A black Hummer hummed past once Marko was a little ways down the block from the Chantry on his way to no place in particular. He would know where he was going, he decided, when he got there. What he needed right now was time to try to figure out the plan; not his own plan, he never really made any plans because there was way too much always going on to make plans with any sort of reliability. It was better, Marko learned, to let things happen as they will and work with what is right in front of his eyes or sometimes what was wrong behind them. The Bad Voice had a plan, though, and the Wizard King knew nothing of it. Another in the Network started to say the Wizard King was protecting something, but didn't say what. Did it matter? Marko supposed that would depend on what he was protecting. What was the Bad Voice planning? The Bad Voice wouldn't tell him, but it might tell Tabby Tabby-Cat. Did she know? She might. Was he a part of the plan? Was she? If Marko was going to guess, and all he could do was guess right now, he would say that yes, Tabby-Cat was part of the plan the Bad Voice had; maybe even she was the plan. But was he part of it, too, or was he an accident, some unforeseen X factor? For that matter, X went away, was that part of the plan? No; that was silly. So what was the point to the Tabby-Cat plan? What was the endgame to this plot? How could find out? He could ask Tabby-Cat, but would she tell? She might, if he was part of it. If he was part of the plan, which part was he? Was the Hummer involved? Did the driver know where he was going, or was he going nowhere fast? Did any of that have anything to do with anything? Did anything have anything to do with anything? Why was he suddenly feeling so existential? Where was the Network? They were hiding from the Bad Voice. This was the puzzle; what was the point of the Madness in the Method?
Marko turned the corner and noted there was quite the commotion in the direction of Tidy-Bear's clubhouse of confessing. This truth inspired him with an epiphany. There always a lot of lively happenings happening in the former church were the Beat-Priestess and Tidy-Bear plied their trade; it might be worthwhile to go there. Where better to exercise one's bad spirits than a church? Even more importantly, all that cacophony was sure to help him unscramble the eggs in his head.
As he approached, he quickly learned that the commotion was caused by the wigging and wagging of emergency vehicle lights. The reason for all the fuss was fire. Marko instinctively backpedalled away from the flames; even farther away than the yellow border would suggest was a safe distance. It struck him as a little bit silly he would worry so much about a dying fire that the fighters had all but defeated already. From his angle, Marko spotted a large bat rise up from behind the remains and take to the sky.
...the Wolf and the Bat are one...
"You mean Fenris, don't you?" Marko said aloud, pulling his aviator goggles down over his eyeballs. He allowed his gaze to track her trajectory and started to follow, wondering briefly if she could catch his scent. Even his scrambled eggs could grasp the idea, though, that her flight probably had nothing to do with him and everything to do with either Tidy-Bear or Damn Sail. His thread of thinking was made stronger when he saw that the likely place she was going was the Hollowbrook; towards the back alley behind the infamous hotel where the Sabbat used to hide. Sensing this might be trouble, Marko activated his obfuscate and carefully crept around the building until he got to the alley behind. Overhead, he heard the screech and squeal of an angry Wolf-Bat mixed with the frightened cries of a guy whose voice he thought he knew. The cries turned to a scream that got louder until it stopped abruptly when the guy who belonged to the voice landed nearby. Before Marko could get a good look at the fallen, broken man, the Wolf-Bat swooped right over his head, prompting him to duck instinctively. Did she do that on purpose? Can she see past his obfuscate, is it a sonar thing? Maybe her nose knows. Or, it could just be that since she's as blind as a bat that was a fluke. Still hidden, Marko watched and listened as Fenris became her old self again and looked around, then spoke to Tidy-Bear. The Beat-Priestess was probably dead. Cops thought Tidy-Bear was a suspect. It occurred to Marko that Fenris could not have been more than sixteen trips around the Sun when she was embraced. He figured out why he thought he knew the sniper. Fenris decided Tidy-Bear had to lie low; they had to ask the sniper what the Plan was. They had to get rid of the Russian Monkey. Marko had an idea.
"Romeo the Cemetery Man has an oven." He offered once he came out of obfuscate. "We can bake the Russian monkey there, and you mix in with the corpses for awhile, Tidy-Bear."
Both of them nearly lost their skin when he spoke up.
"Jesus Christ" Tidy-Bear shouted.
"Nope" Marko replied. "I'm not even from Nazareth. My great uncle might have been, and I think one of my voices is, but not me."
Interestingly, Fenris actually looked relieved. "Finally someone I don't have to babysit shows up." She muttered. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. All we need is some wheels with trunk space to transport this body and we can cremate it at Romero's. We might have to score him some action as payment; I'll even do that personally if I have to."
"Just tell the pervert it's a favor for VV and she'll compensate him down the road." Tidy-Bear countered. It was clear that the Brujah was trying to protect her in some way; probably because he had seen too many minors get exploited already. This effort was a little bit after the horse left the stable, but it was sort of sweet, anyway. "Anyway," he continued, producing keys from his pocket which he tossed at Fenris. "I got the wheels covered. It's probably best you get them and pick me up if the cops are looking for me."
Fenris caught the keys. "Okay, good; this is starting to come together." She said, looking at the broken sniper. "That leaves him. We need to know what he knows."
"I will pick the brain of the second Chunk." Marko offered. This man was a living ringer for the now deceased security guard of the Gallery Noire and LaCroix building.
"Fine and good" Tyler agreed. "Fenris, you get my car from the Parking Garage. Marko and I will get this scumbag downstairs into the storage area so Marko can do his thing. I'll be out here waiting by the time you get back."
Fenris nodded and took off with the keys. Marko and Tidy-Bear hoisted the broken and Chunky one and carried him to the storage area of the Hollowbrook. Then Tidy-Bear went back upstairs, leaving Marko alone with the brother of Chunk.
Once he heard the engine of Tidy-Bears' machine roar away, Marko made quick work of removing the snipers' remaining artillery: a .38, a bowie knife, a police baton, a can of mace, and – this was interesting – a set of three 9 inch pointy sticks. Could they be meant as stakes? Maybe that diamond with a star inside on his breast was connected. As he disarmed the Chunky sniper, Marko also assessed his injuries. He was going to be in serious pain when he came to. There would be no need for inflicting anymore. Instead, Marko searched his own pockets, hoping he was right about remembering what he almost forgot he even had. Finally, in one of his cargo pant pockets, he found what he was looking for; painkillers. Instead of causing pain, he could withhold pain relief.
Gently, Marko patted the sniper's chubby cheek. "Wake up, oh Chunky brother!" he called softly. "It's time to tell a story."
Slowly the surviving chunky one began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and looked straight at him. His aviator goggles still covering his eyes, Marko smiled widely. Chunky frantically reached for his pistol and promptly shrieked in pain as his fractured arm and cracked ribs screamed inside his body in protest of any movement of any kind. Marko held up the bottle of pain killers and rattled the pills inside. He wasn't sure if they would still work or if they had expired, but that didn't really matter right now.
"Doctor Oxford at your service, Chunky one," Marko said with a bow. "You had a bad fall and I will be treating you. But first I need to ask you a few questions."
"You're one of them, aren't you?" Chunky asked.
With a mock confused look on his face, Marko replied. "Wait; I'm the one who's supposed to ask the questions, not you."
"Go to hell, you bloodsucking son of a whore!" he responded through painstaking gasps for air.
"First question;" Marko continued, ignoring the comment. "What is your relationship with the Russian Monkey?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You'll have to do better than that if you want me to treat you." Marko insisted. "Second question;" he pointed at the badge on his breast. "What is that?"
"Don't you get it?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm not telling you anything, you crazy son of a bitch! You'll have to kill me like you did my brother!"
There is a better way to do this.
Marko grinned. As little as he liked the Bad Voice, it was right this time. There was a better way. He calmly lowered himself to his haunches, and stared directly into Chunky's eyes before activating his Dementation.
"But I don't want to kill you, Chunky." He replied gently. "I want to help you, and you know that. After all, I am your doctor..."