Short Bus

Not In Service

Honestly I was never a man prone  to violence. At the same time, I was never a man to remain passive and allow wrongs to continue.

It was another day like many others, and I found myself on a ground based station transport while the maglev train was undergoing repairs. It was taking much longer than the train to travel by transport, and people’s temperaments were a little less than pleasant.  Did I mention the environmental controls within the transport were malfunctioning? It was not a pleasant trip to say the least.

We would pick up and let off passengers at temporary stops that had been created near the regularly scheduled train platforms, and it was at one of these stops that the trouble began. A large, wide shouldered Brutor stomped heavily up the steps at the front of the transport, which is what initially caught my eye. He was tattooed in the way that the younger generation preferred, though to me it was an insult to our heritage. He had piercings all throughout his face. He was not an attractive boy by any means, but carried himself in that way that suggested he thought he was the greatest thing to exist in the universe.  We seemed to have stopped here longer than usual, so I let myself focus in on the heated conversation between the driver of the transport and the Brutor thug.

“I don’t have exact fare which is why I’m asking you to help me out.” the thug repeated to the driver.

“We do not provide change. Either pay the fare or get off the transport.” the driver replied evenly.

“Man, what the fuck is your problem? You hating on Brutor?” the thug replied with rising ire, playing the race card early in the game.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” the driver replied, though a slight nervousness in his voice betrayed his position. He had already given up alpha to the thug.

“I’ve been waiting for hours and need to get home. No way I’m getting off this box.” the thug insisted.

I stood up, moving towards the front of the transport. He was thicker and taller than me, but I was an immortal and had the most important advantage of all … experience.

“There a problem here, son?” I asked.

“I am not your son, old man, and this is not your fucking business.” he spat at me. I wasn’t surprised given the amount of metal in his mouth. It almost seemed like he had a speech impediment because of it. I tried not to giggle.

“He doesn’t have the fare. ” the driver said.

“Shut the fuck up. Nobody was even talking to you.” he said as he came closer to the driver, hovering over him as a show of intimidation. I chuckled at the pathetic display.

“You think this is funny?” he replied, turning his attention to me. “You wanna have a go at me? I will fucking destroy you.” he said, rolling his shoulders, bringing his full attention to bear.

“Actually, yeah. I do.” I replied, pointing over his shoulder. “But let’s do this out there.” I gave him my nastiest scowl, not blinking, letting him know I was not going to be a push over.

“You are so fucking dead. You crazy ass …” I stopped listening to his string of profanities as he turned and got off the bus.

I walked the final few steps to the front and put my hand on the driver’s shoulder. “Drive.” I said. He didn’t need to be told twice. He closed the transport doors and we left. We could hear the thug screaming, swearing and banging on the transport as we pulled away.

He was quickly drowned out by the sound of applause as I returned to my seat.

It’s all about experience.

3 responses to “Short Bus

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