Ferried Away


cat_icon.gif delia_icon.gif huruma3_icon.gif

Scene Title Ferried Away
Synopsis At Rebel's signal, the thundercats are a go.
Date August 31, 2010

Wo Hop Restaurant

» Get out of the house. Now. They are coming for your father. — Rebel

That was all the text said. Delia, having a rather late night had also a rather late start to her day and was still in bed when every piece of electronic equipment fired up, rousing her with a jolt. She'd been sleeping with her cellphone right next to her head. WHen she saw the message, she vaulted from the bed tripping over the mass of sheets and covers to fall on the floor.

She doesn't have a car, her bike is the only transportation she has. Making certain she has only the bare essentials, a backpack stuffed with her wallet, a few changes of socks and underwear, and the photo album gifted to her by her dead mother, she cycles out. In the distance, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles sound off.

» Wo Hop Restaurant. Wait there. — Rebel

That's all the next text says. By the time it's received, Delia's already been cycling for two hours, as fast as she can manage. Weaving through the cars and pedestrian traffic, the young redhead makes her way toward Little Italy. She's barely familiar with the place, but the phone is a secure line, only Abby has the number. It couldn't have come from anyone else.

Too in shock to cry, too panicked to slow down, she skids into the alley behind the restaurant at full tilt, almost hitting a homeless person. Only when she's reached the safety of the back door does she stop to take a breath. "Daddy… please be alright…" She can't afford to cry, not yet.

A purple Neon pulls into a parking space somewhere in the area, Cat getting lucky to find it available. She opens the door and steps out onto the street. Hands push the driver's side door closed with the telltale metallic sound of such an action, then she sets off walking the half block or so between that spot (Point A) and the Chinese restaurant (Point B) she's been advised to visit. Steps are quick, but not a running pace, in this approach. She has much to do today, it's a busier day than normal due to the shocking news now spreading out all over the airwaves.

Eyes survey her surroundings, checking for the presence of police or Federal agents without seeming to be worried about such things. There isn't fear, but there is tension and concern about her.

After fielding the knot of worms that was Jaiden, Huruma has taken her time- just enough to be certain she is not followed- in getting to Wo Hop when she does get that message. Unbeknownst to her, Rebel is either orchestrating something interesting, or simply casting a very wide net for young miss Ryans. Whatever the case, she gets there to the block around Wo Hop not long after Catherine. She knows the brunette, of course, yet it takes a moment to place why, when Huruma spots her from a choice, ground level vantage point. Several dozen reasons, realistically, come to mind.

Considering the ramifications takes much less time than getting to Little Italy did; after some short consideration, Huruma tightens her features and steps out into the morning sun, only to cross the street towards the restaurant. No effort made to hide- not that she really could. Huruma in this part of town sticks out, even disregarding her rather utilitarian dress, of heeled boots, jeans, and that olive tank. Utility and military, somehow. Aviators hang, shimmering, from the cut of her shirt, and those metaphysical whiskers are branched like a web.

At a little table for one, near the back, Delia is thumbing the keypad to her little black phone. The lines of worry etched onto her features give cause for some of the patrons to eye her carefully. A man in a black bomber jacket walks through the front door, his eyes shielded by aviator shades, and turns his head to gaze around the restaurant. The brand new fugitive's eyes widen in alarm as he begins stalking quickly toward her table and she scrambles to put her phone in her pocket and grip up her backpack.

"Hey honey, what too you so long?" His smile is disarming. As he pulls off the sunglasses, the crystal blue of his eyes catches Delia and she stares into them, frightened. His smile falters and turns to nothing but a small wisp before he breaks the contact and returns his focus to the woman at the table in front of her own.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the young woman drops her elbow to the table with a small clunk and grips her forehead in her hand. "Calm down… calm down… calm down…" It's her new mantra but it doesn't work.

Unaware of Huruma's presence, Cat reaches the door and steps through it. Casual dress is the order of things, so much the usual for this woman. Just a handful of moments are spent scanning the interior before she spots Delia with her head in hands and elbow on the table. A measure of nonchalance is applied as she makes the approach, words are spoken quietly to the red haired one, the goal to not be overheard by anyone nearby.

"Let's go take a walk, Delia. Don't call attention to yourself, don't say anything, just get up and leave here with me. We don't want anyone to find you very memorable." Having said that, Cat turns and starts back out toward the doors, her intent being to get the girl out and into a safer place before delving more into what's going on.

Calm down, calm down; a worthy mantra, even if ineffective. Huruma can feel the frayed, wild emotions of the girl from all the way on the street. She is like a beacon amidst people out for breakfast, people passing through. A beacon that Huruma zeroes in on with the utmost accuracy. When she slinks through the door, it is at the same time that Cat is turning to go back. Mantras may be ineffective, but Huruma standing in the way is quite effective. Her eyes draw past Cat to the slightly taller redhead, then back down to the brunette. Plush lips purse, cheeks slightly concave.

"Ah. I see that I am not th'only one sent here." Huruma's voice is low, and fluid. Something else, even more watery, begins to trickle in silence down onto Delia's mind. A soothing, calming state, gradually slicking over her panic, drip by drop.

When Cat's silken voice interrupts the whispers of the redhead at the table, A tangle of curls is caught between her slender fingers as Delia looks up. Drawing the hair over her face in sea monster fashion before that same hand pulls it back, away from her forehead.

She doesn't nod, she doesn't give any indication that she even heard the brunette, other than piling a bit of loose change onto the table to pay for unserved tea and hugging her knapsack to her chest as she gets up to follow the other woman. Huruma's silhouette in the door frame isn't easy to miss, neither are the vanishing feelings of dread and panic. The sight of her giant guardian angel even puts a smile on Delia's face. But following Cat's order, she says nothing, only passing an expression of gratitude toward the dark woman.

It's just the sounds of motion close behind her which tell Cat her redhaired subject of rescue is rising to follow her out. Huruma is sighted before her, and the presence causes her to let out a quiet chuckle. Ever one to think on her feet, and realizing Huruma likely doesn't have hostile intent by her spoken words, the panmnesiac moves forward at a calm pace. "Excellent timing," she replies in a voice meant only for the giant African. "Presuming we're after the same goal, we can discuss things in a more private place. She might need a dose of your mojo, however."

Feet continue on, leading back out through the door, where she waits to see if the other two also emerge.

Maybe Huruma just has that effect on Delia. Or maybe this is something artificial- though extremely hard to notice as such. She keeps her eyes on Delia, tilting her chin to listen to Cat as she comes to one side of the door in that attempt to pass. Huruma does move aside, just enough.

"I am so very far ahead of you, Catherine…" Her voice is that same liquid drawl. She steps forward, one hand and arm moving to beckon Delia in between her two apparent rescuers. "Come, mtoto. Time to go."

"I always thought I looked more like Blossom," Delia says quietly as she follows Cat out of the restaurant. With Huruma watching her back, it feels a little more like home and some of the anxiety that had been plaguing her melts away naturally, rather than by her guardian's power.

As she steps out into the sunlight, she pauses for just enough time to glance toward the alleyway. "My bike… " Her voice drifts to silent, uncertain whether she'll be able to take it or not. "… Can I? It's just…" She points down the deserted space between the buildings.

"Timing is fortunate for more than just this task, Huruma," Cat remarks once the other two are with her outside the restaurant, "I've something to show you. You might find it interesting, or not. Don't have it with me right now, but… I will at some time in the near future." No acknowledgment of being behind Huruma, or denial of it.

Next she addresses Delia. "I can have someone collect it for you. Right now we need to move."

"She is right." Huruma moves onward and outward with the duo, waiting to follow Cat rather than presume to lead. For the time being, she lifts the sunglasses from her shirt and perches the twin mirrors onto her face; behind them, she finds herself free to inspect their surroundings.

"Do you, now? I hope that it is worthwhile." Delia gets a hand to her shoulder as Huruma answers Cat, and before long she is looking to the redhead. "Bicycles can wait." A pat goes to the pack she has with her. "I assume you knew how t'pack. That is what is important."

The pat to the backpack lends itself to something hard just underneath the canvas. "I got the most important thing, and some socks and underwear…" Which are also important, but to a lesser extent than the square thing stuffed tightly inside the sack. It stretches the fabric out to one side, coming to a point where the drawstring pulls it closed and the flap protects it from any stray eyes. If the corner gets bent? It doesn't matter, what's inside that is what counts.

"I didn't have much time to get anything else… they were already coming when I left." At least, she assumes the sirens were for her father. Delia's eyebrows knit together in worry as she follows Cat to wherever it is they need to be. She doesn't spare a pause to her steps when she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at the dark woman, "Dad…?"

The redhead and her pack are glanced at, Cat remarking simply "if you need things, we'll cross that bridge then." Finances aren't a problem she has. Feet, in moving forward, are leading toward that purple Neon. "We're going to take you to a quiet place," she glances at Huruma to see if objections are offered or displeasure shown, "where you can breathe easier and questions can in time be answered. You must have them, like how it is I recognize Huruma without introduction and I'm not asking who your father is, or why I was drawn here to help get you in the first place."

Regardless of the question not being directed toward her, Cat provides an answer. "I don't know what his situation is, Delia. After we get you to safety, finding out is one of the things I need to do." Her keyfob comes out, buttons are pressed. Doors are unlocked, she moving to get behind the wheel and leaving the others to sort out where they sit. Another glance goes to Huruma, the face and eyes showing a measure of unspoken gratitude. She's certain that were it not for the African giantess and her mojo, this would've been a very difficult extraction. Perhaps even have failed.

The last thing that Huruma ought to do is sugarcoat things. Delia is more than old enough. To her tact and credit, Huruma waits until they get into the car- she sits in the back, as much out of need as anything else. She only offers Cat a passive glance, neutral at best.

"I do not know what is going on with him." From Huruma's tone, however, she has a vague idea, yet wishes that it was concrete. "Rebel contacted me, told m'that your father was in signal blackout. I do no'think he watches your father at all times- so I like t'think that Benjamin was resourceful enough t'initiate first contact. Though I would not b'shocked if Rebel had been watching him. I really do not know. I only know tha'your father would'ave my hide if I let something'appen t'you."

That, and she has grown too fond of Delia to not do something.

In the passenger seat the moment Cat unlocks the doors, Delia pulls her seat belt on and fastens it. The small click gives her a measure of comfort as she hugs the pack to her chest and leans her cheek on it. It's only by chance that she's looking at Cat and only because she doesn't want to look out the window. She doesn't want to see out there or let out there see her.

"I guess no news is good news in this case," she mumbles. She's sure that Rebel wouldn't have sent anyone for her if her father was dead. The redheaded Ryans just isn't that important in the overall scheme of things.

The vehicle is placed in motion after Cat fastens her own seat belt and enters whatever city traffic exists in Little Italy. No words pass her lips, eyes are kept on the road. There's nothing she could really say which would add to Huruma's assessment, and in her mind to assure the redhead it'll all be okay, that they'll find her father, is a bad course to take.

Because he very well might not be.

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