STRANGErs In The Night

Chapter 9: A crack in the wall

(a/n: I think I'm taking this shit too seriously its been 11 fucking parts an the romantic leads have yet to meet. welp i guess well continue)

Once again, the god emperor of the ne romancers found himself wiggling his way through the dirty alleys of the Sprawl. Behjnd him, he felt a burst of energy as Garfeld Eats was bazook'd out of existence by the guardsmen.

Thursday hoped Garfeldo was alright, and that the bartender died for the crime if substtlituting his coffee with a Garfuccino.

Thursday moved the piece of paper the Don has given him up the inside of his torso until he could spit it out, then held it I. his beak while he checked the address. Interesting. It was on a lower level where the cops didn go and there were disreputable bars and clubs and sci fi drug dens and shit. checking his internal gps (godly planet smaps) thursady noted that the place was an mechanics motorbike gRage. intrigued, His Darke Excellency wriggled his way towards a train station (for tho His becromantic power knwe few bounds, Thursday could not telepoet.)

As the the archon of death entered the monirail station, he realized in a jolt if social panic that he didnt have whatever the toronto equivalent of a compass card is. being a long furby with no regular hands or pockets, he also didn't have any money to get a ticket. Though he considered simply slithering under the gat to the platform, the corpse king decided to pickpocket the lady in front of him instead.

utilizing his lengthy rorso to its fulles, he snaked his lower half out and triped the woman, then grabbed her card (which she was about to tap) out of her hand with his beak. The woman collapsed to the floor, and when dhe rose, sputtering angeily, Thursday came face to face with the person he was robbing. OH SHOOT, said Thursday sonorously. The person glowered annoyedly at him. also plot twist it wasnt a woman it was elon musk i decided.

"Get back hwre you god-damned rapscallion!", said Elon musk as Thursday moved thru the gate/turnstile or whatever and got on aan escalator to the platform

"Stop! Help police! the goth furby stole my walket! hollered musk in the tone of a 18th century capitalist.

And though ppolice wold arrive at the seen eventually, Thursday was long gone by that point, having slithered onto the next monorail arriving aat the station adn moved on to the outskirst of the town, where the thriving seedy underbelly of the sparwl began to trandsform into a barren waste out of a great depression picture. Here, near the great barrier awll seperating the lowest levels of the city from the yawning abyss, those discarded by the Queen eked out what live s they could.

It was here that Thursday;s little slip of paper led him: to a run down 50s mechanic shop looking place callid "Devin King & Friends Auto Repair". Sliding over the dirty street and up to hte fromt entrance, thursday squirmed his way around the oldest, wrinkliest, cat he had ever seen sleeping on the ground, and inside, where a group of younger bingii, sry i mean bingopodes was hanging around by their motorbikes chatting.

"Hey, how can I hslp you?" said one of the bingopodes, casually walking over as he wiped his grasy paws on. a rag.

Thursday eyes the younger man., until deciding that he shiwed graet trustworthiness in his goblin-like facial features.

I HAVE BUSINESS WITH ONE KHOSHEKH XIV? he queried awkardly.

"Hey, yeah thas me." said one of the other bingos, standing up slightly less casually and walking over. "u look like a weird dude, did garfo send you?"

UM, YES. THE DON GAVE ME UR ADRESS.

"hnh. you must be important then," said the Khoshekh descendant as he threw on his biker jacket. "what do you need?"