Don't wear a plague mask for corona I ONC 2021

Chapter 2 - Part 1: Don't play a gangster in Italy

The large tin can flight was interesting, to say the least. He wasn't aware humans had that kind of transport technology. A plane, right? Ah, who cares.

The flight itself had been boring, though he'd had enough problems checking up on the unnatural signal as it was. Humans demonstrated the tendency to appear just as he would whip up the live-dead map out in the open, and he had the feeling that wouldn't sit well with them. He'd already exhausted too much power on escaping the wrath of human guards after the mask debacle, and then after sacrificing some of it on an illusion to keep humans from seeing the voids on his face. He couldn't lose more. Any more and he would practically be mortal himself.

Maybe it was futile to look at the map when he would be signaled for it, but he didn't want to miss any kind of movement of the intruder. It was evidently someone smart and cunning. Kuolema shouldn't get lulled into a false sense of security like an idiot.

His thoughts got scattered from turbulent landing as he honestly feared this would be the end of his journey until he could amass his power back considering he would virtually be dead just like everyone else. He had a week to solve this at best. No metallic birds would stop him. Not even those that vibrated as if they would snap in half any moment now.

Done with the admittance to the airport, Kuolema exited the half-empty plane and headed off to the train that would take him from the city outskirts to the center. He already had plans to ransack the local reapers' mini-quarters in the area. This blasted body required food. He couldn't just gorge on magic as usual. He was reasonably certain his power would replenish some if he fed himself. Well, he hoped.

At least he had managed to procure a document that said something like SARS-CoV-2 negative. Even though he had no idea what that meant, the female on the seat just in front of him had been so fucking kind to wave her own paper into his face telling him how she would enter the county without a problem. It shouldn't be left to say he was very, very well-versed in illusion magic, to the point that he'd used so little of his power to paint one small blank paper into an almost exact copy of her own one with his assigned name on top that he didn't even feel a power drain. Almost.

Another metallic carriage called a train seemed to be Kuolema's favorite. There was almost no one traveling and he could get a cabin to himself.

An ancient, sable coat was his most treasured item. Long and sleek, it encased his figure whether he was in his usual appearance or this humanoid, artificial body. Plus it had storage inside, a pocket in dimension, a considerably larger version of his pouch, which he used to contain all his other possessions. He was almost sure someone had once called it a special magical item or something like that but he couldn't remember who or when.

Safe inside the train cabin, he took the coat off and placed it on the seat with the inner side up. He reached inside to gather the necessary gear. If he remembered right, on his last centennial surveillance journey, he did visit Milano. The mini-quarters had had a code to get in the back room. So he took out a white shirt, black trousers, and gleaming leather shoes, an outfit he'd gotten as a present from the reapers who had been stationed there at the time.

Time to put it on. Fortunately, he was the same size as before. The shirt fit him like a glove as the trousers did, a striking difference of white and dark, he saw from the reflection in the glass part of the cabin door just as the velocity decreased. Snapping the coat back over his shoulders, he let a mere trickle of power seep into it. The shape changed to a suit he'd worn back then, and his look was complete.

He reached inside the suit, bringing out the paper with the code words. Bonnie and Clyde. Kuolema had no idea what those names meant, but he knew he had to ask for them when he arrived at the place.

As he got out from the train station – and hadn't that been an experience, he felt like he was getting the grasp on these human modes of transportation – Kuolema found a corner where no one would bother him and opened the live dead map. His memory wasn't as vivid, he was sure he'd been here at least two times, but could barely remember the last one, and the human settlements had changed immensely in the past century.

He clucked his tongue at the distance between the station and mini-quarters but decided to walk. He would lose precious time but the food was his first priority.

The building was a medium-size thing with a ramshackle facade and enclosed from each side to it by other buildings in the line. It seemed different from the last time he'd been here, and as he rounded to the entrance, the presence of the reapers tingled over his senses with shrinking proximity to them. Two reapers, he noted.

The sign said Mostro Verde in large, white, cursive letters, and the black subscript just under it, Ristorante, was less striking.

Setting his shoulders, he walked in. Sand beige walls, yellow and white decorations on tables, and greyish seats. There were people inside, a few humans here or there, eating and drinking. The food did smell delicious enough to drool.

People kept throwing glances at him, whispering, some even pointed at him, but most stuck their faces back into food.

"Welcome," came from a man stepping forward and wearing a drab uniform of some kind. Kuolema presumed he was a servant. "A seat for one?"

"I'm looking for Bonnie and Clyde."

Silence. Then he heard one whisper. Then another. After a moment, a whole chorus of whispers followed. Pairs of eyes sweeping over his form as if looking for something.

The servant's face did a somersault of facial expressions; first, the surprise, then wonder, and lastly, fear. Weird. Kuolema was sure he'd said the right code.

"Please, come with me to the VIP room," the servant offered. "The owners will be there in a moment."

Kuolema realized he still didn't know jack shit about humans just before stepping through an unassuming doorway.

What the hell is V I P room? A torture chamber?

A/N: I finally got to publishing more. Hope you like it and if you have any suggestions for improvement, I'm all ears :D