size did not shift the car too much out of kilter as it headed off.
Tyler risked a backwards glance from his spider-like vantage point. The black man was staring at the car with an intent expression, but appeared to hesitate long enough. A few seconds later, the car rounded a corner, and Tyler was forced to hang on for dear life. The driver was not slowing. It appeared that the concept of the federal police had him utterly terrified. Possible more than if he knew the real truth, in fact.
Tyler hung on, barely, as the car continued to accelerate, long gone from the proximity of the pub, or the factory, or the celestials after him.
Next Page
Story Index
General Index