The Forgotten Zodiac

((Okay...

cbox is broken. Chrome says it doesn't exist.))

Michael shook his head. "We'll go south first, then we can go west. We shouldn't go anywhere near the TV station, or that whole area, the cops would be on us in a second, and I, for one, am against Lotis' methods."

Timothy simply sat there, to miserable to do anything else, or try to convince Sylas that it wasn't his fault, as he knew it was.

((Yes. I accidentally broke it while trying to change the colors. And then my router died again.

Sorry 'bout that. It's back online now, though. Now that we have guests. -grumbles-))

Werr blinked at Michael for a moment. "Right. Fine. South, then." Werr turned south, and kicked the solid wall of the alley. "Hm, I don't think that's going to work. Maybe we should head west just a little bit, until we can turn south." He frowned.

Sylas relaxed a little bit, but only a little. He was terrified of Timothy now, to say the least.

((I don't like you having guests. They should leave. GO AWAY BUN'S GUEST PEOPLES!

Poor Timothy. Sylas was the only person he really trusted.))

Michael shook his head. "We're not going back there. We can head east until a south-westerly direction provides itself. Then we can go in that direction.

After about fifteen seconds of sitting there, Timothy turned to look up at Sylas. "S-Sylas? Are you- Are y-you m-m-mad?"

((They went away, then I had homework, then I had school, then I had more homework, then I had more school, and now I'm here with a busted-up knee and a heated pad. I fell down the stairs.))

Werr rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Fine. We'll go that way. But it's pretty common police procedure to set up a perimeter around an area before closing in. If we get cornered, I guess I can just say 'I told you so' while we're forced to battle it out against police with guns and criminal record tracking access, which will ultimately land me in a padded cell for the rest of my life, until the Institute finds me again and puts me in a padded room for the rest of my life while I'm suspended 10 feet off the floor by thick plastic chains. You guys will probably all be taken by the Institute too, but if you're okay with that, alright. We'll go your way."

"You're a-a pretty hard...hard-core pessimist." Subject noted, looking pretty exhausted, though Syl had stopped the bleeding.

"I have to be. I can't take light of any situation if I want to survive."

"No..." Sylas said quietly, shaking his head. "I'm...I'm scared!" He shifted again, changing into a mouse and scurrying under a nearby dumpster.

((Homework is dumb, school is stupid, busted knee is terrible. Whyfore is your life so terrible?))

Timothy hung his head and pulled his knees up to his chest, sobbing nearly hysterically. "I'm s-s-sorry, S-Sylas."

"Look, Werr, going back to the TV station involves going near cameras, which are bad. It's not my fault you're a criminal you know. No one ever forced you to commit crimes, that was completely your decision. Also, we have Quinn, Tyler, me, and Sylas. We'll just create walls to block the bullets. Can we go now?"

((Yes, yes, and yes. I don't know, Sage, I really don't. -sigh-))

Sylas just squeaked.

"We all do what we must to survive. The interpretation of my actions to other people were apparently bad. I'm tired of being cornered by people with guns, that's my opinion of it." Werr sighed. "Fine. Your way it is. But whichever way we go, we need to move quickly."

((-hug- Poor Bun. Just remember, Jesus loves you. Poor Timothy. First this and then Kai said Timothy wasn't his friend. The poor boy...))

Michael nodded and marched over to Timothy. He knelt down next to him and told him it was time to go, then lifted him up by the shoulders and marched him forward. "Off we go then. You need to come out, Sylas."

Sylas crawled out from underneath the dumpster, changing into a cat so he could still make a quicker getaway if he needed to. He kept his distance from Timothy, head hung in fear that the boy would turn around and attack him again.

'You failed,' Lotis' cruel voice echoed in the back of Timothy's mind. The Iyoui was too far away to push any deeper, though, so he couldn't make Timothy attack again. 'You're pathetic.'

((Yes. I know.

I'm not helping Timothy with the whole Lotis thing, but haha. Oh well. I'm a cruel, cruel person.))

Upon hearing Lotis' voice, Timothy collapsed, and if Michael hadn't been nearly carrying him already, he would have dropped to the ground. "S-Sylas, I'm s-s-sorry!" He begged. "P-Please, he m-m-made me d-do it."

Sylas crawled a little closer, though now he was walking behind Michael, so the larger human was in between him and Timothy. "Who made you do it? Lotis only talks to you...right?" Sylas said worriedly, peering around Michael.

Timothy, at this point, was incoherent, whimpering things about how Lotis was in his head hurting him and he didn't mean to Lotis made him.

Michael reached below Timothy and grabbed his legs, which were dangling on the ground. "I don't know, Sylas. It's not something Timothy would ever do normally."

Sylas was quiet for a moment, then he shifted back into his usual self. He reached over Michael and picked up Timothy. "Did Lotis make you do it?" He asked, looking very serious.

"Er...we might have a problem, if Lotis can control Timothy..." Quinn spoke up, frowning a bit.

Timothy nodded and buried his face in Sylas' neck. "I'm sorry, Sylas!" He wailed. "Please make him stop! Make him go out!" He wrapped his arms around Sylas neck, terrified that Sylas would still be angry and would put him down.

Sylas held on, focusing for a moment so he could weed Lotis out. "It is okay, Timothy. I forgive you." He wasn't actually hurt anymore, he had just been scared, really. "Lotis cannot bother you anymore."

Slowly Timothy began to stop crying. "Th-thank you, Sylas. I'm sorry, I really am! I didn't mean it at all, he made me, I swear!" Now that he had worked himself up, however, he was back to sobbing.

"Shh," Sylas said gently, patting Timothy's back. "I understand. Please stop crying, there might be more human poll-eese around..."

"Police," Quinn corrected him, smiling a bit at Sylas' pronunciaton mistake. You would think that Werr would be the one to make such mistakes, him being Russian and all, but nope. Werr's pronunciation and grammar were always perfect, which was a shame, because that meant she couldn't tease him about it.

At Sylas' request, Timothy shoved his hand into his mouth, to terrified to stop crying and to terrified to continue, so he forced himself to be quieter. Sadly for him, his head was behind Sylas', so Sylas couldn't see that and help him.

Sylas kept patting Timothy's back. "When will we be getting out of the city?"

"The suburbs should be just ahead," Werr said. "I suppose Michael's solution was--" He stopped himself, coughing a bit. He swore under his breath, realizing how tired he was. That fight had taken a lot out of him. He was already dying, after all...

That wasn't to say that none of the others were tired; Quinn looked a bit like she was sleepwalking, Sylas still seemed a bit scared to be holding Timothy, and Subject was having trouble keeping his eyes open (as he was exhausted from the loss of blood). Werr was just the only one coughing up blood right now.

Syl slowly raised his hand, not sure if he even wanted to say something with what was going on right now. "Umm, not sure if this matters, but just a few blocks that way," He pointed south-west, "there's a mini-van that would fit all of you, and I'm not wanted by the police, and my father is a well-respected gentleman, so I'm sure I could get us out of here."

"You do? Oh, good," Werr said through his coughing fit. "Let's h-hurry."

"That's right, you're old! You can drive!" Quinn grinned. "Let's go, then! Lead the way!" Subject looked grateful, but he didn't want to try talking, as he felt a bit like he needed to throw up. Sylas just followed, not too sure about getting into whatever this 'mini van' was.