Frank Klepacki. Hell March.
The Lion Man stole a vehicle and rode it out of that hospital like a bat from the fires of Hephaestus. The tiny red Mazda truck was an older make, and probably from someone who didn’t have all that much money.
He would later tell me that it still comes back to him, even now. You see, it was an emergency that had made the owner drive to the hostibal in the first place, and in such a mental state, they’d forgotten to lock it up after having to find a place to park it out of the way of the rest of the emergencies that would be showing up.
Someone had tragedy befall someone who mattered enough to them to eschew an ambulance ride, or perhaps it was there was no time to wait for an ambulance, whatever.
An it was evident that they didn’t have enough funds to afford a newer vehicle that would lock up and arm itself with an alarm system at the press of a key fob button.
Now their ride was stolen. Talk about a bad day for them.
However, Joey was having a bad day. Hell, he had been having a bad day all night. Perhaps you will forgive him for how he abused that old vehicle.
Lion Man Sped along in panic mode (Do Not Panic, unless it is absolutely necessary) among the side streets in the black heart of Fuckno. He’d left Saint Mary’s Hostibal just as the police cars were arriving there in response to the discovery of one of the stolen expensive vehicles from the mayhem up to the north and west.
It would have been too easy to jump back in and race away. Too easy, as in; easily caught.
He listened to his instincts, and that is what you must always do when you are in Panic Mode. Fight or Flee. If you are lucky enough to have been trained hard in how to react or navigate during Panic Mode, then God Bless You. These skills have become your instinct.
Joey had not been trained, so all that he had in his tool box was his natural self-preservation instincts, and these would serve him well.
The thing that you should know about The Little Lion Man was that in his own tool box, he was an instigator.
That would be his savior.
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Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV and I am pleased to tell you that the international news station Cable Unlimited News, or CUN as we lovingly refer to them, has picked up our story. Apparently, the alleged amazing explosions up to the north of Fuckno and the coinciding baptism of a huge mansion at the same place are not the end of this Night Of Treachery Coming Out Of Losers Behaving Really Awfully, or NOT COOL BRA as we are referring to it. Indeed, there is alleged evidence that some vigilantes, acting as heroes, tried to thwart the escaping stealers of cars. Many allegedly have ended up injured in their attempts to stop them stealers. I know! How totally tubular that I am covering this story Leslie! Ahem, I apologize for that. Leslie is our excited camera man. So we have allegedly have been told by police that everyone needs to be on the lookout for some other vehicles. One is a Maserati Bora, and another is a horse-drawn funeral stage coach with a bright, blue horse that glows like it was on fire with blue flames, and also a long black vehicle with a circle A painted on its driver’s door. Now back to you in the studio, where you can make a seat for me at the anchor’s desk for the nightly news, bitches! Oh my god! My hair is so fucked right now from the torrential downpour---
(---commercials cut in for closed fast foods joints at this early hour---)
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Seen felt at ease. He had been afraid of the probing and examination tools at first, but since these folks did not appear to intend to harm him, he let them do their work. Hopefully, they would make this new vessel healthy enough for him to restart his previous work, on such a mortal plane of existence.
He lied now in his fresh, clean bed, and wondered about the amount of work it took to keep such a place this clean. He considered that their food might also be good. This new body’s belly rumbled and gurgled in hunger. He wondered what food they might have in store for him to eat. He wondered what weapons they might have for him to steal.
He put his arms up behind his head and looked at the ceiling and smiled.
It had been centuries since he’d last been here, and my, how things had changed, he thought.
And then a nurse came in to help him wash up.
Sleeper Agent. Get Burned. For Tellesco.
“Tellesco! I have an idea!”
“Really?! Nice! I ain’t got any myself, Mr. Will!”
“I know, and that’s cool. But keep driving and check this idea out. Do you remember the way to your old place?”
“Ha! Of course I do! I know that route like… Uh, wait. You want me to drive us there?”
“Well, yes. Just do it. You’ll see.”
“Huh. Well, ok, if you say so Mr. Will.”
Radical Face. Welcome Home. We drove to Tellesco’s home. This is for him, wherever he may be now. Hope he’s doing well.
He drove the huge black hearse without saying anything at all. The rain that pounded the wind shield with its angry knuckles covered our shared silence. I stared out of the passenger window, trying to be cool, but all I could see was my own fraught face staring back, lit from the watery light of the headlamps refracted back upon us from the rain.
Ya know, it took something to drive back to the home that he grew up in and was now gone. No matter what had happened to him there, no matter what had become of it, the place we were heading towards had once been his home.
And because of what had happened to it, he had lost Home.
Looking back, I think that was why he held on to Sean so strongly.
Sean was his Home.
Home was were Sean was.
And now, Sean was gone.
Seen was in his place.
Seen was a Walkin.
Sorry about that Tellesco.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.