Chapter Text
“You have a nice time on your trip, then.”
The man nodded a thanks and walked out the door, and Elisha sat down with a heavy breath. Last customer today. Finally. Around her, the rest of her co-workers seemed to be of about the same mind.
Working in the city was definitely different from working in town. The salon was bigger, for one. It was busier, more crowded, much more hectic. It was more important to be good here. Back in town, there had only been one hairdressing salon, but out here, if someone was unhappy with the service, they could just go somewhere else, so they had to be the best. They had to be good, they had to be quick, they had to be friendly, and organized, and neat. It was hard work from beginning to end, and Elisha loved it. If she did well here, she could go far, and she was doing well.
She got up and helped with the cleaning-up. She liked her co-workers too, which was important. Nothing was quite as good for the motivation as friends to chat with in-between the work, and sure, it was less than half a year since she got the job here, but she fit in nicely. She could already speak freely with most of them.
While the salon was technically within city limits, it was not in the most drastically urbanized of areas, meaning there was an actual parking lot for employees and customers out back. For Elisha, this meant that she could easily drive to work, which was nice. For her co-workers, it meant that they had many opportunities to question Elisha’s choice of transport.
“Okay, I don’t get it,” Sylvi said as they walked out to their respective cars. “It’s not like you don’t know anything about cars, I heard you keep a long, engaged conversation on the subject latest yesterday morning. And it’s not like you don’t care about appearances, because honestly.” She gestured to Elisha’s carefully planned outfit and immaculate makeup. “So what’s up with that?” She gestured to The Car.
The Car, unlike its owner, had heard the word ‘immaculate’ once, but seemed to have shrugged it off along with most breakable parts and a large portion of the roof rack. The Car thought accessorizing meant another hex slapped on a window, or possibly the process of turning other cars into accessories. The Car was to appearances what a criminal record was to a chance of working at a day-care.
Elisha sighed.
“It’s an antique,” she said.
“An antique,” Sylvi repeated, inserting as much doubt into her voice as humanly possible. “Sure. Elisha, it’s a wreck.”
“And it runs like a dream,” she answered. “I like it, and I won’t have anyone dissing it, okay?”
Sylvi rolled her eyes, but it was with a smile and she kept quiet. Elisha climbed into The Car and turned the ignition, which would have drowned out any speech anyways, and drove home.
“You’re unusually quiet today,” she remarked on the way.
The Car, of course, did not answer, but she knew it was listening.
“It wasn’t what she said, was it? I mean, it’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”
Still no reply.
“Wait,” she said, “was it because she said I’ve been talking about cars?”
A particularly surly growl from the engine confirmed her suspicions. To anyone else, it would have sounded like just another splutter in the cacophony that was The Car, but Elisha knew this thing now. She knew what meant what. She sighed.
“Baby, you know it’s not like that,” she said. “I won’t deny it, I like looking at sports cars, I wouldn’t mind going for a ride in a brand new Frigga 360, and I enjoy talking about expensive vehicles, but you’re the one I love, okay? Those things are just… cars. You’re my friend.”
She patted the dashboard reassuringly, and soon enough The Car was back to its normal level of noise. It pissed off the neighbours, but at least The Car was only this loud while she was driving, which was better than many other dogs. The contented roaring brought a smile to her face.
She parked The Car and walked up to her apartment. She really did love the old thing. After everything it had gotten her out of, the gods only knew where she would be without it. She was possibly fonder of it than of anything else in her life at the moment.
Though, when she thought about it, she still knew very little about it.
The mechanic back in town recognized it as the undead car of legend, roaming the roads, and off-roads, of North America, and sometimes other places, but he knew practically nothing about where it actually came from. In fact, from the way he spoke, very few people knew where it came from. Possibly no one.
But… that was not true, was it?
She paused in the middle of heating up some leftovers from yesterday for dinner. She bit her lip and furrowed her brows.
No… no, that was definitely not true.
She had met someone who knew her car once, but at the time, she had been too tired and freaked out to grab the chance to ask him questions.
What was his name again? Tyrone? She really should see if she could track that guy down, clear some things up.
Then again, how? How much did she actually know about him? His first name, which, yes, a quick search revealed that at least sixty Tyrones lived in the city alone. His general appearance, which was honestly too unremarkable to go on. His, if what he said was true, improbable age, though she doubted he was a vampire, and whatever else he was, she was unlikely to find it in the phone registry.
Her food finished heating up and she sat down to eat, still pondering the issue.
The other guy might be easier to track, when she thought about it. Sure, she only had a common first name for him too, but his car should be simple enough to find. Rainbow-coloured ancient trucks were the kind of thing people remembered.
Alright then, she thought, time to start asking around.
---
Whatever she told herself, it took her until the weekend before she could really get started on things. None of her co-workers could remember seeing a truck like the one she described, and while she could theoretically start asking her clients, that would be bad form.
Instead, she waited until her Saturday off, at which time she had booked a visit to a car mechanic. After all, if you want to know about cars, you go to those who do cars for a living.
The boys in the garage gaped at her as she rolled into their workshop with a roar. They kept gaping as she stepped out of The Car and smiled sweetly at them.
“Holy shit,” one of them said. “Is that…?”
“Can’t be,” said the other, an older-looking guy.
“But look at it!”
“I am looking.”
“Excuse me?” Elisha said, and the two guys’ heads swivelled towards her in perfect synchrony.
“Oh, right,” the older one said. “You’re Miss McKenzie?”
“Yes, I am. I gather you’re interested in my car?”
The younger guy answered, “It’s- It’s not actually the-”
“-legendary sentient wreck of North America?” she finished. “Yes, I’m pretty sure it is.”
After that followed a long, enthusiastic conversation during which she charmed her way into a full new set of tires for a fraction of the normal prize, got a better estimation of The Car’s age, and learned a few neat tricks of car mechanics. Eventually, she also asked about the rainbow truck.
“Oh yeah,” the younger guy said. “I think I’ve seen that thing around. Doesn’t that have stories about it too? I think I heard it was a demon or something.”
Elisha giggled at that.
“Well, from what I caught, you’re not wrong, but you’re not completely right either.”
“What,” he smiled. “Are you going for some legendary sentient car reunion or something?”
“Hehe, no. I really just need to find him. You wouldn’t know how, would you?”
The younger guy shook his head, but the older one hummed thoughtfully.
“Actually,” he said, “I have a friend at another shop who said something about something like that. He had that monster of a truck in for a security inspection I think. I don’t know how to find the owner, but he might. I will warn you, though, that he is one of the strangest men I have ever met.”
Elisha smiled and thanked him when he gave her the address, she paid for their time and work, The Car purred contently on its new tires, and then they set off in search of the other shop, all the way on the other side of the city.
---
She had to double check the name of the place before she was sure it was the right one. It seemed to be located in a normal, if unusually large, garage. Around the property stood several cars in various stages of dismantlement, and a few that had been un-dismantled in ways cars should not be put together. The logo above the garage door was nearly too intricate to read, and despite featuring a couple of stylized cars, it managed to look more like the logo of a washed-out tourist trap than a car shop. There were also, according to the cardboard signs hanging around, at least three sales going on. On close examination of the small print, however, each sale applied only to such a specific collection of conditions, none of them were likely to come up any time soon.
Elisha decided to park The Car further down the street and walk up on her own.
Inside the garage, there seemed to be an actual gift shop. It did sell the normal array of items one found in such workshops, like wheel bolts and motor oil, but it also seemed to keep keyrings, T-shirts, car-themed chemistry sets, an entire shelf of dashboard decorations, and, according to one half-hidden sign, pugs. Perfectly Legal pugs, at that.
The man who met her there matched his shop well, approaching her with open arms and a voice full of enthusiasm. She tightened her grip on her purse, but despite his used car salesman-grin, the man kept a respectful distance.
“Hello, customer,” he said. “I see you haven’t brought your car, but I’m sure there are still any number of things here to catch your fancy. So what do you say? What transactions can old Manfredi help you with today?”
“Actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”
The look on his face would not have fallen faster if she actually had hit him with the purse. His hands, which had been held out to present his merchandise, pulled in to form a defensive gesture.
“Hey, if this is about the dogs, I have all the necessary licenses back in-”
“It’s not about the dogs,” she said. She had to fight a smile. And how exactly had this man managed to stay clear of the police? “I’m sure the dogs are perfectly in order. I’m here about a car.”
Manfredi did not look reassured.
“Look, the hypersonic turbomajig? That’s all my brother, okay, I don’t know anything about the stuff he gets up to.”
“It’s not about that either,” she said. “I couldn’t care less about your illicit activities, I promise.”
“What’re you talking about? Who said anything about anything ‘illicit’? Nothing like that going on here.”
“Of course not. But all I want to know is about a car you had in for a security inspection a while ago.”
“Ah,” he said. His hands dropped back out of their defensive position, and a hint of the salesman-smile reappeared on his face. “Well, you know, my memory isn’t the best…”
She sighed. Honestly. Manfredi gestured subtly at his shelves of merch, and she considered it.
“You know, I was just thinking I needed a can of motor oil,” she said, “but yours looks so expensive.”
He grabbed a can of motor oil and placed it on the counter. “Eh, you’re cute,” he said. “How about half price?”
It was still overpriced at half price. It was more than overpriced, but she pulled out her wallet.
“Sounds good to me,” she said. “And I really think you’ll remember this particular car.”
The description of the murderous truck was somewhat vague, but it had the advantage of not really fitting anything else either. Manfredi’s face lit up in recognition as she spoke.
“Oh,” he said, “the Rainbow Basher.”
She vaguely remembered someone calling it that the first time she saw it, so she nodded. He continued.
“Oh yeah, She was here. She’s a beast, isn’t she? She passed the inspection with flying colours of course, don’t think a tank could put a dent in that lady, though I was almost a little worried about letting her back on the road. If her driver hadn’t been a certified demonologist, I never would’a done it, I swear.”
Really? Huh, that actually made a bit of sense. Interesting.
“You don’t think you could tell me how to contact him, do you?” she asked.
“Ehhh,” he said, dragging the sound out like he was considering it. “I’m not sure if I can give you that information, sweetie. Can’t just go around telling anyone where my customers live, can I?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Well, thank you for your help anyways, mister Manfredi, and good luck with the dogs.”
He waved after her as she left. Just as she walked out of the driveway, one of the amalgam cars she had noticed on her way in seemingly fell out of the sky and shattered against the ground. After a few seconds, a voice from behind the garage shouted, “I knew that was gonna happen!”
That must have been the brother, then.
Elisha walked faster.
She sat down in the driver’s seat of The Car, but she did not turn the ignition just yet. Instead, she pulled out her phone from her purse.
“Alright,” she muttered to herself, “time to put those search engines to good use.”
There were about three hundred people in the city named Thomas. Of those, about fifty were within the right age brackets. Of those, exactly one had graduated university with a degree in demonology.
“Nice to meet you, Thomas Strange.”
---
With both his address and phone number in front of her, contacting Thomas should be remarkably easy. She could just call him, ask about his friend and then with any luck only have to worry about her real goal from then on.
Then again, he might not want to give out information about a friend to a random stranger on the phone. She had better do this face-to-face, which would be harder to manage. It might be a little too weird to just show up at his door someday, though.
She spent the rest of the evening considering her options, and there was a little voice in the back of her head saying she was dragging it out. For all she wanted to know the answers to questions only he could answer, Tyrone had unnerved her. She was not too eager to meet him again.
Sunday was booked for a girls’ night out with Sylvi and a few other friends, so she put it out of her mind. Once the next week started up, the salon was as busy as it had ever been. Elisha had too much work to do to worry about cars or questions or elusive demonologists. She worked late most days, and on the shorter ones, she came home and took a look at the phone number written in her notes, and decided to leave it for tomorrow, some other day, maybe next weekend. Now, she needed a break. And so, nothing happened on that front for the next few days.
On Thursday, she was almost too tired to think by the time she closed the car door behind her. The day had been one of the most hectic ones of her life and she was glad it was over. Instead of having to worry about dinner after all that, she elected to stop by a diner on her way home, and grab a bite to eat and a large coffee.
She sat down at the diner positioned so that she could watch people passing by on the way to the counter. Not for any particular reason, she just ended up that way, but it did give her a good enough view to vaguely recognize him when he came in.
It took her a few seconds to realize what she had seen, but once she did, she froze.
No. There was no way, was there?
Had he just walked right past her nose after all that effort she spent looking for him?
She put her food down and got up in an attempt to get a better look at him.
That… really looked like him. In fact, she was about 90% sure it was him. Huh. Well, might as well ask, then. She started walking towards him.
“Thomas?” she said, and he jumped at her voice and turned around. Yup, definitely him, no doubt about it. “Thomas Strange, really? I didn’t expect to meet you here.”
“Uh,” he said. “Do I know you?”
“Not really,” she said, “but we met once. Your-” Realization hit her. Her smile fell off her face. Her next words came out in a rush. “Did you park your car outside?”
“Oh shit,” he said, as he remembered where they had met before, and then they both turned towards the door and started running.
---
Thomas dreaded what he would see when he pushed the door of the diner open, but at least he was not surprised to be met by the sight of the Rainbow Basher growling threats at another car. Again.
He paused for a few seconds in bewilderment, at a loss for what to do. The little blonde, what was her name again? Elise? Something like that. She was faster than him, getting between the cars and holding her hands up for them to stop before he had even taken two steps away from the door. After a moment’s thought, he walked over to her.
“Alright,” he said, directing a question at the few bystanders in the parking lot, “did anyone see what happened here?”
The bystanders all eyed the cars warily before one of them stepped forward.
“Um, well,” she said. “That car,” she indicated the rusted wreck on the left, “started up on its own and went towards the other car,” indicating the Basher on the right, “and then that one started up as well, and I think it scared the first one because it freaked out and backed into a lamppost, and that’s when you two came running out.”
“Thank you,” he said, and she walked back to a safer distance.
The girl, no really, what was her name? He tried to remember, but it was half a year since they met the first time on that road trip, and he had been distracted at the time. The girl looked from one car to the other a few times before she patted the hood of her own.
“Hey, hey shh,” she said, sounding like she was calming down some big animal. “You should’ve learned by now not to play with the big girls unless you can beat them. You go back to your spot and settle down, okay? There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll take care of this. It’s gonna be okay.”
She patted the car on the hood a few more times, and then it drove off and parked itself neatly in an empty spot. She turned around to face the Rainbow Basher. Stare down, was probably a better phrase to use. With her hands at her sides, her legs apart, her chin raised and her jaw set, she made it perfectly clear what she was thinking.
“And you,” she said. “What exactly did you think you were doing?”
The Rainbow Basher growled in confusion.
Thomas had seen people handle the Basher before. She listened to Tyrone, of course. Well, at least sometimes, and she listened to him too if she was in the mood, and Eddy had this uncanny ability to make her behave if she was acting up too bad, but this?
The girl, whatever her name was, was ranting as if the truck was a misbehaving child. Somewhere between “Is this any way for a proper truck to behave? Act your age already!” and “If you dare scare my car for no reason again, I swear your reputation won’t live to regret it,” the Basher started shrinking back, and once the barrage let up, she practically fled back to her spot.
The girl huffed, took a deep breath, and turned towards the diner.
“I need the rest of my coffee,” she said.
Thomas agreed wholeheartedly, and followed her in with a last glance at the two, once again perfectly docile, cars.
She gestured for him to sit down by her table, and once he actually paid for his order, he did.
“Well,” he said. “That was… impressive.”
The girl smiled over her coffee. “That was me unloading all my frustrations on a truck. It’s not a big deal.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No really, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone make her back down like that before.”
The girl smiled a little wider. Thomas held out his hand. “Um,” he said, “I’m afraid I don’t remember your name?”
She took his hand in her own and shook it. “Elisha,” she said, “Elisha McKenzie. It’s nice to meet you again, Thomas.”
“And you. I didn’t know you lived around here?”
She shrugged. “You ran into me while I was in the process of moving here, actually. I haven’t had the time to explore the city properly yet.”
“And I don’t really think we move in the same circles, anyways,” he said, taking in her general appearance.
She laughed. “I guess not, unless you’re talking about cars.”
“Yeah. Can’t be that many people with angry, sentient cars around, can there?”
“I know you’re the only one I’ve met. There’s just no one else who understands. My friends all think I’m crazy for keeping it.”
“God, tell me about it. You know the Basher gets summoned sometimes? Like, actual demonic summoning. Can be very annoying, let me tell you.”
“Really? At least I don’t have to deal with that…”
They talked for a long time.
Thomas could talk to his friends about the Basher, of course, but it turned out there was nothing quite like talking to someone who understood at this level. Someone who had similar stories, who understood what it felt like to have car maintenance be a bonding experience, and who knew what it felt like to not always be in complete control of your own driving. She could empathize where others could only sympathize, and he found he really liked that. He only realized for how long they had been talking when he happened to glance at his watch, at which point he hit his knee on the table in his hurry to get up.
“Ah, shit,” he said, “I should’ve been back at the lab half an hour ago!”
“Wait!” she said before he could run, “Let me give you my number.”
He handed her his phone, which had three missed calls how had he let that happen, and stood fidgeting while she entered her number.
On his way back to the university, Thomas was glad the Basher could drive safely on her own, because he found he could not take his eyes off his phone. Somehow, in the rush to get going, he had missed the fact that a very cute and interesting girl had given him her number. That she had asked to give him her number, no prompting necessary. That, in fact, she really wanted him to have her number. He had also missed the fact that she knew his name, and he had no idea how.
No really, how had she known? And why did that matter less to him than the little string of numbers on his screen? He felt he really needed to do something with those numbers, and in a burst of spontaneity, he did.
---
On the other side of the city, Elisha banged her head on the wheel of The Car. An hour. Nearly two. She spoke to him for all that time, and not once did she remember to ask the question she had originally sought him out to ask. God dammit.
Well, nothing else to it, then. She would have to give him a call. And tell him the only reason she wanted to talk to him in the first place was because of his friend. Double dammit.
She was still working herself up to having that conversation when her phone buzzed with a text message. Apparently, he got there first.
It read, [Are you free on Saturday? I have a couple tickets to Revenge of Marglath, and my friend couldn’t come after all.]
Huh, interesting. All she really knew about the movie in question was that it was a newly made blockbuster action film, the third in a series and starring an array of very expensive actors. There were posters of it everywhere, and she was reasonably sure it featured exploding planets. Very much not her usual fare. She usually went for romance movies.
Her phone buzzed again.
[Not that you have to or anything. I just happened to think of it is all.]
She was free that weekend. After all, she had planned to spend it trying to contact him. And this way, she would get a chance to bring up meeting his friend without sounding like a dick. Plus, no movie starring Jason DeMalkovich in a leading role could be all that bad.
[that sounds lovely :) ] she texted back. [when do we meet]