Beer Run

“Why is it, anywhere else in the city we’d have people asking for autographs, but here we get ignored?”

“Have you seen what other people wear to Walmart, late at night?”

Luna Fuego and Qilin, while searching for an escaped crook in Walmart

Chancellor Killian Von Volksburg was already stripping off his jacket and tie as he walked down the gangplank of the intrepid, revealing the tight undersuit he wore, a Kevlar weaved 'union suit' in the black, white and red of his new nations flag, a flag based on the Northern German Confederation from before the first world war. It had seemed appropriate as he had left to form a 'new' Germany in a way.

He tossed the jacket and shirt at an aid as he approached his car, ignoring their questions about his well-being. "Get that to a dry cleaner." He kicked his pants off. "Those too. If they can't save the suit, burn it. Then you may go back to the hotel."

“Yes sir. “His aide said draping the wet clothing over her arm as her partner opened the door to the car for him. Would you like one of us to accompany you?”

"No. I'm going to irritate the fools trailing me, then find decent beer assuming there is any in this god forsaken city." He said. "Have a good evening." He closed the door, started his car, and took off, smirking as he noticed the unmarked cars coming up behind him. Flicking a switch, he activated the green and white lights the American's used, and goosed the throttle, losing his tail in fifteen minutes of what even he would admit was rather reckless driving. One of the best ways to vent one’s frustration, drive fast and annoy lesser men.

“Now to find a liquor store.”

In front of Franks booze and lotto, Greg sat watching he’d been tootling around looking for a good car to boost when he saw the big shiny car he didn’t recognize, but it screamed money. He watched the big man go into the store, then, in a blink, he was in the car and taking off. Calling the shop to let them know to get the torches hot.

The Chancellor ignored the odd looks he was getting for his outfit, or general presence. Killian wanted decent beer. "Becks. Well, it's not a micro-brew but it is more than acceptable." He nodded, picking up a twelve case of bottles. Carrying them to the front, he paid and walked out, to find his car gone. "Well, this is going to be irritating." He sighed.

Pulling out his phone he glided up into the air, "Yes, have intelligence locate my car, and give me the location. Someone has decided to volunteer themselves to let me vent some frustrations."

Yes sir, there was a brief pause. You should see the location on the GPS on your phone sir. Do you need me to contact local law enforcement for cleanup? Say in…twenty minutes?

In the garage Metallica winced as the sexiest car she’d ever seen rolled in, with a nasty subharmonic whine. The other men in the garage, half of which were tweaking, cheered. She winced, pulling on her headphones to try and block some of the noise.

Their leader had a big smile. “Hey Tweety get over here and get started breaking this down.”

Metallica groaned. “Boss, this is bad news. This kind of car is going to bring enough heat to weld with.”

He stomped over and smacked her hard across the face, knocking her headphones off. “I didn’t ask your opinion bitch I told you to start chopping!”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Thank you for the location. No, no, Make it thirty. No reason to rush." He shifted to fly in the direction of the beacon, passing over the lower buildings as he hung up his phone, whipping around taller skyscrapers as he let the GPS link guide him in. Before long he was in a poorer neighborhood off Manhattan Island, a small warehouse with far too much activity around it. "My, someone's industrious."

The man known as Kreigsmarine landed just in time to watch the girl, who was sensibly objecting to stealing his car, get slapped by a fat man with food stains covering his chest. "Well now that is not gentlemanly." He stated, even as he began walking into the warehouse. "Especially when she's giving you good advice."

The fat man spun around pulling his gun and shooting with a clear lack of remorse for whoever was in the muzzle path. Metallica dropped to the floor not wanting to get hit half deaf from the shot so close to her she crawled on her belly towards the car, figuring under it was probably the safest place she could be as all the other idiots that worked for the shop also started shooting.

Kreigsmarine didn't even miss a step as the nine-millimeter round pancakes against his chest, reaching out to backhand a goon that was charging him with a crowbar, the act filled with almost casual indifference, sending the bulked up, prison tatted thug spinning across the warehouse and into a wall. Another foolish man charged him and Kreigsmarine simply picked him up by the throat and tossed him unceremoniously at a group of fleeing thieves.

He finally reached the fat man, the third or fourth bullet having destroyed itself on his torso. He reached out and ripped the gun, and one of the man’s fingers, from his hand and broke it in half. Reaching out, he lifted the corpulent criminal by his throat. "You are thinking 'I work for this man' or 'I paid for protection from' as though it matters. I am Kreigsmarine. I am the ruler of a nation. I am more powerful than you could dream to be. You have no protection."

Sniffing, he looked down, rolled his eyes, and threw the man into a dumpster nearby. "And you also lack bladder control.

The dumpster made a ringing sound and the tweekers he’d knocked down scrambled to their feet, half running away and half shooting guns or throwing whatever was at hand at the villain. Hitting him the car and their friends with equal fervor

"Ihr verdammten Arschlöcher, ihr schießt auf mein Auto!" he yelled, slipping into his native tongue in frustration.

Grabbing a nearby, half stripped Tesla, he hurled it at the men, the crash of steel, glass, and flesh driving the rest out the back and away from the chaos.

He dropped to one knee and peeked under the car. "You may come out. The idiots are gone, and I have no hostility towards you." he said to the girl with the headphones.

Metallica looked at the man. The firefight had left her over sensitive ears bleeding. And she was having trouble hearing him. She scooted out from under the car raising her hands. “Dude, I want no beef. I can get that whine outta your engine if you let me go.”

"Get in the car. We should leave." He sighed. "At least they only hit the roof…Wait, what whine?"

It took her a moment to make sense of his words. “Pretty sure your water pump is getting ready to go. It’s quiet now, but it’s going to fail if it isn’t fixed.” She said hoping she wasn’t shouting “Fuck I hate guns.” She thought to herself

He ignored her shouting. He figured her ears were ringing. He started the car. There wasn't an error message, but he considered her. She seemed so sure. “Get in. I know a place where you might be able to find a job... and take my car to get the holes fixed at the very least. Idiots with their guns." He grumbled. He set his Beck, still in its case, between the seats.

She wasn’t sure what he said but she understood his gesture and reluctantly slid into the passenger seat. Hoping none of the oil and grease from her clothes got on the leather. He pulled out and made several strategic turns before turning for Long Island. “Are your ears over the ringing yet?”

“Starting to, sir.” she said, glancing over at him with bright green eyes. “Sorry. I have enhanced hearing so gunshots… mess me up.”

“Ahh. Thus, the headphones. I understand. Now how did you end up working in a crowd of fools? You appear to have actual sense. “

She shrugged. “Fat gut was my mom’s brother, she and my dad died of overdose, so he’s raised me since I was around two.”

“Ahh. Well, he likely lived.” He shrugged. He tapped the assistant key on his wheel. “Call Solaris.”

“Hello? Is there a problem Killian?”

“Can your little fledglings fix automotive bullet holes? Oh, and I hate New York.”

“Bullet holes? You only left the party a half hour ago… Bloody hell, someone stole your car didn’t they. Yes, they can handle bullet holes. I’ll message Levi and let them know you’re coming out. Do you need the address for the garage?”

“Of course I have it. I also have a potential employee for them. Poor girl got stuck at a chop shop when she obviously was smarter than the mouth breathers. “

Solaris arched a brow. “I’ll have Elenore there as well then, she’s my project manager. How far out are you?”