(no subject)

Vyvyan had been reluctant to be a burden to the Sandersons again, but with his bike shelter cover blown and another storm on the way, he had limited options. He offered to pay them with his reward money when it came through, but they wouldn't hear of it.

"You can do some jobs around the church if you want." Mrs Sanderson suggested. "You can help me make the soup for the soup kitchen on Sunday."

So Vyvyan helped her make soup. Which turned out to be a lot easier than he had thought. Perhaps he'd be able to make some to sell in his new van until ice cream season picked up again.

"Mario, how would you feel about me coming with you to pick out the van tomorrow?" Rev Sanderson suggested, on Sunday evening.

"Why?" Vyvyan asked.

"Car salesmen are notorious for taking advantage, and you may have to sign some paperwork." Rev Sanderson said.

"Oh. Yeah, good point. I mean, if you don't mind." Vyvyan said.

"Not at all."

So the next day, the preacher drove Vyvyan to a reputable car lot. And if they had been planning to cheat Vyvyan, perhaps it put them off.

"I really think you'd benefit from a bathroom, Mario." Rev Sanderson said, although he was trying not to interfere. "And a kitchen too. I mean, I know the hummer is cool, but practically."

"The motorhomes stand out though." Vyvyan said.

"How about this compact little fella?" Rev Sanderson asked. "It's black, and it looks pretty close to a regular van from the outside."

Vyvyan went inside the motorhome and had a look. It was a little bit like a hummer, except with all the useful bits in.

An hour later, he drove his new home off the lot, and parked it in the church car park to go back inside and get his things. The preacher had gone on ahead, and Vyvyan made his way round to the back door.

He was just passing the kitchen window, when something in the corner of his eye made him duck back against the wall. He teleported quickly onto the roof and peeped down through the skylight.

Mr Balowski had a gun pointed at the Rev Sanderson, who had his hands raised up in the air.

"Where is he?" Balowski said.

"Who?"

Balowski took a picture out of his pocket, not dropping the gun down for a moment, and handed it over.

"We're searching for Vyvyan Bastard, better known as Weapon V. He's a dangerous psychopath and a murderer. You and your wife are in grave danger if you're harbouring him."

Vyvyan felt his heart race. He could flee for the van now, but leaving the preacher to potentially be killed by Balowski seemed a terrible act of cowardice. Rev Sanderson stared at the picture hard.

"Sorry son, never seen him before." the preacher said.

"He's been here." Balowski said. "He has trackers on his face. At least six have been registered here. You see the little stars on his face?"

The preacher looked at it very closely.

"Now one of those I have seen."

Vyvyan felt his stomach drop. The preacher went over to a little pot on the sideboard, and pulled the stud out. "It arrived in a box of Holy Water."

"Holy Water?" Balowski asked.

"Yes. So your fugitive is probably where the water was sent from. Do you want this star?"

"No!" Balowski drew his hand back, quickly. "Can you tell me the address, please?"

"I will get it for you if you will put the gun down."

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Balowski lowered the gun. The preacher fetched the address, and Balowski left quickly.

As soon as he was about to step outside, Vyvyan teleported back into the kitchen. The preacher, who had been praying quietly, looked up, then quietly ushered Vyvyan away from the windows.

"I'm sorry, did he hurt you?" Vyvyan asked. "I didn't mean to bring danger to your door, really."

"No, he didn't. And you didn't." The preacher said. "But I saw you appear, just then, so I think it's time for some answers. Starting with who, and if you'll forgive me, what, you are."

Vyvyan hesitated.

"My name is Vyvyan Bastard. I was experimented on against my will by an organisation called CLIFF, and I now have powers I don't fully understand. I'm not a psychopath or a murderer, but when I heal myself with my powers, when I reset, I get less sane. I escaped my minder and now I'm pretty sure if they catch me, they'll kill me."

The preacher listened, paused, and held out the stud.

"And what are these?"

"Tracking chips. When I reset, they grow back somehow. I've been pulling them off and sending them around. Where did you find that one?"

"Believe it or not, it actually did arrive in the box of holy water." the preacher said. "Presumably you generated four more of them after the accident in the storm, and that's what this man tracked."

Vyvyan nodded.

"I think he could still be watching." the preacher said. "How would you feel about staying here another night until we're sure he's gone? And then you teleport into the van, and Mrs Sanderson drive it out of the car park so that he doesn't realise it's yours?"

"Why are you so kind to me?" Vyvyan asked.

"Why not be?" the preacher asked.

Good point. Vyvyan agreed to the plan, hoping that Balowski wouldn't come back in again. They locked the doors.

Before he made his escape the next morning, the preacher handed him a bottle of holy water.

"I'm not sure why, but Mr Balowski appears to be unkeen on this. Take a bottle, in case it's useful."

Vyvyan thanked him again and put it in his bag. They exchanged a brief, slightly awkward hug, before he teleported out to the motorhome to make his escape.