"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost."
― J.R.R. Tokien
Over and Under and Over Again...
The tour bus continued to travel at a high rate of speed down I-70 through Kansas, Missouri, and Indiana. It seemed like in no time at all they will be crossing the border and entering Ohio. They all remained quite silent during the trip after their small encounter with law enforcement, amazed that the officers were easily done away with by the good Doctor. The old man always seemed to have a plan, the Bartender thought to himself.
The bus was getting a bit low on fuel and the party decided as a group that the next exit would be the best place to stop to refuel. It was only a few short miles away and hopefully it would get them at least through Ohio and most of the way through Pennsylvania. The lute player turns the wheel and steers the bus down the off ramp and onto a smaller highway in search of a gas station. In the distance a large "Exxon" sign becomes visible reaching high in the sky towards the heavens.
"Bingo!"
The lute player exclaims to the rest of the party behind him. The Bartender stands up from behind the little bar in the back of the bus and speaks out,
"You bastards better behave yourselves up here. Not another episode from back in Kansas, please."
Nearly every member from the party gathers as much trash up around them as they can and throw it at the Bartender. He throws up his hands and shields himself from bottles, beer cans, plates, glasses, and you name it.
A few miles down the road they pull into the gas station and all exit the bus. A few go inside for a few supplies, a few others use the facilities as needed, and the lute player begins filling the tour bus up with fuel. The Bartender remains inside the bus and has a quick drink himself before cleaning up the mess the party provided. He looks outside every few minutes to reassure that none of his new friends were carrying on like they did before, and to reassure they didn't have any unexpected company again.
Meanwhile, inside the station the two flute players gather up potato chips and other snacks to take with them onto the bus. They carry an arm full of goodies up to the counter and set them down in front of the clerk. The clerk is a younger looking gentleman with short, spiked blonde hair with piercings in more places in his face than not. He begins ringing them up.
"You dudes with the bus?"
"That we are!"
The one flute player speaks up.
"You guys a band or something?"
The clerk counts in his head how many members of the party are wandering aimlessly through the store, how many are waiting in line to relieve themselves, and of course the two or three that remained outside.
"Or an orchestra maybe? What's the deal?"
"Nay. A band we are!"
The other flute player speaks up.
"You guys know there's a big battle of the bands up the road just outside of Wheeling? It's an outside show, which I'm not sure who the fuck in their right mind would go, but it's there."
Another battle of the bands? How is it the party hasn't heard of this?
"We'll be sure to check it out!"
"Yes! It should be on the way!"
The excited flute players gather up their supplies after paying the clerk and exit the station. They nearly sprint across the parking lot back to the bus, eager to share the news with their fellow companions.
"Well, what kind of battle of the bands?"
The lute player says back to them afterward.
"Um. He didn't say."
"Yeah, he didn't specify."
"Well, before we show up at some show don't you think we should find out what kind of show it is?"
"How bad could it be?"
The party all gather back on the bus and they continue down the road. Who in their right mind would have a show outside at this time of year? It's nearly twenty degrees during the day, even colder at night, and the way this area has been getting pounded with snow... Either way, the show peaked enough of the party's interest that whoever was against stopping lost the vote. It didn't take long to find, signs posted ten miles away from the event led them to it easily. The took the first entrance they found and started towards it. Several different workers their in large fluorescent yellow coats waved them in and pointed them towards the stage. The tour bus must have been a bit deceiving to them, and unknowingly, the party were headed towards the main stage of a very large punk rock festival.
High up on the lawn stands the Doctor watching the tour bus park behind the main stage in front of thousands of shirtless, drunk, high, screaming punk rockers. The Doctor enjoys a cigar as he watches the punks puke and beat on each other. He looked a bit out of place in his white suit, not to mention the rest of his appearance, but no one around him seemed to notice him.
Hello, my friends.
Mister Fernando, I'm hurt. I truly am. You've fallen into the same trend that nearly everyone in this fine federation has, the insults. Stupid? Imbecile? Come now, friend, when did we resort to name calling? Have my words crawled under your skin so much that you must resort to insulting me? Honestly. I figured you'd take this session far more seriously than you actually are. I figured that you would actually look at me as a stepping stone to greatness here in the XWF. Unfortunately, I don't believe you see it that way. I know you've called me your next 'stepping stone'. But I just don't feel your passion. All you've done lately is get frustrated with me while I contradict myself over and over again and fail to provide you with any excuses to why I never defend my title. Let me just shine a little, tiny bit more light on that.
You are aware that I'm still the champion, correct? Would a stupid man throw himself out there each and every week to defend one of his prized possessions? Would an imbecile? I never once refused a challenge when it was placed in front of me, I simply waited for them to come. As you know, I was placed in the match a few weeks back against Maverick, Ferrarri Punk, and TJ Wallace. Well, that one was up to our wonderful GMs. So, one talley. Another, Mister Pest actually did confront me about. I gladly accepted, of course, he wanted the match a little sooner than I wished, but we came to terms and well, I still have the title. To be honest, I wasn't going to bother with another match until I was asked again. Luckily, you stepped up to the plate immediately. One of the subjects you just seem so frustrated with me over is that I don't understand why you gave up your shot at the Television Title. I'll admit, friend. I don't understand. You have in your mind that this title has no prestige or challenge to holding what-so-ever. Why is that? I don't believe your in much condition to be worrying about any other titles these days. You said yourself you've already been in the running for the Universal Title and the Prophetic Title. You've obviously failed at both because, well, you don't have them. That's a perfect reason to just jump right into another one.
It's good to hear that you're excited that I've accepted your challenge. You realize why I didn't accept the challenge right away, correct? It's because you were so confident that whether or not I accepted it or not, you were coming for me regardless. I was actually a bit intrigued by that statement. I was very curious to see how you would've gone about that. If it wasn't for me accepting my challenge, you would have either never been booked for Madness, or placed in a match with no relevance. Then you have the challenging match on Warfare against someone you've apparently already taken care of, Cain. Well, let me just say, neither of those scenarios would have gotten you closer to my title. Cain's time here exceeds his talents by a long shot. The same goes for you. The small bit of 'research' I did wasn't very taxing at all, by the way, even an imbecile could do it.
Now, that I think about it...
When did you even face Cain?
Prophetic Title match... Loss. Justin Sane... Loss. Ghost Tank... Win. Ladder match... Win. Am I right? Ah... Forget it. Forget I brought it up. It doesn't matter anyway does it? Forget our pasts! The future! Now, we're talking. Mister Fernando you seem quite confident in your future here in this fine organization. You cry out over and over again your plans and the paved road you have ahead of you. Relieving me of my duties once and for all as the X-Treme Champion! Tell me though. How could I possibly have the strength to kick out over fifty times and defend my title against any challenger who has the gull to step up and challenge me, if all this title has done is worn me down? If anything, I feel it has made me much stronger. I earned my place on top of this mountain, my friend. There isn't a person in the XWF that would argue otherwise. Well, minus you, of course. The rookie that seems to know all about the place apparently. I have a feeling I'm not going to be the last one to take your foot and shove it in your mouth. You're extremely confident after accomplishing nothing here. Except for that territory you've already seen, correct? Including challenging for the Universal Title. Speaking of contradictions. Hm. What are your plans after you become X-Treme Champion then? Sit on the title like I'm doing? Defending it bi-weekly, or weekly for that matter? That's a good advertisement for yourself. With all of the changes going on in the federation these days, I suppose I can see that. Perhaps you might even see more of the Doctor defending his X-Treme Title on Madness. So, if anything, I should thank you for bringing me back.
Say, you do beat me for the title on Madness. Say, you are crowned the X-Treme Champion. Do you honestly believe you will succeed? I know for the past month here I've made it look quite easy being the champion, do you think you will repeat the same fate? I'm kicking out less and less these days. Everyone in the XWF realizes that there is no one here that can come at me and forcefully take this title from me. I will defend it and I will kick out of the 24/7 pin attempts until I decide that my time as the XWF X-Treme Champion is over. Which would most likely be the result of a cash-in. You seem to think of me as a joke, do you not? Why would I possibly hold onto this title and this briefcase to simply cash in on a lesser title than the Universal Title. Is it fear? It would be hard to convince myself or anyone else of that... Maybe I'd rather name my own title! Or maybe the Television Title that you think means absolutely nothing. A title is a title, my friend. Do not start picking and choosing what types of opportunities you're taking. I wouldn't say I'm obsessed with the fact you turned down the Titlevision Title shot. You earned the shot. You deserve it! I said jump and you asked me 'how high'. What do I need to do to get a shot at the title. Please Doctor, tell me what Austin Fernando has to do to prove to you that I'm able to compete for the X-Treme Championship!
Just so we're clear, I understand you weren't intersted in the Triple Threat Match that was originally booked. Our bargain was you giving up the Television Title shot you have recently earned. All together. It's gone. If I see you competing for that same title in a few weeks after you lose our bout, I'll be personally responsible for your downfall. Taking nothing away from Jacob, of course, who will surely defeat the Knight and continue to be the XWF's Television Champion.
What you fail to realize Mister Fernando is that I'm not stuck on the loss with Jacob. I've come to believe that he belongs to be the Television Champion. Forever. No one can beat him for that title just as no one can beat me for the X-Treme Title. Perhaps Jacob comes up a lot in our conversations because he does hold the single true win over me. You probably wouldn't understand since you've doubled the amount of times actually lost. At the point when you have have the same amout of time in this fine federation as I do, you'll have plenty to talk about with your new opposition. Your couple wins and your many losses. It's a good thing you don't get stuck on your losses. Adapt and overcome, correct? The countless amount of times your destined to fail in the future is obvious with your overwhelming amount of confidence. It only makes sense that you'd believe that your going to defeat the Doctor this Monday. A Last Man Standing Match of all things. How fantastic is that? The first man to not respond to a ten count will be counted down and out! No submissions! No pinfalls! I've never been in this type of match before. I'm looking forward to it though! I'm never placed in interesting matches it seems...
Is this your first one on one? Oh, no. No, no. I apologize. There I go again, lying to you all again. This is your third one on one. Your first was Justin Sane, correct? Quote, unquote, in the running for the Universal Title. I looked a bit closer to that match and it wasn't even for contendership. It was a match to decide WHO would contend for the title. So, I wouldn't say you were as close to the title as you said you were. It seems to me that after you tested the waters up there just a little bit, that was what made you reconsider where you stand here in the XWF. You feel higher than the Television Title but less than the Universal Title. You second match was against Ghost Tank. This one you prevailed! Unfortunately, considering the competition, I'm not so impressed. A lot of fellows have defeated Ghost Tank. I think Mister Tank is just a bit confused is all. He was once an unstoppable machine, but lately has failed to show us his juggernaut ways.
You are aware it is my job to do this research, correct? Mocking the fact of me doing so just sounds ridiculous, my friend. I am your doctor and you, Mister Fernando, are my patient. Just as everyone else prior to you, I'll do everything I can to help you tackle any of those pesky little demons crawling in your head. And just like everyone prior to you, you're failing to accept te fact you need a boost. I'm not in the XWF to necessarily 'cure' anyone. If the help is needed, I'm here to provide it. A friend indeed, Mister Fernando. Be sure to at least listen to all of those words that you're saving now to throw back at me come Monday.
The party all exit the tour bus and line up outside. A man wearing a headset approaches the group and looks down the line as if he was counting them all in his head.
"What's this?! Who are you guys supposed to be?!"
"We are the Dangerous Minstrels!"
The banjo player speaks up. He looks across the group and they all nod in approval. The man you is apparently the stage manager looks down a clipboard he's holding. About half way down he starts shaking his head.
"I don't see you guys are here. What are you doing here?"
The party looks at each other and shrug. From behind the group ascends the Bartender.
"You serious? We traveled across the country for this show and you don't recognize these guys?"
"You're not on the list to play. I'm not sure what to tell you. And who are you?!"
"I'm there manager!"
The minstrels looks among each other and nod in approval once again.
"And I'm disgusted that we show up here and you have no idea what to do with us. I told you we shouldn't have wasted our time with this show boys!"
"I thought our show was in--"
The bass player speaks up.
Intact! Exactly! I thought it was too! I'll tell you buddy, this will be the last time we visit this festival!
The Bartender hears a voice to his right that nearly scares him out of his skin. He looks over and the Doctor is standing next to him with a smile stretched across his face.
"Now who's this guy?!"
Allow me to introduce myself, the name is Doctor Louis D'Ville, my friend. Producer.
"Alright, alright!"
The stage manager pulls back his headset and looks over his clipboard again.
"This is my first show and I don't want anything screwed up guys. But seriously, the only time I have for you is... right now."
The Doctor laughs aloud and the minstrels look among each other wide-eyed.
They begin pulls their equipment from the bus and loading it all up behind the large curtain behind the main stage. After they're sure their instruments are all in-tune and they are all in place the curtain drops and thousands of multi-colored mowhawks are revealed to the party. A rainbow of color stretches across the crowd in front of them.
Without hesitation, they begin rocking the faces off of those mowhawks.
During their song the crowd goes completely insane. Mosh pits turn into actual fights. The fights turn into riots. The minstrels continue to play as security is overtaken by the mob and the mowhawks begin to bleed onto the stage. As the first pink mowhawk reaches the leader of the minstrels, he pulls back and punches the pink mowhawk directly in the face. A green mowhawk approaching the lute player meets the lute player's lute across the face. It shatters into pieces and explodes across the stage. Another green mowhawk gets thrown from the stage from the two flute players. The music has obviously stopped and the minstrels begin to take retreat from the back of the stage.
Backstage, the Bartender sees the mob taking over the stage and his party leading them straight for the bus. All fourteen of them rush onto the bus as they are chased by thousands of mowhawks. The lute player searches around for the keys before realizing he doesn't have them. A purple mowhawk begins climbing up the side of the bus while the others surround it and begin pushing it side-to-side.
"A brilliant idea, Bartender!"
"Indeed!"
"Are you trying to get us all killed?!"
All of the minstrels begin to gang up and point the blame at the Bartender for getting them into this mess to begin with. It wasn't HIS idea to stop here! What did they expect?! It seemed like they wanted to play!
The Bartender looks outside and sees the Doctor across the lawn standing among several bikers. The Doctor still with a smile ear to ear!
He looks up and notices a fire escape on the roof of the bus!
"Quickly minstrels! Out the fire escape!"
One by one the minstrels climb the mini ladder out onto the roof of the bus. The punk mob on the outside still shake the bus back and forth trying to tip it over. Once all of the minstrels reach the roof they all line up across it.
"Alright! All together now!"
All fourteen members of the party jump over the mob turning over the bus and land with a roll onto the ground. They all sprint as fast as they can towards the biker gang all parked up by the Doctor.
Say hello to the "Great Eagles", my friends! They'll be our ride from here out!
Each minstrel falls into place with their own designated biker. The Doctor is already sitting cockpit with one of the others in a cab off to the right of the leader of the biker group. With no bikers left, the Bartender hops on the back of his bike and they all kick up dust as they leave the scene. The mowhawk army follows them as far as they can on foot before the bikers are out of sight.
All that is left for the party is crossing the mountains and their journey is nearly complete.
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