A Call For Help


diogenes_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif isis2_icon.gif

Scene Title A Call For Help
Synopsis Diogenes calls up Kaylee to ask for help returning to the United States before continuing the journey to the port city with Isis.
Date August 11, 2010

A stop not far from a port city in Lithuania, Eastern Europe.

Tall trees obscure the vastness of the land. While the woods surrounding this small patch of relative civilisation aren't particularly thick, they stretch out far enough that one would fail to see beyond the trees. All you can see is a long two-lane road, a small parking place that holds but a sizeable intercity bus and two cars, and a country restaurant for drivers to rest on long journeys. Unlike the retro-themed diners one finds in the US of A, this particular restaurant looks much more like a cottage, with an appropriately cosy interior to match. Employees reflect the pleasant atmosphere; after all, their grandparents built the place with their bare hands and bare passion.

Diogenes stands outside the establishment, however. Although he hasn't had the chance to change his apparel, he has at least met the negligible demands of his hunger, after which he left his companion indoors to make the call he has delayed for longer than he would have liked. Psychological preparations were to be made. And now that he has spare time before he and Isis continue on their journey to the port city, he decides now is the best time. His thumb taps all the right buttons to bring up Kaylee in his phonebook and initiate the call. An exasperated sigh betrayed his frustration with so many unknown variables. Does she still have the same number? Is she currently near her mobile phone? "Pick it up. Come on."

Even though she's home, Kaylee is still charged with taking it easy. Still in her PJs, curled up on the couch with a bowl of cereal and a dog in her lap, the telepath isn't expecting a call. So when her cellphone goes off, the young woman jumps a bit. Bowl set on the table and the dog shoved off with her one usable arm. All this takes time, so the phone will ring longer then the man wants.

Finally, Kaylee is able to hurry to where her cellphone is set in it's cradle and a bit breathless answers it. "Hello?"

"Kaylee? Uh. That you?"

Although it's the young man's intention to come off as worried and distracted, the fractured tone and the sudden loss of words is something he hasn't planned. It has been a while since he spoke to the blonde, and the long ringing fooled him into thinking she wasn't going to pick up, thus catching him off-guard. "Well", he proclaims once he clears his throat, "there goes my chance at scaring you." Some things change. Kaylee will find that Diogenes is not in the same category of said things. "It's your favourite fake Greek philosopher - Diogenes. Remember me?"

The man glances towards the bus. It's empty. The passengers are having a break, very much like the driver is. Of course, Diogenes is well aware of the irony that people who are tired from idly sitting are now idly sitting in the restaurant, instead. Except they can stuff their face full with exquisite country meals.

"It -" There is a pause. "Diogenes?" There is shock in the young woman's voice. And there a moment of shocked silence, her gaze on the window not far from her and the roadway beyond. "Wow… okay. Not someone I expected to hear from…" like ever. Brows furrow and she turns slightly to look behind her to the couch again.

"Yeah, I remember you. What happened to you?" The question isn't accusing, just mere curiosity. "I haven't talked to you since before the huge storm and the virus. I figured you either got out of dodge or… well… died." Her eyes find the dog sniffing around the bowl, pondering how it would taste. "Missy. No!

"Sorry. dog's after my food." She murmurs as she moves to retrieve the bowl from the table, moving her injured arm carefully. Bowl in hands, the telepath moves to take it into the kitchen. "So… what has you calling, little ol' me?" A grin touches her lips as she asks that, not that he can see it.

Silence is the first response Kaylee receives. After that comes a heavy sigh, flooding the speaker of the man's phone. He then smacks his lips, diverting his gaze towards the seemingly endless forest. Give him another a moment, and he finally speaks up: "Yeah, I wasn't around when you Americans were freaking out at a typical Russian summer, or when the Evo' flu hit. I was, uh… home. In Eastern Europe."

"Listen, I'd love to catch up on old times and give you a sob story on how my family did not accept me back, but I call with a… an urgent matter." A subtler sigh interrupts him, but it's not as long as earlier before he continues: "The wrong people found out that I am an Evolved. Actually, worse: they find out what I can do, and they're hellbent on finding me. I can handle a guy or a few, but an angry mob is not in my job description."

"I need a free ride back. Possibly a place to stay. Those, uh, the Ferrymen you've mentioned to me. They help out Evolved, right?"

Her head turns into the phone just a little, as she listens to the voice on the other end of the phone. Blonde brows furrow, the bowl is gently set into the sink. Kaylee is silent at first, lips pressed tightly as she considers. "Yeah… they help evolved. We protect them and hide them. Get them out if we need too." The words are spoken with hesitation, slow and softly spoken.

"I… can't…" Kaylee's voice trails off, her eyes on the stainless steel sink in front of her. "I can't guarantee they can help, but… I can talk to some of the leadership. See if they agree that your situation fits the criteria." There is a bit of a grimace, before he continues. "ell me what you can about your situation, it can only hope your case. You may get a call from one of them as well."

Teeth catch her lips for a moment, before she adds. "I wish I could be more certain."

With a sudden and momentary upwards jerk of his brows, Diogenes tips his head to the side and replies in a curt manner: "A chance of a lending hand is better than a definite slap to the face."

Diogenes casts his frosty gaze over his shoulders, noting the passengers of the bus slowly departing from the restaurant, one by one. His stern eyes then switch to the cabin of the bus. The driver is in. The trip is soon to continue, it appears. Fortunately for him, English is not a language commonly spoken in his country. "Okay, uh", he continues, "See, everyone knows I am an Evolved in my neighbourhood. But it's not exactly a reputable place. When I gave my folk a visit, I was almost mugged. I am sure you can guess what happened from the 'almost' bit. And, well, as it turns out, those guys had connections in the local mafia who also happen to be… anti-Evolved, to put it lightly."

The man is not against a white lie. He is not against a lie that serves a grand purpose and is revealed once it outlives its function. But he is not comfortable with outright lying to the closest individual he might have had for an ally, with the fiery redhead being the exception. "I know that beggars can't be choosers, but if they could organise a stow-away ride in a ship, that would be easiest on us all." With yet another sigh, he closes his eyes. "Regardless if this goes through - thanks. I'll wait for the call back, be it from you or another Ferryman."

"Okay…" The word is spoken firmly, as Kaylee turns slowly to settle back against the kitchen counter, her other arms resting across her middle, fingers toying with a wrinkle in the fabric of her tank top. "Okay… I'll make some calls, see what I can find out about getting you safely out of there." Concerned now, Kaylee is already going through the names of people she could talk too.

"Hang in there, Dio." Even if he doesn't like the use of the nickname, Kaylee still does. "Me or another of the Ferry will be in touch, so lay low til then." A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Good to hear from you either way and I'll talk to you soon with hope."

"You will. I'd hate to rob your life of pleasure of displeasure of my presence."

Surely enough, he takes the initiative and hangs up, tapping the respective button with firm decisiveness. Of course, Irony makes a swift appearance, as it is the very moment he hangs up and glances at the screen of his mobile that he realises that he omitted a detail in the midst of his concerns regarding his lie. "Va, kvailys", he curses himself in his own language, playfully slamming the phone against his forehead.

A few hasty clicks of buttons later, Kaylee's phone would whirr to life once more. This time, there is but a text message: "Oh and tell them I can join up their happy evo club in return.so long as they don't put me in evo kindergarten to look after evo babies."

"There. That ought to settle it", he murmurs to himself, confusing the people passing by him; those who were already wary of him. And for good reason, no doubt. Still, deliberately ignorant of their stance, Diogenes slips the phone into the pocket of his jeans, and spins on his heels to face the cottage behind him, his eyes looking for a certain passenger of the same bus.

Right on cue. Isis strolls out of the cabin diner, a stout styrofoam cup in one hand which she uses to dip the biscuit she holds in the other - returning the fluffy goodness covered in a warm, brown gravy. "Umph!" She exclaims with a mouthful as she spots Diogenes. She strolls forward, covering her hand with the back of her mouth, so that her nose is obscured by the half-eaten pastry. "Did I say we were going back to New York?" she teases, before swallowing down the bite. She drops her hand and waves her words away. "Anyway, what's cookin'? What's the dealio? What's the happs?" Pause. "Sorry, one too many energy shots, I think…" She stuffs another bite of gravy-soaked biscuit into her mouth to keep from rambling as she gives Diogenes an awkward smile.

At first, Diogenes observes her appearance silently. A grin threatens to slip past his control, but he quickly captures it and instead cocks a brow. Lips spread and it seems as though he will finally speak. Lips seal, and the handful of air he hastily inhaled isn't put to use until a couple of moments later, when Isis finishes the barrage of questions he deems to be just an accumulation of strange noises.

He gestures towards the bus, the suppressed grin finally showing up. "The 'dealio' is that we're going back on the bus before they take off without us. Come on." The young man sets off, his stride carrying him towards the aforementioned bus. Occasional glances are sent over his shoulder to enure the redhead follows. "I've called Kaylee. Asked if the Ferrymen will help me get back to New York, maybe even provide a place to stay. But she needs time", he informs Isis. As they reach the entrance to the bus, he stops at the side, allowing her to enter first. "Which means we might stay here a longer while, still. I know a guy… I've known him for a long while. Since childhood, in fact. He's a bit… simple, but a great friend. I'm pretty sure I can coax him into letting us stay at his place."

"Kaylee?" Isis pause at the bus door with a sour expression. She lifts a hand, rubbing her fingers together to dislodge the crumbs of the easily finished biscuit from her fingers to land at Diogenes's feet, before giving the container of gravy a quick toss into the nearest bin. Only then does she mount the bus with a huff and plop down into their previously assigned seats. She grumbles a bit to herself, before looking up as Diogenes settles in beside her. "Well, doesn't sound like we have much of a choice. You sure this friend of yours… Will Mr. Big, Bigger, and Biggest's friends find us there?" She glances out the window with a little frown stuck on her pale features before grumpily pushing her fingers back through her hair in the ever futile attempt to tame the wild waves.

Isis and Diogenes are among the last passengers to enter the bus. It only takes a few more before the bus is completely full once more. Despite summer slowly drawing to a close, this particular patch of land in Eastern Europe is still exposed to simmering heat, and full busses with a scant breeze from half-functional AC units is not exactly a preferred transportation. Then again, Diogenes refused to take the obvious route. His caution (excessive it may be) also prompts him to keep one ear-plug of his mp3 player constantly feeding him local news, just in case gunfire at his apartment is mentioned.

"Actually… This city we're going to - KlaipÄ—da? It has an even greater number of those guys there. But that means they don't expect us there. Nobody knows me there, too. If we keep our heads down, we should be fine… for a few days. If I hear nothing from Kaylee, we'll have to look for other methods getting out of here and back stateside." Diogenes eyes the driver, who happens to be counting the passengers. A moment later, his attention shifts to Isis. "Why did you turn sour all of a sudden, anyway? Did you two get into a catfight while I was missing?" The mighty if aged engine of the bus roars to life.

The mighty bus slowly crawls backwards. As it does, the interior stirs with minuscule yet clearly felt tremors. The window frames and the chairs quiver with such vigour that what little movement they make is a blur. The large mechanical creature eventually stills. Going forward is a more straightforward and less strenuous matter, and it helps that the way is free and hardly busy. On the road again, as Willie Nelson would gleefully state.

Leaving aside the matter that is Kaylee, Diogenes instead turns his attention to the topic regarding his current predicament. "I lied to her. I've told her I was almost mugged when I visited my family, and the thugs I took care of turned out to be from the mafia, who sent guys after me. I can't decide whether the lie or the truth sounds better." These words are parted with heavily, reluctantly and with a quiet tone. But it must be said. "When I dropped education to indulge my whim to come to the US, I tried the obvious 'hero' route. But my power is not exactly meant for… constructive aid, if you know what I mean. And not everyone was thankful enough to provide me with money."

Idly, the man looks around. Everyone seems to mind his own business. They are only glad that he has stopped singing and visibly gossiping about them in a foreign tongue. Soon, his eyes are laid back on Isis. "So, I turned to stealing. Not that I actively involved myself in criminal acts, but it's still not something I admit freely. I've made sure that none of the thugs gained a single penny, however. I thought they were random robbers… lowlife scum. Well, it turns out it was slightly more complicated than that, and they told on me. Fast forward a few months, they still remember this face that kept them immobile on the floor until police arrived. I kept out of their way, but I knew they were onto me. I guess… you gave them the opportunity they were looking for."

Slowly, with each word spoken, Isis's shoulders droop. "You… They… UGH!" A few faces turn to look her way, to which she responds by childishly sticking out her tongue and wrinkling her nose. The scoff and turn their attentions back to their business. "So, it was my fault. I mean, your fault for being a dumbass, but my bad luck of giving them opportunity?" She sighs and turns back right about in her seat, laying her head back into the stiff headrest. "You're so smart Tomas, really. But, sometimes? You're a bonehead." She lifts her left hand, picking her fingernails across the soft flesh of her lower lip. Finally: "Well, let's hope your friend is feeling charitable."

As much as Diogenes wanted to argue with Isis, he disagreed with his past actions and as such even a cautious dance around the fact that he has made a mistake is avoided. "It was only a matter of time until they attacked. Better with you around than in my sleep."

The man clears his throat. "Look, the sooner we forget about this, the better, okay?" He reclines in his seat, his eyes set on the view outside. The forests have ended, and endless fields can be seen. Lithuania is a flat country, with some modest hills to be seen in the distance here and there. Not much is left of the journey - less than a hundred miles. Diogenes proves to be a silent passenger for the rest of the trip, seemingly occupied by his own innate world.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License