The Forgotten Zodiac

((No, but your best friend can be a 'brother' to you. I have a sister who I met when I was five, and she isn't related to me in any way. That's creepy, Quinn.))

After about forty-five minutes, they reached the city. Michael began leading them toward where he thought the T.V. station was.

((Hurrdeehurr, that does make sense. :T

And she's just curious. You can't blame her, they did all that stuff to her.))

"Where are we going?" Werr asked. "This looks like the direction of the TV station. That's not where we should be going, unless we intend to ask where that live showing was taking place. Which, that boy would be stupid to stay there, you know..."

"Maybe we should send our own broadcast?" Quinn suggested. "See if we can send a message somehow? A meeting place?"

((It's still creepy. I'm glad that makes sense to you.))

"We could. The way I see it, if he sent out a message on that show, he'll have left a way for us to reply. We need to do the same thing he did, leave a way for him to meet us, and then go."

"Well, okay then. Let's go hijack some broadcasting equipment!" Quinn giggled at the thought of being on TV for the first and possibly last time ever.

"It makes sense," Werr admitted. "What message should we leave, then? It can't be something as stupid as 'the park at high noon'. The Iyoui and James would find us far too easily."

"Not to mention every other agent in the city." Michael muttered. "Maybe tell him to meet us somewhere really crowded and then we could use our powers to help him find us?"

"Sounds good enough to me," Quinn nodded.

"Yes, although I don't think crowds would deterr the Iyoui and James. The other agents, perhaps, but those two are a serious threat right now." Werr spoke up.

"Would he smell like anything in particular?" Sylas asked.

"I dunno. He wasn't born gifted, so he might not smell any different than a normal human being, to you." Werr answered.

The boy who had done the broadcast was now curled up in an alley. His name was Subject 56, as determined by the scientists that changed him. He didn't remember his real name. Subject was just fine, he had decided. He was still wearing the sunglasses and hoodie, but he took them off when he realized they were still on. His eyes were silver, he had small black horns poking out from silver-colored hair. A small grayish tail was curled around him slightly, pointed on one end, like a devil's tail.

Side effects of the countless experiments run on him. Another side effect would be his constant cough; whenever he stopped talking for more than a minute, he coughed erratically, sometimes having fits. He wasn't all too sure why. Well, one way or another, he was hoping that someone would see his broadcast, but he hadn't gotten the chance to give his location before they cut him off. Unfortunately...he'd just have to wait to see how things went.

He then started coughing uncontrollably, doubling over as he tried to stop, wishing he could just force himself to stop and just be done with it.

A young man, between Werr and Michael in age, was walking down the street, swinging a backpack from one arm and a medical kit from the other. He stopped in mid-whistle, hearing the fit of coughing. He immediately turned around and looked down the alley, overly-long blonde hair hanging into his eyes. "Hello? Is anyone back here?" Without waiting for an answer he walked down the alley, unsure of whether it was something real or his over-reactive imagination.

Michael nodded. "You're right, crowds wouldn't deter them at all. I don't know what would. Do you know of something only he would understand? That we could use to get him to find us without broadcasting our location to everyone in the area?"

Subject heard the person enter, covering his mouth with a dirty hand, trying all the harder to stop. He was behind a dumpster, currently. Oh yes, and he was filthy. He seriously needed a hot bath and a lot of soap. He finally managed to stop, but by then, the person who had entered the alley was already walking towards his location. Unsure of whether he had been heard or not, Subject fell still, holding his breath.

"Uh...we hardly know him at all. We don't even know his name." Quinn blinked.

"Subject 56," Werr answered. "More commonly referred to as just Subject. 16, with abnormal growths including horns and a tail. Silver eyes, silver hair and a chronic coughing habit. I do believe he's the child of one of the scientists; but he was treated a bit more humanely than you, I suppose you could say. He got the foods he wanted and a comfortable bed, at any rate. He often requested pizza and root beer for dinners, and he always had chocolate milk with breakfast."

"You know all that?" Quinn frowned. "And why is he so special? I want chocolate milk now..."

"I glanced over his file." Werr shrugged. "The scientists saw him as more human than you, I imagine..."

Michael snorted. "I'm a scientist's kid. It's not all that great. Okay, erm... Root beer, chocolate mild, and pizza. Where's something unique to those? Is there, like, a root beer factory around here or something?"

Sylvester looked around, and, after a few seconds, decided it must have just been something he /thought/ he heard. "Hello? You're sure you're not here?" He slowly turned around and headed back toward the street.

"He would have been seen as more human due to the fact that he wasn't born that way, they made him that way. Subconscious guilt in the scientists would enable things like real food and a real bed and the like to be given to him." Werr explained his reasoning. "I'm not too sure. I'm just listing off what I remember. I do know that James has no idea who he is, unless he looks at the back of my book anytime soon. And even then, there isn't much information besides, 'no threat. Bring home.' That's all it says, then there's a picture of him. So James doesn't know his name or anything of the sort, which gives us the advantage. I do know that he spent a lot of time at a comic book store around here before he moved to the institute."

Subject nearly hit himself in anger at his own stupidity, shoving on his sunglasses and pulling up his hood again, his tail sliding up underneath his shirt, so it was hidden. This guy might be a gifted, duh! He looked a bit old...but...still, he didn't know any of the others, so it could be anyone, really. The sunglasses and hoodie made him recognizeable; it was much harder to tell that he was the boy from the broadcast when he had the stuff off.

Subject cleared his throat and tried to stand, but wound up hitting his head on the lip of the dumpster. It clanged loudly with the impact, and Subject let out a cry of pain, sitting down again and clutching his head. "Ow, ow, ow, ow..." He grumbled, crawling out from behind the dumpster.

"Guilt?" Michael fake-gasped. "Are you saying the scientists have consciouses? Wow. I didn't know they were even human." He then bit his lip again, something that was seeming to become a habit. "So we send the broadcast and reference Batman? We'd need something more... Concrete than that."

Sylvester whirled around, jumping at the sight of Subject. "You're-You're that kid who was on television? What're you doing here?"

"Subconscious guilt. They don't even realize it. And of course, they've turned one of their own into what can easily be labeled as a monster in normal society." Werr tutted. "And I'm not sure what else could be relevant. We can reference the shop somehow, or another area that he visited often. He walked past City Hall on the way home from school every day. His old house is on Rossen Street, number 127."

"His house? We can use that, can't we?" Quinn blinked. "If James doesn't know anything like that about him, then his house would be the perfect place."

"Already famous..." Subject grumbled, reaching under his hood and rubbing his head. "I'm waiting, duh. You aren't an escapee, are you? No, you're too old, and you look too awake. The escapees get tired easily..." He sighed, pulling his hand out. It was slightly red; apparently his head was bleeding. "Ow..."

"They would need a conscious to be sub to, which I seriously doubt they have. They're far too stupid and or monstrous." Michael shook his head. "His house would only work if there weren't any other agents who would know his address, and we can't know that. Because we can't know that, we can't /use/ that. City Hall, on the other hand, might work."

Syl blinked, confused and surprised by this turn of events. "Wait, escapee? If you're talking about the Gifted, that... Well that doesn't make any sense. The Gifted can't be 'escapees' because they don't have anyone they need to escape from. The scientists are on their side, and, I mean, it's not like their conditions are inhumane, the Gifted wouldn't /want/ to leave." He then caught sight of the red on his hand. "Wait, are you bleeding? Lemme see that?" He reached forward for Subject's hand, medical (student) instincts taking over.

"Let's use City Hall, then?" Quinn frowned. "How do we know that isn't known, then?"

"Because I actually bothered to look that far into the report." Werr said simply.

"You said you glanced over it."

"So I did. A more correct term would be that I thoroghly read and memorized every bit of it. As I did with all my targets." Werr shrugged.

"Ew! Creepy!" Quinn made a face.

"Now isn't the time, Quinn. We've got to find this boy, don't we?" Werr tutted calmly.

"On their side?" Subject snorted. "Clearly, your view of the situation is very, very wrong. I'm fine," He pushed Syl's hand away. "I saw some of the other living quarters. Straitjackets and bindings were a popular fashion there. The earth gifteds were suspended off the ground. The air gifteds were tethered to the ground. Water and ice? Heated rooms. Fire? Freezing cold rooms. Not inhumane, my right eye." He sighed, pulling off his hood to let Syl see his horns, but it was mostly the bleeding spot that he was worried about. "Now you can look at it. It hurts..."

Michael nodded. "Werr's right, we need to find him. Domed building on his way home from school, if Werr knows the route, we separate, stake out the various places, and then one of us makes contact. After an hour, we head back to the cliff."

Syl flinched at the sight of the horns, but slowly moved forward to check out the head wound, dropping the backpack and medical kit on the ground. "You don't have any strange conditions that would effect treatment, do you? You know, like, you don't actually need blood?" He shook his head at Subject's version of the Gifted story. "That can't be right. My uncle is one of those scientists. I'm postive that's not what's going on."

"Alrighty then." Quinn nodded. "We have to send the broadcast first, though, don't we?"

Subject frowned. "No, I don't have strange conditions. I like to keep my blood inside me, thank you very much. I'm not a vampire, you know, I'm human. Just like you, except a little different. Genetically, though, I'm the same as any other human out there. At least, I hope so." He pulled his head back, still frowning. "There's no reason to be afraid of me. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so by now. As for your uncle, he's one of the people doing it. Do you really think he'd tell you the truth? Why don't you look at me?" He took off his sunglasses and his tail slid out from under his shirt. "You yourself flinched at the sight of me. I didn't ask for this." It was true that his living arrangements were much more humane than the others, but that might have been the fact that he had no powers for them to worry about. None that would be useful, anyways.

"I suppose we do." Michael pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and began marching down the street. "Off we go then!" He was surprisingly chipper for Michael, especially since he was normally a grump.

"I had to ask. I have to ask every patient. If I don't, it's hardly proper procedure." He bent down and grabbed the kit, pulling a water bottle and a paper towel from the bag, wetting the paper towel and wiping the blood off Subject's head so that he could see the injury. "I'm fully aware that if you wanted to hurt me, you probably could. Most people could. As for my uncle..." He stopped for a second, regaining control of his temper, then shook his head. "My uncle's moral conduct is impeccable. Besides, my cousin is a Gifted, and he would hardly be that inhumane to his own son."

"Right!" Quinn smiled, still happy about the prospect of being on TV. Sylas just followed, not having any clue what the others were talking about. He was still carrying Timothy. (Although, now he was in dog form.) Werr matched his pace, eyes on the ground. Good grief, he didn't know for certain, but he was pretty sure that at least one of his shoulders was becoming infected.

The injury was actually just a small cut, nothing to worry about. Subject still seemed displeased, though. "If you're so adamant about your decision that these scientists are good, why don't you come with me? I was asking for one of the gifted to come help me, anyways. If they come, great. You can speak with them firsthand." Subject nodded, murmuring something along the lines of, 'it should be about time...' and pulled out what looked like a handheld TV. He punched in a few numbers and the channel changed to the local news. He set the antenna up so he could get the best signal, then placed it on the ground so it wouldn't be in the way. The tinny voices echoed quietly in the alley, althought the volume was hardly on. "Just put a band-aid on it or something. I'm fine, really."