hitchin'

[insertusername]

hitchin'

You’ve got somewhere to be and no way to get there. Stick out your thumb on the side of a lonesome highway. Beam a distress call from a nearby planet. Send an interplanar astral projection into someone’s dream. However you get the signal out hitch a ride and get the hell out of dodge.

top level

to tell your potential driver where you’re heading and see if they can make room for you.

comment

if you’re willing to go their way.

Comments

[complexharmony]

((woohoo! last two questions: Sylar the driver or the hitchhiker? and, did you want to start or shall i? :D ))

[charodeyka]

( we'll go with driver? and if you don't mind starting, that would be great! )

sorry this took so long! it has been A Day :)

[complexharmony]

( Cured of the Shanti virus and now having gained the power of immortality, it's fair to say that one Sylar was having a very Good Day. There were so many people out there, people who didn't realize how special they were, or worse, those who had and did not deserve the abilities they had been given.

He wants to track down and meet every... last... one.

Acquiring a car had been the easiest thing. Locked doors are nothing against telekinesis, and blue collar workers three sheets to the wind aren't too careful with their keyrings. The stolen car wouldn't be reported until late afternoon the next day, if even then, and by that point? He would've picked something else already. For now, he's driving a classical matte black, with all the bells and whistles of the modern age. Everything one would need for a cross country tour.

Thus begins his journey. He's whistling along to a upbeat jazz tune on the radio when he spots the young woman with the purple puppet. That was certainly unique. He shouldn't stop, but there's a strange pang of consciousness: had it not been a pair of renegade outlaws who'd saved him in a similar fashion? If this was karma coming back to bite him in the ass...

Well. It would not kill him to pay it forward, would it?

He slows near her, lowering the passenger side window and leaning forward in his seat. He adapts a soft, unassuming tone of voice, something befitting the layers he wears. )

Pardon me... Do you require a lift, ma'am?