Fantasy in the City

Commuting

Getting to the office was particularly hard today.

Leaving the house is always risky when the Order of Abasement is in the ascendance.  You have to travel with a spare pair of tiler's kneepads in case you run across a Holy Brother of Disconsolation.  I'm sure they pick on us office workers and make us crawl that extra half-mile to the next bus stop just because they didn't get the right grades at school.

I came across a pair of their monks ambushing people coming out of Starbucks at around twenty past eight.  As soon as they saw the laptop case and my skinny latté they had me.  I'm sure I have Apostate written on my forehead, or something.

"Have you atoned, brother?"  droned one, a weaselly looking boy with acne and a nasty twitch.

"Mortification of the Flesh is the only way to show Our Lord of Disconsolation your faith.  Whip with us, brother!"  chanted the other, a brawnier looking meathead, lazily flicking at his back with a set of hooked chains, eyeballing me with a real, "What you gonna do about it!" stare.

I had a nine O' Clock video conference with Head Office to get to.  "No, it's OK; I'll catch you later guys!  Got the whips done first thing, I'm all done!"

I could tell the big one was going to make something of it.  Maybe get me to eat ashes or some such shit.  He was opening his mouth to give me some real hard-ass crap when he froze.

When I say froze, I really mean froze.

Like a popsicle.  

It's one of the risks of hanging round outside a coffee store when the Order's ascendant.  Ascendency allows Ice Demons to enter our world and they really like coffee shops.  I suppose it's the heat of the coffee machines and all those warm bodies grouped together - lures them like bees to a honey pot.

This freezing SOB popped up right out of the ground where Brother Butch stood.  He froze, the demon snickered, and I squealed, throwing myself backwards into a table and showering myself in someone's cold mochachino. Before the demon could reach me, the doors of Starbucks burst open and the baristas dashed out, roared defiance and attacked their nemesis, armed with trays, whisks and a double-headed axe.  

For me it was time to leave.  That 9:00 a.m. appointment was getting awful close.  I left the sound of holy battle as the baristas, demon and surviving monk squabbled over bragging rights.  I’m sure I heard the sound of something heavy shattering on the sidewalk.

I decided to make up some lost time by taking a cab. I managed to get to the nearest cab rank just at the same time as another guy.  We both collided by the last cab.

He was a freaking paladin.  I hate paladins.  They’re always so polite yet they really don’t give a damn.  This dude didn’t and he was built like a linebacker.  I could almost imagine him running out onto a football field dressed in his surcoat and mail.  Kind of ridiculous really.

"I must have this cab, sir!"  the pompous ass stated as he tried to block off the door.

"No you don't!"  I said trying to duck past him. "I'm in a hurry and you've got to help me, man.  I'm in, like, a totally major hurry!  You’ve gotta let me have the cab, it’s your duty!”  I glanced at my watch.  Eight thirty?  It couldn’t be eight thirty! 

“We could share it, sir! I presume you wish to travel downtown?  I need to get to the Temple of the Blessed Eagle.  It is surely on your way?”

As it happened, it was.  For some reason I shrugged and agreed.  Perhaps I needed to store up some credit with Big Bird.

We both squeezed into the back.  I’m a big guy after too many years of office work and donuts and I was pushed up uncomfortably against ManMountain, who had somehow managed to force in a jousting helm, a kite shield and a tilting lance.  The aircon was out and it did not take long for the back of the cab to be like a hothouse.  Sweat dripped unpleasantly down my back, making my shirt stick.  My foot tapped irritably as we hit pretty heavy mid-town traffic.  It was slow but at least it was moving.