Prompt:

Finally your character arrives at the train station, but unfortunately all the seats are full. You meet Mr. Dev, who is the train driver. Your character is very thirsty and Mr. Dev gives them a drink. Any supernatural powers and abilities they have now no longer work and will not work during the contest. When your character knocks on the train window he growls and orders them to go away. Your character protests and soon he realises they need a seat on the train. He tells your character to make him laugh using strange items in a box he gives them.

Your items are...
- A life sized bow up doll of Donald J. Trump
- A box of rotten eggs
- A pair of dirty underpants
- A toilet brush
- A jar of anchovies

* * * * *

Meixong braced their arm against the seat in front of them once again as the bus slowed to a rough stop. Have they arrived? Out the other window, they could see a raised platform where people milled about, a metal canopy above, and what looked to be several buses linked together on the other side of it. No, they haven't arrived. This was a transfer of some sort.

Either way, they knew they had to get onto the linked-buses. So, they got up along with the rest, waiting until a space cleared. As quickly as they could, they retrieved their briefcase from up above—they had put it back about an hour into the trip after the rough start threw it down—but just as they turned to begin walking up the bus, they startled back. The bus driver stood before them, as cruel-looking as ever.

"Drink it."

Before they could process what 'it' was, a glass of what looked to be water was shoved into their face, causing them to jump back again.

"...What is it?"

The bus driver did not like that answer, growling out, "I said drink it."

Meixong made a quick assessment of the situation. Beyond the bus driver, they could see the others rushing off the bus, some without a glance. Fair enough, and it was probably for the best. It was the others who still stood behind them they worried about. Some looked like they could put up a good fight, but the rest were just common people. Luckily, to get to them, the bus driver would have to go through them first, and they began coming up with if-then scenarios. If the bus driver attacked, they had their briefcase and their own personal skills to protect themself and the others. A good punch to the neck would take down any man. If the bus driver lets them pass, they will move on as if nothing happened. To check the others' safety was to bring attention to them, and in all of Meixong's training, you never brought attention to the ones you were trying to protect. As long as the bus driver's eyes were on them, they could handle it.

"No, I do not think I will." Meixong slowly pushed the glass away from their face. "But thank you."

Without another word, the bus driver dropped the cup, causing its contents to spill all over Meixong. The glass clamored and bounced around on the ground before rolling somewhere under the seats. As if nothing happened, the bus driver turned around and exited the bus.

"Investigator!" the woman who had been helping them all this time—Meixong told her to call them investigator since they disliked sir and ma'am—exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Meixong waved off her concern, brushing off stray droplets of water from their suit jacket. "It's just water. Unless it was rice wine, then I would've drank it."

With that minor fiasco now dealt with, they got off the bus and headed to the next area. More benches lined the edges of the platform where people sat, all against a fence that guarded the perimeter. All except the side where the linked-buses were stationed. Instead, there were bright yellow lines painted on the ground, probably there to indicate and warn others that the platform ended there.

"What's this one called? Just more buses?" Meixong asked the woman who still followed them closely. This didn't bother them really, and it wasn't all that unusual either. It was just human nature to associate yourself with what you perceived as safe, and Meixong was no stranger to acting as a protector.

"This is a train, actually. It does look like many buses put together though, doesn't it."

Meixong only hummed in reply as they both headed toward the train. By this point, Meixong had stopped questioning the strange impulse to continue on this trail. It wasn't as if they had anything better to do or any other ideas on how to get home. And they really hoped that this was happening on some separate timeline. As the Head of Information, they couldn't afford to be away from the war for this long. That, and they could slowly feel all parts of magic fade away from their being. Wherever they were, there was no magic to be absorbed, and they had used the last of it fixing that disc.

Where am I even in time and space? Am I in the future or in a completely different realm? Or maybe this is—Meixong was unceremoniously ripped from their thoughts as the train doors suddenly slid shut. The woman stood inside, her hands pressed against the window as she tried to open it in vain. Meixong must have let them board first—heels are a menace—but why on earth had the doors shut? Their instincts practically wailed at them about how they needed to be on this exact train, but how?

"Bet you're wondering why the doors are shut," a gruff voice to their right said, and they turned their head to look. It was the bus driver, the top half of his robust body leaning out a window lined in red. Meixong grit their teeth.

"Yeah, I am. You wouldn't happen to have something to do with it though, right?"

Without any warning, the bus driver threw a brown box at them. Meixong stumbled back, dropping their briefcase when the box collided with their chest and barely managed to catch it. They ducked out of the way as another object was thrown at their head. As they righted themself, a taunting, rough laugh reached their ears.

"Make me laugh," the bus driver ordered, and Meixong sent them a hard glare.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He slapped the side of the train. "The only way I'll let you aboard this here train is if you make me laugh. And I don't mean some half-hearted chuckle, I want you to prove how much you want to complete this challenge. In that box are a few...items to give you some inspiration. That, and good ol' Mr. Trump there."

What—is this because I didn't drink a damn glass of water?! "Who the hell do you think you are—"

"I'm your ticket out, and you got a minute to get started."

As much as their pride screamed in outrage, Meixong willed themself to relax. They were starting to understand the nature of this world now. Play the game, get your reward. In this case, the reward was progression, and hopefully, that reward would turn into their way home.

"Only a minute? Way to give time for a last-minute comedy routine," Meixong quipped, carefully setting down the box that smelled fouler by the minute. They didn't exactly want to look at what was inside it at that moment, so instead, they turned their attention to the...actually, they didn't know what it was. When they picked it up, it was light and the surface was smooth. It was in the shape of a body with some stout man with light blonde hair and oddly orange skin painted onto the front. While it was in hand, they decided to start with the strange doll-thing.

"I have no idea who this is, but—" they propped the doll-thing next to the window the bus driver peeked out from, "I can really see the resemblance! A handsome, handsome man this one. An orange one, but who doesn't love oranges. Delicious fruits that are plentiful in nutrients. Or are there no oranges in this world? I have no clue at this point."

Meixong continued talking in a candid tone as they began rummaging through the box. "I'm just gonna leave that there as I look through this box of goodies. An enrapturing scent, by the way. You should get a whiff of this." They stopped short and briefly pulled a look of disgust as they pulled out what looked to be soiled undergarments. "...This explains a lot. But this may actually be a benefit!"

Without any explanation, they slid the underwear over the doll-thing's flimsy legs.

"You're going to need these, pseudo-Mr. Bus Driver—what did you call it? Mr. Tramp or something?—Either way, shitting yourself laughing is a guarantee on this platform, so I hope this helps with any further mess. But it'd be much better if the real deal wore it himself, but no matter. It serves the same purpose in my mind and is an incredible visual."

"Now, onto—ok, now I really don't know what this is or what it's for," Meixong picked up a blue and white stick with stiff and prickly bristles at one end, "so I'm just gonna consider this an extension of my arm."

To prove their point, they did a few sword forms—perhaps a bit more aggressively than they should've since the brush-thing was much lighter than a sword—before looking through the box again, this time finding the real culprit of the obnoxious scent.

"Rotten eggs, huh? How long have you had them in there to get to this state?" A few had broken in their carton—probably because the box was thrown—and they picked up one of the intact ones to inspect. They had waded through warzones and knew the stench of bodies rotting in the sun; something as little as a few rancid eggs barely phased them. "Honestly I'm a little impressed by this feat."

"But I think it's time to wrap this up, Mr. Bus Driver. What do you think?" They threw an egg by the door. "This is actually quite cathartic, why don't you give it a try?" Another egg smashed against the wall. "Maybe I could make this thing dance if its legs ever moved by itself." Three more struck around the doll-thing. "Actually, this is kind of fun!" They threw two eggs up in the air at the same time, effortlessly striking them midair with the brush-thing. A laugh bubbled out of them.

Before anyone could react, they scooped up the last item from the box and hurled it through the air. It shattered just above where the bus driver stood, raining down glass shards and what looked to be small fish. If it weren't for the window opening outward, all that would have landed on the bus driver.

Marching up to the platform's edge, Meixong grabbed the largest glass shard they could see, ignoring how it bit into their hand. It was as if they were running on autopilot. They had no real reason to do so, but in one swift, practiced movement, they stabbed the shard into the doll-thing's forehead. It hissed and began to deflate, and oh, how they wished that face was the one in the window.

Meixong gave themself a few seconds of reveling before they shook their hand of the blood that dripped down it, and in a grandiose gesture, they turned to the bus driver and gave a graceful bow, brush-thing and all.

"And that is my immensely satisfying end to this comedy act! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."