While one never gets used to it, a certain sort of normality eventually develops around persistent haunting, in that after the first couple of times of a ghost girl randomly showing up to scare the shit out of you while in a compromised position the unreal edge gets taken off as you learn to accept the fact that this is in fact happening. However, just when adapting to the existence of Alma had started to sink in, the man on point discovered that the universe could still throw him a total screwball.
Which was to say that while the latest appearance of Alma wasn't unusual per se, the appearance out of thin air of a 1973 Volkswagen Type 2 complete with air brush art that appeared to have been done by Has Rudolf Giger while on a bad acid trip and listening to Finnish death metal was. As was the subsequent ramming and running over of said previously mentioned ghost by said van. Then, to add to the surreal air of it all, a pair of men dressed like a cross between ancient Egyptian pharaohs and the Blues Brothers hopped out of the van and began to wail on the undead girl with tire irons, splattering ethereal blood everywhere for the complete opposite reason to the one normally associated with such manifestations.
While one of the men hopped back into the van, the darker skinned of the two turned to the point man and pointed an accusing finger at him, screeching, "Your mother is a buzz killing whore!" before he too re-entered the van, which drove off into thin air as abruptly as it arrived.
On the ground, Alma twitched, in considerably more pain than she had ever experienced in her existence, which was really saying something. It wasn't every day that two deities pulled a hit and run beat down on her after all.
"Ah cathartic violence, how I love thee," Tzintchi noted gleefully while driving through the void between realities, which currently had the background theme of 'Wyoming'.
"You are a bad influence on me Tzintchi; a bad, bad influence," Nyarlathotep notes while leaning back in his chair, which was of course lined with rich Corinthian leather.
"Hey, I'm corrupting a fundamental component of the universe, haven't done that yet today," Tzintchi notes with a grin.
"Laugh it up you barely evolved uplifted monkey, if I hadn't been so damned bored when we first met I could have swatted you like a flea," Nyarlathotep notes.
"Which is why I grabbed the Trinity Spear; just in case we meet a less diplomatic version of you in our wanderings," Tzintchi notes, glancing into the back of the van, which aside from his Eva, carried a considerable amount of other weapons and artefacts gathered from the multiverse and shoved into the space that was considerably larger on the inside than the outside.
Grumbling, Nyarlathotep notes, "Cheating bastard, plundering shit that hasn't even made it out of design yet, let alone alpha."
"Technically the place I got it from built it billions of years ago; it just has not even been foreshadowed yet anywhere else, if ever. Ah well, I got a lot of other stuff on the looting run, like the unfinished scripts in the glove compartment," Tzintchi notes, pointing to the relevant hatch.
Pulling it open, Nyarlathotep flips through a few pages before sputtering, "How many battleships?"
Snickering, Tzintchi says, "Enough that you would have paid premium for front row seats of the Migou collectively shitting themselves in terror… or whatever their equivalent is… at the sight of that many warships capable of pounding the planetoid to dust individually, let alone in duelling fleets."
Cackling, Nyarlathotep flips through while chuckling. "A Stormblade? Awesome."
"That's what I like about you Gnarly, you don't take sides; you just like to see everyone else get dicked over. Now, I might have a side by default, but its good to see someone who can appreciate anyone, even the stupid monkeys, getting in a good lick now and then," Tzintchi notes appreciatively.
"You're all equally beneath me… although in your case, you're more equal than others," Nyarlathotep notes with a shrug before pulling out a folded piece of paper that looked like a map. "What's this?" He asks. Being outside of his own universe could get annoying since he lacked a lot of his power and knowledge, but this road trip had the potential to be highly amusing.
"Plot map that I technically stole from myself… its one of those things with time and what-not that I know you understand so I won't explain. It shows various places and times in the multiverse relevant to our journey, but often only tangentially or parallel to our path," Tzintchi explains.
Looking over the folded out map and the stars drifting within, connected by bits of astral spider silk, Nyarlathotep traces out a few before his eyes expression goes so slack with shock his glasses fall off his face. Slamming on the breaks, Tzintchi pulls the map out of hands of the Soul of the Outer Gods and looks over before his expression becomes a similar mirror.
"Okay… so just knowing my own version, even if that is an alternate continuity and potential future, we have to check that out… even if I am a little terrified," Tzintchi notes.
Stunned, Nyarlathotep notes, "The one I met was much more… energetic."
"Bets on whether the universe will be dead or teeming with life, if all of it utterly insane?" Tzintchi asks.
"Too close to call, I'm having a hard time picturing a set of physical laws durable enough for that," Nyarlathotep mutters.
Nodding, Tzintchi picks up his sunglasses and says, "Alright then, first official stop of the trip is to see Reilathotep."