The Killer Bus of Kingsland North

Kingsland is full of many things, most of which you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley. Unfortunately for Kingslanders, the city-state is practically made of dark alleys. It's sometimes said that if you stretched out all of Kingsland's alleys and roads next to each other, the alleys would go further, but neither would get you far enough to escape whatever was chasing you. Because of the dangers lurking in the omnipresent alleys, Kingslanders try to stick to the city's labyrinthine public transit system, despite its sanity-defying complexity. Visitors are often surprised by such transit irregularities as subway tracks that spin the train in a barrel roll, a monorail track that loops Kingsland South but never in the same way twice, one road where the buses go off a ramp to avoid a chasm, and the strange phenomenon where the station bathroom stalls transport people to the Double-North Pole. Kingslanders are nothing if not resigned, however, and they bear this with faces hollow and spirits deflated.

But the transit system isn't always the safer option. The first "Killer Bus" incident occurred in AES 976. The doors on a bus in Kingsland North suddenly locked, and onlookers described the windows as being "instantly painted" with blood. In what Kingslanders call "a good day", the screaming was brief. The bus continued its route as normal, though few dared to board once they saw every surface on the inside covered in viscera. It is unknown whether the bus's driver was also killed, but a bus with no driver isn't even worth mentioning in Kingsland, so we don't know either way. Similar incidents continue to occur in Kingsland North, each time involving a slightly different method. The Killer Bus has protruded spikes, turned flat and fallen on top of passersby, transformed into a giant robot to fight another local horror, and driven straight into the river that divides the city in order to hit a passing Panark diplomatic envoy.

The Killer Bus's cult has grown to be one of the largest in Kingsland. In 986, on the anniversary of the first Killer Bus incident, the cult began rallying to elect the Killer Bus as the sovereign of Kingsland. This movement has gained popular appeal outside of the cult, as the citizens hope that the Killer Bus will be forced to leave Kingsland in order to attend sessions of the Disputatious Assembly of Sovereigns. Flandre has expressed support for the movement in recognition of the Killer Bus's aid in the success of NRP BX-392a. This support has more than one motive, though, as electing foreign threats to the Assembly to keep tabs on them is prescribed by NRP TX-43d.

In a happy example of partisan agreement, the Killer Bus's candidacy for sovereign is also supported by the Hegemony of Whales, for much the same reasons as its support for the fragmentation of the Very Definitely Independent States in the 30s. The mayor of Kingsland has expressed uncertainty as to the Killer Bus's candicacy: on one hand, the Bus would take up two rows of seats, giving Kingsland unprecedented voting power in the Disputatious Assembly; on the other hand, it would mean he would have to go back to living in Kingsland.

Citations: The Hegemony of Whales / The Very Definitely Independent States

In my personal opinion, the mayor should stop being such a sissy and move back. My neighbors got eaten by something last summer and the flat's been vacant long enough that I'm sure whatever did it has moved on. It's the least sacrifice he could make for his country. Over here in Kingsland South, we'd kill to get that many Assembly votes, and I can't imagine how the Northerners would feel to have the Killer Bus off the streets.

I've done some reading about the Killer Bus, and it's harrowing stuff. After the first incident, they removed it from the transit system. The next morning, there was an extra bus at the transit station and no one could figure out which one it was. After the next incident, they wrote down the serial number for each bus and then removed it again. Overnight, there was a different list of serial numbers in the handwriting of the manager who had originally written it, and the bus count was up by one again. They tried adding more measures the third time—cameras, locking the gate, caltrops on the road—but in the morning, the gate's technical log reported it was closed the whole evening, the caltrops were arranged into sanity-melting glyphs, and everyone who reviewed the camera feed instantly went mad.

And this time, the extra bus was parked... right... in... front... of the manager's office!

Chilling stuff! I told that story to my grandchildren the other week, both because they're adorable when they're scared, and also because it's never to early to learn to fear Kingsland.