The Forgotten Zodiac

Syl headed off in the proper direction, but shot a glare at Quinn. "Nineteen is hardly that old. Forty-five is when you start being old. I'm not old." They walked hurriedly for six minutes and thirty four seconds and then reached a silver van parked along the street. He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened the car. "Someone who isn't wanted should sit up front, and those of you in the back shouldn't look like hooligans. Hint, hint."

Subject pulled his hood up and climbed into the backseat. Werr immediately went for the back-most seat, wondering how many rules he was breaking this time. He had lost count, which didn't happen often. Quinn thought about it, then climbed into the back as well.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Someone who doesn't look like a hooligan, Syl? It's rather unlikely. Unless..." He turned to Sylas. "Sylas, can you change into a human that looks different from your human form right now?"

"Eh? This form isn't human, but okay." Sylas nodded, shifting into an older-looking man wearing a suit. "Does this work?" He asked, putting Timothy in the backseat, next to Quinn.

Timothy nearly panicked as Sylas set him down, but, after rather a lot of sniffling, scooted up next to Quinn and stared up at her with a face that was clearly begging her to protect him.

"Whatever, Sylas, just don't look creepy." Michael climbed in after Timothy and shut the door.

"Okay. I will not look creepy." Sylas nodded, climbing into the passenger's seat and gingerly closing the door behind him. Quinn smiled down at Timothy, wrapping her arm around him as she leaned against the window. Jeez, she was tired...Subject had already passed out, although that probably wasn't a good thing. He could have just fallen asleep, but it was more likely that he had gone into shock from the damage to his system.

Once everyone was in, Syl started the car and backed out of the driveway, heading toward the nearest highway out of the city. "Where did we need to be, again? I'm afraid I forgot."

"Out of the city." With that determined, Michael looked at Werr. "Where do you think we should go? You're the one who remembers everything."

"Back to your house? Follow this road until you come to a fork in the road. Take a right and keep driving, then take the next right again. You'll come to the treeline and a gravel road; continue along there, and take the first left you can, and you'll be there. It'll take about...seven and a half minutes, in car." Werr said without missing a beat. "If we're going somewhere else, though, which I strongly suggest doing...I have no idea."

Michael shrugged. "Werr, if you want to go somewhere else, why don't you know where the something else is?"

Syl, meanwhile, began following Werr's directions, having no idea what was actually going on.

"Because I'm not a GPS. I can't just collect signals from the nearest raido tower and magically locate the closest 'hidey-hole'." Werr tutted. "I do know that there's a respectable hotel not far from here, and much less respectable area back the way we came, but both of those areas are compromised due to the fact that James was with me when I scouted out such areas."

Michael grinned. "We can't have people associating us with James. What if we brought the less respectable area James' dead body? They would probably trust us then, or at least assume we were better than him."

"I don't think that crowd has an affiliation with James," Werr rolled his eyes. "Besides, they're all thugs. There's no real structure or command or anything of the sort..."

"Are you talking about a gang?" Quinn made a face. "No, let's just go back to Michael's house, thanks."

"Yes, Quinn is correct. She'd be safer at Michael's house, that's for certain. We don't outnumber them, and although we could easily overpower them, she might get dragged away without us noticing..." Werr stopped himself, realizing that Quinn looked sickened now, and very concerned. Werr sighed, shutting himself up. He wasn't helping her by saying stuff like this, clearly.

"We do not want Quinn to be dragged away," Sylas put in, frowning.

"But after knowing how terrible James is, anything we do would be an improvement. If it'll kill Quinn, we probably shouldn't go there. Timothy might get separated again, and that would be dangerous for everyone present." Michael bit his lip, chewing on it nervously. "Back to my house doesn't work, hotels associate Werr with James, the rest of the city is full of cops and cameras. What if we just leave?"

"Leave?" Werr blinked, thinking for a moment. "Okay. I have a connection in Columbus, Gorgia. We're in South Carolina now, it should only be a day's drive from here. We need to get to a payphone first, unless you have a cell phone, Sylvester."

"A connection? What does THAT mean?" Quinn frowned, wondering if it involved gangs or anything of the sort.

"It means me and someone else have a deep and personal history." Werr answered simply.

Michael laughed. "Were it anyone but Werr, I would say it means his ex-girlfriend is down there, but this is Werr, and I doubt romance is allowed."

Syl pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and held it back for whoever needed to to grab it. "Of course, I have a cell phone. Almost all people do."

Michael took the phone and passed it back to Werr, then frowned. "Werr, since you're the one who knows where we're going, shouldn't you be up here so you can tell Sylvester where to go?"

"I should think getting into Gorgia would be a matter of taking the highway and following signs. I'll help after that." Werr tutted, ignoring Michael's romance comment. Actually, Michael was very much correct. He didn't have the time for it, anyways. He punched in the number and brought the phone to his ear, waiting several long minutes before he spoke. First in what sounded like French, then in German, and finally Russian. He continued in Russian for several more long minutes, his usual stony expression not changing once. "Izvinite. Do svidaniya." He said, hanging up the phone immediately after. He handed the phone back to Michael.

"We have ourselves a place to stay. You're welcome." He said calmly.

((Georgia.))

Michael tossed the phone back up to Syl, then turned back to Werr. "What was with that language? Is it really necessary to speak in languages I can't understand? What's the good of my eavesdropping if you don't speak English?"

((Darn.))

"The first two languages were our password, so we know that it's who we say we are." Werr explained bluntly. "The Russian is our mutual language. She doesn't speak English very well, unlike myself."

"It's hard to understand you anyways, you have a really thick accent." Quinn frowned. She was obviously exhausted, and she looked a bit carsick, too.

"My apologies. I'm afraid that's the last thing I have to work on before I can blend into the American society." Werr tutted. "Not that I want to. Ever. Blending is good, but Americans make me sick sometimes."

((Woah! For a second I thought you said darn, but the profane version. I was hugely shocked.))

Michael nodded. "Americans are disgusting. Have you seen what we eat at McDonalds? It makes me want to throw up sometimes." He looked over at Quinn and grinned. "Carsick, are you?"

((Hm. I don't think I would ever do that, Sage. Like, ever. Never. EVER.))

"Agreed," Werr nodded.

"Can we not talk about throwing up and stuff right now?" Quinn made a face, shaking her head. "Because if you keep talking, I'm going to throw up on you guys."