Who should they call?
CHOICE A: Known Paci Custodis: 7 votes
CHOICE B: Young Paci Custodis with everything to prove: 1 vote
CHOICE C: Some crazy guy: 1 vote
In a large metropolitan city which will go nameless, two men sat on a couch watching television. One was thin and pale, and wore a black trench-coat and predominately black clothes, including a glove on his right hand and a pair of absurd goggles. He was young. A man in a confederate soldier's uniform sat next to him, with a day's growth of beard. This man was a bit older.
"You know, I've been thinking about 'Wife Swap'," said the young man.
The man next to him shrugged, and said, "Shrugs."
"Do the husbands who get their wives swapped get to have sex with the wife they swapped for?"
"I mean, the wives do just about everything else, right? It's not too far fetched an idea, eh?"
"Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't want to sleep with half these women, either."
They sat in silence for a few moments. The phone rang, and the young man stared at it. He looked at his companion.
"I think I should just let the machine get it. Probably not for either of us, anyway."
The machine picked up the call. The outgoing message was mainly unintelligible, but that was all right, because you only called if you knew who you were calling and they wanted you to be able to call them. The incoming message began: "Hello, this is Robin Banks. I work for TYRIS, and a cult of vampires gathered up around this fellow named the False Prophet has taken out two of our agents. One was there for a meeting with his spokeswoman vampire person. The other was actually there to avenge the death of the first agent and for personal reasons. In any case, I think this upsets the agreement you people have with the vampires. Don't bother calling me back or anything, as it's not an emergency or anything. Just thought you'd like to know."
The phone clicked off. The young man and his companion looked at each other.
"Think the others will want to look into that?"
"I'll go look up stuff on the False Prophet. You stay here and... watch television. I thought you couldn't do that?"
The other man looked at the young man, and pointed to his eyes. They were closed.
"Eh... all right."
The young man left the other man to his own devices, which included whittling a block of wood. By the time the young man had come back, the block of wood had been whittled into a slightly smaller, less blocky piece of wood.
"Well, the False Prophet is pretty bad news, but he's supposedly a bit southeast of here."
"Where are the others?"
"Furthermore, why didn't they take us with them? Not like we're any good sitting at home watching television."
"Yeah. If one of them were here, we could just go with them and take out this Prophet guy, take a nice little break in South Carolina when we're done. Oh, or we could go to Georgia and see Williams Street."
"Is Georgia even close to South Carolina?"
"You should know, Mister Confederate Soldier Man. Whatever."
"You know I can't drive because I don't have my license, and I'm technically a fugitive. Why can't you drive? Oh wait, I know. It's because you won't use anything that was invented after the Civil War, you Amish piece of trash."
"You know that's not onomatopoeia, right? That's just saying actions."
"Nods," said the man, and then, very deliberately, "Shrugs."
"Well, maybe you should care about the difference!"
The young man crossed his arms in a huff, and the other man continued whittling with a smirk on his face. Half an hour later, the young man spoke.
"We could get in contact with that one guy. The one who works for-"
"Yeah! He could probably get us a driver and everything!"
The young man picked up the phone, and quickly dialed a number, and a put-upon voice answered, "Hello, Bra-"
"Hey! It's me! The one who lives with-"
There was a deep sigh, and then, "Yes, I know who you are. What do you want?"
"I want to go to South Carolina, but I can't drive or anything. You can help though, right?"
"Why should we help you get to South Carolina?"
"Adventure! Basic goodness! All sorts of reasons! Oh, and my roommate can probably hook you up with a better job."
"Really? You think he'd do that?"
"Maybe! It couldn't hurt to help us out!"
"Okay, I'll send a car. Just talk to him, okay?"
"Will do!" said the young man, slamming the phone down, and flashing his friend a victory sign.
The pair ran off to pack, and then sat around for an hour waiting for the car to arrive. It was a Pinto, and as it honked its horn, a hubcap fell off. A weary-looking man was in the driver's seat.
"Sorry I'm late, fellas. My boss wouldn't let me just send a car, and told me to go myself. Then he made wait until my lunch break. So I can just about get you guys to the bus station, and give you some bus fare. How does that sound?"
The young man was torn. While he could have walked to the bus station himself, he didn't like being outside for too long or paying for his own bus fare. So, all in all, it was a good deal, and his companion agreed. They threw theirs bags in the trunk of the car, and hopped into it.
"We should have codenames," said the young man.
"I'll be... Game R. Mann and you can be my uncle Amos. You can be an undercover Amish secret agent or something, but we won't tell people that part, because it's a secret. I can be your plucky young partner who is not Amish, and so we clash and generally have a good time. It'll be great."
"You're insane," said their driver, "That name is stupid."
"Amos is a good name!"
"No, your name."
"I'll go by GR."
"That's only moderately better. Why are you coming up with all this nonsense anyway?"
"I like fun."
"Whatever. Here we are, and here's your bus fare. Hope you have a safe trip, kind of."
The newly-christened GR and Amos stepped out of the Pinto and took their bags. GR bought two tickets to South Carolina, and then the pair waited. Amos tugged on GR's sleeve.
Amos looked at him with a panicked expression.
"You should go to the bathroom now. Then again, the one on the bus might be cleaner. I don't know, Amos! And we've only moments to decide!"
When should Amos use the bathroom?
On the bus
7 years ago