Chapter Text
Ten Years ago…
The life of an engineering student was a rather binary one. Or at least, the life of one who intended to actually graduate, instead of getting the Dean’s Holiday after their second semester. Iskall could attest it well.
First, Study. Study, study, study, study so much you saw calculus behind your eyeballs and material stresses in your dreams and you were living on a mix of coffee with teabags thrown in and the tests had all started blurring into each other.
And then, the other state, the brief breaks between the walls of insanity, where most engineering students existed in a haze of alcohol and bad decisions.
Iskall was currently in that second state.
He staggered out of the pub, grinning hugely. There’d been a cute forensic pathology student at one of the tables - he’d gotten her number, and they’d hit it off. She’d only threatened to autopsy him twice, so this was already in his top three first dates, as far as Iskall was concerned. Her name was Stress.
Parked on the street outside was some guy he’d seen glimpses of in Intro to Electrical Engineering, and Iskall hadn’t seen him since- he was going into mechanical engineering, anyway, so that was hardly a surprise. The guy was hunched under the car’s hood, fiddling with something in the engine bay that had clearly broken down, and Iskall, with all the grace of the profoundly drunk, staggered over.
“Need some help?” he managed to slur out, and the guy glanced up.
He had a perfectly-combed moustache and a preposterous suit, and Iskall kind of wanted to give this guy a noogie and be his best friend forever. Kind of.
“Uh, yeah. Uh. I- my car broke down, and I- I just need to get it started- Hang on, have we met before?”
He shoved out a hand, which Iskall took and shook.
“Iskall.”
“Mumbo. Do you like cars, Iskall?”
He grinned.
“Dude, I LOVE cars.”
Now.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna do it anyway, and you’re not gonna stop me.”
“I know. You’re such an idiot. Break that record into a million pieces for me, and come back in one piece, you got that?”
Iskall chuckled into his phone, leaned against the brickwork.
“I will, Stress. You worry too much!”
“Uh, no, actually, I really really don’t. HOW FAST did you say you’d be going?!"
“Uh, you know. A speed. That is measured in numbers.”
The deafening silence on the other end of the phone had Iskall smiling weakly.
“If you come back in a box, I’ma learn necromancy and make you into a zombie so I can kill you again meself.”
“I won’t! My plane ticket’s already bought. I’ll see you at the airport, okay?”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Alright. Have fun, Iskall.” Stress sighed, and he chuckled.
“Oh, I will. I will.”
And with that, Stress hung up.
Iskall looked up, and grinned.
All around them, the New York traffic was ebbing- it was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, and the spot they were parked was rather out of the way. Mumbo had the hood on their car popped open, his sleeves rolled up past the elbows, fiddling with something- oh, the dipstick.
“Oil’s good,” he said, putting it back, “I checked the radiator and the wipers and the antifreeze-“
“My dude, we are going to California,” Ren said reasonably, emerging from down the street with two plastic bags bulging with groceries from a nearby bodega, “I’d chill on the antifreeze.”
“You can’t be too careful!” Mumbo protested, retracting the little wire hook that kept the hood up and closing it with a clunk, “Besides, aren’t there some mountains between Nevada and California?”
Iskall nodded, and then frowned.
“Like, I think they were…the Rockies? Or something?”
Ren sighed.
“Great. Peerless knowledge of the United States, my dudes. Peerless! And this, my dudes, is why I am navigating. Alright, enough wasting time. Mumbo! Is Doc’s- I mean, is MY new ride ready to go?”
Ren grinned, showing off his freakishly sharp teeth, and gestured with his two bags of snacks.
“It should be. The extra tanks are full, and I threw in two extra jerry cans for later. Iskall! What’s the results of your number crunch?” Mumbo asked, and Iskall blinked his eye owlishly.
“Uh, the results are, we’ll have to stop for petrol at…some point. Yes. Wait, why’d you ask ME to do the math? You know I need a calculator for adding five plus six.”
Mumbo groaned.
“Ren, just- get in the backseat. If we keep arguing we’ll never get going.”
“Yes sir!” Ren said sarcastically, saluting as he pulled the handle on the two-door muscle car he’d purchased from Doc, for the princely sum of one American dollar.
Their chariot for this outing was a heavily-modified Dodge Demon, painted bright green (“Oh, that’ll be inconspicuous,” Iskall had scoffed,) and done up to have a roll cage, passenger seat, and backseat. Oh, and two massive auxiliary fuel tanks in the trunk, to provide extra gas for the thirsty engine. Ren had to yank the lever to shove the driver’s seat forward to crawl into the back, and then yank it back into place once he’d stuffed himself and their provisions away.
“Right,” Mumbo clapped a hand on Iskall’s shoulder, “You’re up for the first leg.”
“Me? Why me?” Iskall protested, even as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started adjusting his position. He slammed the door and started adjusting the mirrors, making sure everything was to his liking.
“Because,” Mumbo said a second later, climbing in after him, “You’re the only one used to driving on the wrong side of the road. So until we’re to…where was it, Ren?”
“Hang on, I got the map…like…Missouri, I think?” Ren spread out a folding map that took up a huge amount of the backseat, “Yeah, like… there. Look, just use the GPS. This thing’s just a backup anyway.”
Ren carefully folded the map away, and Iskall rested his palm on the shift stick.
“So. Mumbo. This is your show. What’s our plan? Completely, from the top, so we’re all on the same page.” Iskall looked at him expectantly, as did Ren.
“Right. So, since you know how to drive on the wrong side of the road-“
“-Dude, it’s the CORRECT side of the road. The Americans are right-“
“-Whatever. So you’ll handle the coasts where there’s a ton of people. When we clear this part, I’ll take over for the middle of the country. And we’ll switch back when we’re over that mountain range in California and you’ll take us the last leg of the journey.”
Iskall nodded.
“Well, guess that’s that. Gentlemen!” Ren announced, removing three cans from the depths of the bag, “Can I interest you two in a drink before we depart?”
“Sure. I mean, we haven’t started the timer yet.” Iskall reached back and grabbed a can of energy drink, as did Mumbo.
“Here’s to a safe trip!” Ren cackled, and Iskall and Mumbo nodded.
All three cracked their cans, and took a swig.
“That’s bloody awful. We’re getting some champagne in California.” Mumbo grunted, dropping his can in a cupholder in the door.
“Well, it’s the best we’ve got. So. Yeah.” Ren sighed, “Anyway, are we gonna get going, or are we just gonna sit here arguing for the rest of time?”
“We’re going.” Iskall turned the key, and their bright green Demon roared to life. Over a thousand horsepower at his fingertips, and he couldn’t help an evil little snicker.
Mumbo reached up to the dash and switched on all their various equipment. Police scanner. Heat camera tied to the passenger wing mirror. CB radio that Ren would be operating. They had a ton of equipment crammed into that car, and it was time to get this sorry show on the road.
The final thing rested where the CD player had once been, and Mumbo’s thumb hesitated over the button.
“Are we ready?” he asked, and Iskall and Ren nodded.
“Do it.”
Mumbo jabbed the button in the middle of the timer, and it snapped to life.
“LET’S GO!” Iskall shouted, putting the car in gear and leaping out of their parking spot.
And the green Demon sped away from the Redball Garage, as noon crept towards New York City.
The GPS was good- very good. A preprogrammed route that it was following slavishly, guiding them out of NYC. But considering the place was absolutely swarming with police, and more importantly, other drivers, Iskall was taking it pretty slow. Extricating themselves from the concrete canyons was one of the slow points on their mad dash to the Pacific.
“Oh for god’s sake,” He growled, as a red light flashed up in their faces, and he eased the Demon to a stop, “If this keeps up, we’re gonna miss our flight, dudes.”
“Well, yeah. But we’ll make up for it in the desert and on the plains.” Mumbo pointed out, fiddling with his phone, “I’m looking at a map of America now, so I think we can switch over a lot earlier than I was planning.”
“Actually,” Ren spoke up, “While we’re, uh, you know, still law-abiding citizens and all that, I was wondering. Should we name the car?”
Iskall and Mumbo both blinked, Iskall’s bionic whirring as it rendered a ‘blink’.
“I mean,” Mumbo said slowly, “We probably should. Bad luck to go to sea on a nameless ship.”
“I’m good with that. So, it’s green. Uhh…the Leaf?” Iskall suggested as the light went green, too.
He took off, and Mumbo scratched his chin.
“No, no. It’s a…Dodge Demon. It’s a demon…it’s….”
All three men grinned at the same time.
“IMPULSE!” they bellowed in unison, and they all burst out laughing.