New Metropolis
Gotta be said, being accidentally sucked through some bloody weird time portal job at some lesbo party and ending up in a new city in the early morning and almost bursting into flames has got to be one of the weirdest evenings out I've had. And I'm counting the night with the shrimp and the frisky barmaid with a limp.
My first thoughts were not so much "where the hell am I?" but "argh, shit, sun!" I threw my duster over my head and ran, as I used to say when I was a kid, like billy-oh. Luckily there were some public toilets in this park. I had to spend the whole day in there, which meant I got tipped three times (do I look like a sodding attendant?) and got propositioned a few more times than that. Alright, mates, I understand that I could pass for queer, but it's not really up my alley, so to speak.
Once night fell I headed out into wherever the hell I was to work out what was sodding well going on. To cut a long story short, it seemed I was in New Metropolis. Some fancy city I hadn't got round to visiting, seeing's how it was all new and fancified. Great. Didn't look like the kind of place I'd enjoy. Reminded me a bit of LA - all shiny shiny. I like a town with a bit of history to it. Still, there was something about it. A touch of the supernatural. That was brought home to me when I ended up in front of some statue of a massive guy in tight underwear. Well, I'd figured this park was a place for cruising, but I didn't reckon they'd commemorate it.
Then I realised who it was. Superman. What the bloody hell? I'd seen the films, o'course, but this was saying the caped crusader had actually lived.
I'd got a feeling I wasn't in Kansas any more, Toto.
So, fair enough. I was in some not-quite-my-world place. Didn't look so bad to me. And I'd been meaning to get away from the Scoobies for ages. Dunno what had kept me there so long. The shame of having this chip in my head which stopped me doing my natural thing. Killing and that.
As I was musing on this, a bloke came up to me and waved a knife in my face. He was trying to mug me. That was the most stupid thing I had ever experienced. I was so irritated, I punched him in the face, despite the inevitable headache.
Which didn't happen. I tried it again. Mashed his face into a bloody pulp, and he was crying and begging after a couple of minutes of that. Bloody brilliant. But one test remained.
I let my face change into game face and bit down on his neck. Not a twinge of a migraine. And I'm telling you, that sweaty, greasy bloke was the best meal I'd had in months.
I don't know what exactly I've got myself into here, but I'm telling you - it's a damn sight better than where I came from. Cheerfully I made my way into a scuzzy looking bar. I slammed a twenty onto the counter.
"I'll have as much whisky as that can buy," I said to the bartender. He looked at me for a minute, then took one of the bottles off the shelf and handed it to me. Now that's the sort of bar I like. I tasted it. Tasted like alcoholic sandpaper - which was better than I expected for the price.
I settled in for a good session of drinking. Then maybe later I'd go out and kill some more. That sounded like a nice night.
My first thoughts were not so much "where the hell am I?" but "argh, shit, sun!" I threw my duster over my head and ran, as I used to say when I was a kid, like billy-oh. Luckily there were some public toilets in this park. I had to spend the whole day in there, which meant I got tipped three times (do I look like a sodding attendant?) and got propositioned a few more times than that. Alright, mates, I understand that I could pass for queer, but it's not really up my alley, so to speak.
Once night fell I headed out into wherever the hell I was to work out what was sodding well going on. To cut a long story short, it seemed I was in New Metropolis. Some fancy city I hadn't got round to visiting, seeing's how it was all new and fancified. Great. Didn't look like the kind of place I'd enjoy. Reminded me a bit of LA - all shiny shiny. I like a town with a bit of history to it. Still, there was something about it. A touch of the supernatural. That was brought home to me when I ended up in front of some statue of a massive guy in tight underwear. Well, I'd figured this park was a place for cruising, but I didn't reckon they'd commemorate it.
Then I realised who it was. Superman. What the bloody hell? I'd seen the films, o'course, but this was saying the caped crusader had actually lived.
I'd got a feeling I wasn't in Kansas any more, Toto.
So, fair enough. I was in some not-quite-my-world place. Didn't look so bad to me. And I'd been meaning to get away from the Scoobies for ages. Dunno what had kept me there so long. The shame of having this chip in my head which stopped me doing my natural thing. Killing and that.
As I was musing on this, a bloke came up to me and waved a knife in my face. He was trying to mug me. That was the most stupid thing I had ever experienced. I was so irritated, I punched him in the face, despite the inevitable headache.
Which didn't happen. I tried it again. Mashed his face into a bloody pulp, and he was crying and begging after a couple of minutes of that. Bloody brilliant. But one test remained.
I let my face change into game face and bit down on his neck. Not a twinge of a migraine. And I'm telling you, that sweaty, greasy bloke was the best meal I'd had in months.
I don't know what exactly I've got myself into here, but I'm telling you - it's a damn sight better than where I came from. Cheerfully I made my way into a scuzzy looking bar. I slammed a twenty onto the counter.
"I'll have as much whisky as that can buy," I said to the bartender. He looked at me for a minute, then took one of the bottles off the shelf and handed it to me. Now that's the sort of bar I like. I tasted it. Tasted like alcoholic sandpaper - which was better than I expected for the price.
I settled in for a good session of drinking. Then maybe later I'd go out and kill some more. That sounded like a nice night.