by TheTimeTrust, Grimm and Blackwulf
"Well, that was... interesting," said Dr. Henry Quantos as the former lord of the flies and of the rotten land exited stage left after a second encore.
"To say the least," Chance said. He looked over to Edulcore Cicciotto. "Ed, are you sure you're all right? You still seem a bit dazed."
"Just lost in thought," said the former Eurostar. "Actually, I still have that appointment in Paris tonight that I mentioned earlier. I'll be leaving soon. Anyone care to join me?"
"I'll go with you," said Chance after a short pause. "I need something to take my mind off of... recent events."
"We could take the Stormloader, I suppose," Dr. Quantos said. "I delivered it just this afternoon, and she's running fine."
Chance's face beamed with recognition. "I've flown the Stormloader from my timeline several times, so that shouldn't be a problem."
"Actually," began Edulcore, "I've recently found my own method of transportation. Ehy, prepare for your mind to be blown once more, Doc." He started laughing as he explained about his pet UFO and the circumstances that led to his attaining it.
"Sheesh," said Dr. Quantos after the explanation was done, "all this supernatural and pseudo-scientific phenomena is a bit hard to take all in one day: ghosts, alternate timelines, tesseract technology, instantaneous transportation, that Metatithenai-whatzit, and now flying saucers? I think I'll order another drink for the road, if you gentlemen don't mind."
"Listen, I've got to pick something up from the apartment," Chance said to Edulcore as he stood up in preparation to leave. "Why don't I meet you two at the location of this craft of yours in, say, twenty to thirty minutes?"
"Sure. I'll write down the instructions on how to get there," said Edulcore.
A few minutes later, Kristofer Schanz was stepping back into the apartment building.
Can't stand all this sitting around. I've got to get my mind off of Pete's death. I didn't want to burden the others with this, but I think there might be a chance to get Pete back. No way I'm going to tell the others, though. No sense in burdening them with any false hopes. And I couldn't stand sitting there watching her... with him. I know that's not my Shirley, but still... I need to get away from the rest of the group for a while. This Paris trip should be a good diversion.
"C'mon, Mick, sit down with me and Danny. Have a beer."
"O-okay..." Mick Harrison mumbled, still reeling from the fact that he had been singing with Grimm.
"You know Love Me Two Times?"
"Sure, I know all the Doors' stuff. Used to listen to that stuff all the time as a kid. Morrison's lyrics, combined with the music, took me out of my shitty life and into another place. But that was before I got into punk and all..."
The two sat down next to Danny Hearn. "Couple more, right here."
The stalk shot down with a couple more beers.
"So," Danny started. "How do you see without eyes?"
"I don't know. I just do."
"Why do they call you the Biker from Hell?"
Grimm was perplexed. "What? Who calls me that?"
"Uhh, Lance, T.C., Mick..."
Mick got a real sheepish look on his face as Grimm glanced over at him. "Mickeee..." Surprisingly, Grimm didn't seem mad at all.
"Are you really from Hell?" Danny asked.
"Heh, no, but sometimes I feel like my life is hell. Being this..." He gestured at himself. "...ain't all it's cracked up to be, ya know."
Danny and Mick noted the sarcasm.
"Just because I'm so pretty, it's not like I can have a normal life."
The three men began to laugh.
Suddenly, Blackwulf grabbed the chair next to Grimm and plopped down. "My friends! We are not being drinking enough! More beers for everybody!"
Blackwulf pointed to Mick and motioned for him to drink up. "Comrade, who are being your friends? And why be they not drinking? Please, drinks for friends of Comrade Greem are on me."
"Wulf, what did that lunatic mean by Harbringer?" Grimm asked.
"Is vampiric phrase meaning horror bringer," Blackwulf said as he looked at Grimm. "Could be meaning you. You are, after all, having skull-face would bring horror to many peoples."
Mick went pale at the mention of Grimm's face. "You are whom?" Blackwulf asked Mick.
"Just Mick. Nice to meet ya, I think." Mick asked, "And you?"
"I'm Blackwulf the Everchanging. I have begotten the title for the fact that I keep mutating."
"Let me guess: mutating as in the pleather Mohawk, or as in the purplish skin color?"
"I am having a Mohawk?" said Blackwulf, perplexed. "As I was saying, Greem, the horror bringer is that is scaring the shit out of them, and making them go much poopy. There are many legends in the vampire community that revolve around this Harbringer, as many legends as there are types of vampires."
Grimm, Mick, and Danny all looked intently at Blackwulf. "How the hell do you know so much about them, Wulf?" asked Grimm.
"Has been long time since we are having drinks together, and I am having much need for a drink. Streskavitanka!"
The barkeep uncoiled and set a steel flagon in front of Blackwulf. "Da! As I was saying, I am being hunter, and they are being prey. There has been many nights which we have not talked, and I have been learning much about them."
Blackwulf grabbed the La Perdita Times, the island's newspaper. "Some of these are being of FLESH." He showed them a short news story buried on page sixteen in the odd news section.
In a small Pennsylvania town, what would appear to be a mass grave-robbing has a more horrid reality. It would appear that the dead have risen from their graves.
"Some are being soul." Blackwulf took a sip of his drink. "Some are drinking blood. Some are stealing heat. But all are stealing your life."