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It was only a matter of time before he would reset, that was inevitable. It would only take a lapse in concentration of a second, stepping through a door, maybe even around a corner. And then, Vyvyan was sure, the studs would be back and he would be trackable again.
Which presented three thoughts. Firstly, what was the range of the tracking? If it was satellite, CLIFF would get a hit as soon as he reset. If it was local and using a device carried by Mike, well, they would probably never find him.
Secondly, assuming they did track him, they would still have to catch up with him, so once he reset he would need to move fast. The limit of his teleportation was about a mile at most, less if it was a few days since he reset, and he needed to be able to visualise his destination. He may well be able to outrun them though. But if he needed to be on the move, there was no point in renting an apartment.
Thirdly, if they did catch him, they would kill him.
The obvious answer was a vehicle. So after spending the night in an actual hotel, he took what was left of his savings and shoebox money to the first car dealership he found. He'd had the foresight to get a fake driving licence anyway. Hard to go on the run if you can't drive.
How did the A-Team do it? Big black van that they exploded through things in and plenty of access to helicopters? Well, there was nothing that fancy in his price range, and besides, it was hardly undercover if you went around in a giant black van.
He looked at nondescript white vans. He could drive it, and sleep in it, and that would probably keep him safe.
But then he spotted the ice cream van. A van with a freezer might come in handy for storing food in. Or dead bodies. Hopefully it wouldn't come to dead bodies, though.
An hour later he drove off in the van, with Duster wheeling excitedly across the floor in the back.
A minute after that he remembered that they drive on the right in this country, and they got off to a better start.
He'd picked Las Vegas as his starting point because he'd heard the hotels were cheap. Other than that, he didn't really know where else to go. So the first thing he did was to get gas, a road map, and stock up his freezer with some food. He threw in an actual tub of ice cream and some cones for good measure, and because it was baking hot here. He parked the van and started looking at the map to decide where to go next. Money was going to run out soon, but there was bound to be cash in hand jobs along the way for a guy capable of pushing walls with his bare hands.
Tap tap tap
Vyvyan looks up. Someone is tapping on the window on the side of the van. He opens it. A small child looks up at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Ice cweem pweese!" the small child said, between sucking his thumb and hopping from one leg to the other.
Oh yeah. Crap. Vyvyan dug the tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and the cones, and scooped a handful of the ice cream into the cone out of vision of the child. Should have bought spoons.
"Er... that's a dollar." he said, having no idea what the currency round here is worth. But the kid seemed happy with that, and handed him the grubby quarters, before going off happily licking his ice cream.
Vyvyan looked at the coins.
He drove to the next convenience store and spent the last of his money on five more tubs of ice cream and a spoon. And then he parked next to the playground.
Two hours later, he bought another ten tubs and some sprinkles and sauce.
At the end of the day, he stared at the money in one of the empty tubs. He hadn't counted it yet, but he knew it was about what he made in a week in his last job.
He made one more shopping trip to the shiny new 'Walmart' shop he'd passed nearby, to get a camp bed and a portable TV. He and Duster spent the evening sitting on the camp bed watching television.
This could work.
Which presented three thoughts. Firstly, what was the range of the tracking? If it was satellite, CLIFF would get a hit as soon as he reset. If it was local and using a device carried by Mike, well, they would probably never find him.
Secondly, assuming they did track him, they would still have to catch up with him, so once he reset he would need to move fast. The limit of his teleportation was about a mile at most, less if it was a few days since he reset, and he needed to be able to visualise his destination. He may well be able to outrun them though. But if he needed to be on the move, there was no point in renting an apartment.
Thirdly, if they did catch him, they would kill him.
The obvious answer was a vehicle. So after spending the night in an actual hotel, he took what was left of his savings and shoebox money to the first car dealership he found. He'd had the foresight to get a fake driving licence anyway. Hard to go on the run if you can't drive.
How did the A-Team do it? Big black van that they exploded through things in and plenty of access to helicopters? Well, there was nothing that fancy in his price range, and besides, it was hardly undercover if you went around in a giant black van.
He looked at nondescript white vans. He could drive it, and sleep in it, and that would probably keep him safe.
But then he spotted the ice cream van. A van with a freezer might come in handy for storing food in. Or dead bodies. Hopefully it wouldn't come to dead bodies, though.
An hour later he drove off in the van, with Duster wheeling excitedly across the floor in the back.
A minute after that he remembered that they drive on the right in this country, and they got off to a better start.
He'd picked Las Vegas as his starting point because he'd heard the hotels were cheap. Other than that, he didn't really know where else to go. So the first thing he did was to get gas, a road map, and stock up his freezer with some food. He threw in an actual tub of ice cream and some cones for good measure, and because it was baking hot here. He parked the van and started looking at the map to decide where to go next. Money was going to run out soon, but there was bound to be cash in hand jobs along the way for a guy capable of pushing walls with his bare hands.
Tap tap tap
Vyvyan looks up. Someone is tapping on the window on the side of the van. He opens it. A small child looks up at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Ice cweem pweese!" the small child said, between sucking his thumb and hopping from one leg to the other.
Oh yeah. Crap. Vyvyan dug the tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and the cones, and scooped a handful of the ice cream into the cone out of vision of the child. Should have bought spoons.
"Er... that's a dollar." he said, having no idea what the currency round here is worth. But the kid seemed happy with that, and handed him the grubby quarters, before going off happily licking his ice cream.
Vyvyan looked at the coins.
He drove to the next convenience store and spent the last of his money on five more tubs of ice cream and a spoon. And then he parked next to the playground.
Two hours later, he bought another ten tubs and some sprinkles and sauce.
At the end of the day, he stared at the money in one of the empty tubs. He hadn't counted it yet, but he knew it was about what he made in a week in his last job.
He made one more shopping trip to the shiny new 'Walmart' shop he'd passed nearby, to get a camp bed and a portable TV. He and Duster spent the evening sitting on the camp bed watching television.
This could work.