Hold onto your white hat's readers, the following content will be like a car crash.
Might have to change the rating.
Trigger warning.
11.
Wascally Wabbit
"Aren't you going to try some? I promise you won't regret it darlings." Came a voice from a woman who'd been watching Jo and Branson stand back from the casket that was being used as a trough.
"Maybe later," Branson said tightly.
The figure, who was dressed like a playboy bunny came closer, her movement provocative and her attitude bold. She held a filled wineglass in her hand, a drying trickle of the red liquid apparent on the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, how sweet, you're fresh aren't you?' she asked, her voice purposefully patronizing but oddly jovial at the same time.
Then she lowered her voice a harsh whisper "I don't think you understand, not partaking in the juice means you'll not get near the fruits. Darlings.
"That, and you don't get a choice, if you know what I mean." She added, using her free hand to shield the words from where all the action was unfolding.
Jo rose a questioning brow behind her mask. "No, what do you mean?" she asked, betting on a chance that the strangely addled woman would divulge some more.
No porcus sanguis, no Angelus, darling… here," she said shoving the glass at the couple, "drink up, you wouldn't want to be late for that very important date!" she said with a dramatic wink. "it's like the vegan version of the elixir of the youth, and…" she looked around to check if no one was watching, "it gets you in the mood."
And with that she flitted away, leaving the couple staring after her before she seemed to disappear into the crowd like a nymph.
"Pigs blood?" Jo asked, translating her rusty Latin with a disgusted look on her face that Branson could still make out despite the mask.
"It's alright as black pudding," Branson said lightheartedly whilst holding up the glass and swilling the contents.
They both watched it leave a crimson smear around the edge.
"You English eat the weirdest things." Jo said, still somewhat grossed out.
"Ha!" Branson's laugh burst out before he could control it. "We eat the weirdest things? Have a look around you sweetheart, your people are partying on... This." He said, holding the glass aloft.
They hung back and observed some more, while trying to work out the rest of the strange Lady's cryptic engagement with them.
Her Latin word for Angels was most revealing in the context of her sentence.
A feeling of dread flowed over Jo at the same time as Branson said, "It's a lead."
"Yeah, follow the white rabbit, but only if we go to the Mad Hatters Tea party first and we don't get to go if we aren't in the mood? What's that all about?" She asked just when she spotted a few quite mature couples performing way too much PDA that was appropriate in her opinion.
"Never mind," she said, averting her attention from the amorous displays.
"Maybe I should eat more black pudding when we get home."
"Bran, now is not the time to make light of this." She chastised him but at the same time she knew Branson well enough by now that he sometimes used inappropriate humor to distract himself when he was immensely stressed.
"On the contrary my dear, this is the perfect time because what's going on here is downright evil," he said in a low voice, finally admitting to himself what his eyes were seeing. This performance wasn't just some movie reminiscent of a psychedelic Eyes Wide Shut.
No, it was far more sinister.
Children had no place to be anywhere near adults in this state and yet, that was why they were here and that made him ever more determined to push on.
He placed the ominous glass on one of the many pieces of furniture placed throughout the gallery before he reached for Jo and turned her, so she was facing him.
He cupped her face in his hands. "Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Of course, with my life," she said with conviction.
"Do you trust God?"
Jo looked at him in confusion.
While they were Christian, they weren't religious, they were more spiritual, and each had their moments with source in their own way.
She nodded.
"Good, because if they worship this… fallen angel," he said tipping his head to the silver character, "you can bet they believe. That scares them, that's why they do this.
"So, we'll need all the help we can get?" Jo asked.
"All of it," he said just before the M.C. announced that it was time for the guests to register for dessert, before they feasted on the main course.
Leaning into Jo's ear, Branson whispered, "the children need us, Jo." He said before retrieving the glass, "Take a sip," he said, offering it up to her lips.
Branson could see Jo was horrified, but he continued to look into her eyes, giving her as much courage as he could.
"Trust me."
He had to give credit where it was due when he saw the look in her blue orbs change from fear to the determination of a momma bear.
To his surprise, Jo took control of the glass and emptied half of it in one gulp.
It was all or nothing, and then with equal resolve, Branson threw back what remained of the contents.
"It's showtime," he said before sealing their fate and their faith with a searing kiss.
"I love you," Jo said when they parted before catching her breath.
Branson smiled, still unable to believe his luck when this unbelievable woman entered his life. "And I you sweetheart."
After a moment the pair noticed two things.
One, that the M.C. Was checking each person as the couples lined up, before scanning both their opera glasses and their tablet.
Two, they began to feel a strange sort of hedonic euphoria start to creep through them.
Taking their time to head to the checkpoint, Branson fought to keep his mind on the task at hand and not on thoughts of ravishing the woman on his arm.
Jo, by contrast couldn't help but let the feeling wash over her and she clung onto Branson like a lovesick teenager.
Which didn't help Branson.
Meanwhile, Saint John, Caitlin and Le had also arrived on the RV Dolphin, setting one of the AW169's on deck near The Lady.
After securing the chopper, Le organized for Airwolf to be plugged into external power so they could patch into her systems without draining her batteries. They joined the others in the briefing room and Le plugged into the ship's central computer to bring Branson and Jo's mission up on screen.
Back on shore, Branson was battling his unease. As was often the case, his reaction to nervous tension was to smile, it was a coping mechanism and frequently his nemesis.
But not today.
"My don't you look like the cat that caught the canary?" said the M. C. when the couple had made their way to the front of the line.
Even though the dark-skinned character's expressions were obscured with the only mask in the gallery that covered the bottom half of his face, his eyes gave away that he was grinning with delight.
"Indeed," Branson said turning to kiss Jo on the temple, "like the cheshire cat in Wonderland." he said, the goofy grin never leaving his face.
"Here, let me scan you and I'll get you through to your very own piece of Wonderland."
To which nonsensical laughter erupted from the immediate circle of fellow patrons.
After their amusement settled, both the Opera glasses and tablet were activated, and they were required to walk through a body scanner.
"You wouldn't want any spy's getting through would you, you dirty little devil?" Jo asked, her filter completely failing which caused her beau to sober up in the midst of the Uh Oh moment.
"Such a lightweight," Branson joked, hoping to divert the Silver Devil from Jo's inadvertent gaff.
"She is delightful," The M.C. commended, and paused to rescan Branson, "but you on the other hand can hold your juice."
"Sure doesn't feel like it from my end," Branson said, his silly grin spread wider – not just because he was high.
The M.C. chuckled, "Look at me," he ordered, schooling his features to become more serious.
The fabric of euphoria tensioned like a rubber band.
Branson couldn't stand still, his nervous energy getting the better of him. He prayed that his pupils were dilated enough to hide both his emotions and the contact lens.
"Let me help you with that." The M.C. said reaching out for Bransons face to steady it so he could look into his eyes.
Closing in, the men locked their gaze and it felt as though the whole room was eagerly paying attention to the scene.
The Devil glanced at Branson's mouth eagerly. Appearing to deliberate, he took a sharp intake of breath, before reluctantly increasing the distance between them.
"She's one lucky lady." He said swiping a thumb over Bransons bottom lip, before letting go of him and perhaps revealing why the lower part of the horned man's face was obscured unlike everyone else.
The tension eased, and with that, the opera glasses and the tablet were handed back to the pair along with a key that had a code written on it.
"Even he thinks you're hot," Jo said in her inebriated state.
Branson smiled, gave her a slap on the rump to get her moving "Not as hot as you," he said relieved that they hadn't been discovered.
Turning to leave the line, he felt like he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder to check and found the tall silver figure staring after him. The moment the former head of state had been caught, he looked away and continued with what he was doing.
Like all the other guests, the code they were given identified which of the works of art hanging on the perimeter walls they were assigned to.
Jo and Branson found themselves in front of a surreal piece by Dali named The Broken Bridge and The Dream.
Facing the wall and backs to the center of the room, once everyone was in place, they were asked to use the key and insert it into the tablet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you may now view the menu. The highest bidder wins the sweet, sweet desert. Once you have won your prize, one of our escorts will show you to where your carriage awaits to take you to the Banquet where we shall feast after the clock strikes twelve."
Through the lens of each contact, the Santini Crew watched on, it was no surprise that they found it challenging to make any sense of the absurdity of it all.
And they were perfectly sober!
So engrossed were they with all the weirdness that they startled at the unexpected noise of Airwolf sounding an alarm.