Description: Kyle, after taking a beating from Elle's hired knife Yamazaki, calls in his own big guns.
Mike Haggar wakes up late, almost into the afternoon. He attempts to deny the sun, burrowing his hungover head into the pillows, huge frame curling up on the right side of his extra-large bed, but eventually the alarm sounds again. He slaps it, and succumbs to the day.
He performs his morning routine as if carrying a grudge against life itself, showering, brushing his teeth, flossing, eating a ridiculous breakfast while still in his robe. He's not expected at the office today, so he'll be damned if he bothers to even go in. Haggar has been doing the bare minimum lately.
It's almost noon by the time he's cleared his head enough to stumble upon his cell phone, plugged into the charger, red light blinking. He listens to the message, surprise on his face. He hasn't seen or heard anything of this kid since he was... well, a kid!
"Hey, Big Mike. Cody's brother Kyle. Yeah, I know we haven't talked in years, and I know you've got some problems of your own going right now. ... but I gotta ask you for a favor. I got a lead on where Cody's been, but... fucker who gave it to me put me in the hospital! Leg's torn to shit and I need a ride to some docks here in Southtown. You can't do it, that's cool too, just thought I'd give you a call, see if you could help me out. Even with a bum leg, I think the two of us could take down any of these Southtown punks."
He listens to the message a few times before punching in the return number.
Kyle Travers is only waking up now, too, but for a different reason: he's on painkillers by the truckload. Even Crash didn't put the hurt on him like this, and he had a half-dozen goons rough him up in a back alley after the fight. Yamazaki, to put it delicately, went wild on the younger brother of Cody Travers, and Marie Howard Memorial Hospital has taken a somewhat laid-back approach to fixing everything up. "He's a fighter, they heal fast anyway, just pump him full of painkillers and he'll be fine in a day or two," they said.
This has its upsides; the only reason he can get to the phone is because he can't feel his leg crying out in agony with every step. The dull throbbing pain is there, certainly, but it's not half as bad as it could be. He slams a hand down on the table, mutters something about anyone with more than a six-year degree being an enormous prick, and picks up the phone.
His voice sounds exactly like Haggar would expect. The remainder of fight adrenaline that let him make a fully coherent phone call when he woke up last night is almost definitely entirely gone now, replaced with a somewhat strained tone as Kyle tries to keep the soreness of his leg out of his voice, badly. "If you aren't looking for a gutted fish out of water, you got the wrong number," he starts with his usual sarcastic tone, his voice surprisingly clear through the strain.
Definitely Cody's brother.
Haggar might have taken off his robe at this point, tracking down a pair of pants to pull them on. It's entirely possible he'll be taking a quick trip out of the country before the day is over. "Well I'll be damned, kid, it is you." The Mayor's voice is pretty unmistakable, thick as it is through a few days of seeing little use.
Kyle is a little surprised that Haggar really bothered to call him back, after shirking some of his mayorly duties recently. It's an honor, in his mind -- he instantly straightens up a little, almost throwing his leg out even worse right there. "Yeah, it's me. Good to hear from you, Mayor." He forces a smile, one that can be heard through the phone, as he adds, "Get some water. Maybe some Gatorade." He's got a good ear for hangovers.
"I'm fine." Haggar lies. It's easier to lie over the phone. "You said you knew something about Cody? He's been avoiding me for the last two years." It's clear where Haggar's priorities lie.
"Yeah, fucker who beat me up said he and that guy Big Bear -- you know, the wrestler -- went and trashed him a little while back," Kyle says, making a bit of a face that comes through in his voice. "I don't know what shit Cody's in anymore. But the bastards mean business. The guy they sent after me was this big guy. Knife, two-toned hair. I think he might even hit harder'n you."
Haggar's exhalation speaks clearly of his disappointment, but he masters it quickly. "Yeah, all I ever hear about him these days is that someone beat him up, or that he beat someone else up. That doesn't leave enough of a trail, though." He's silent for a moment.
"That sounds like that Yamazaki punk. He usually stays out of Metro, don't know much about him. Lemme guess, he's got something to do with this help you need."
"Well, shit, Cody can't have that many enemies. Fifty bucks says if we put a list together we'll at least know what's givin' him -- wait!" Here we go. Kyle's remembered something -- he's managed to see through his own world of hurt for a moment and remember something useful.
"Yamazaki started calling Cody a washout junkie." There's something after that that's on the tip of Kyle's tongue, something that's patently obvious but that he doesn't want to say. Not about his brother. He forgets his own troubles entirely for a moment.
The Mayor's voice is bland. "Yeah, hang on, let me get the list. Mad Gear, Skull Cross, Rolento's gang, the Japanese government, the US government, Shadaloo, the Southtown Syndicate..." Haggar snorts. "Want me to go on, kid?" Haggar just goes right on by the 'washout junkie' comment. Some things he doesn't want to dwell on.
Kyle is silent for a long time. Hearing that from Haggar is downright crushing. Even with all the rumors he's heard, all the bad things that have floated around the Travers name, hearing it that flatly from that source is difficult. "... god dammit, Cody," he groans. "God dammit."
He yanks the empty bed across from his own over with his good foot, and sits down on it. If the hospital can't be arsed to have phones where people in the beds can access them, he isn't worried about the mess. "They said they tracked him down, though. Maybe if /we/ track down that /Yamazaki/ bastard again we can figure out who's got his leash and where Cody's staying."
Some heat creeps into Haggar's voice. "You know what? Cody's got a whole lot of his own shit going on, and every time I try to give him a hand, he punches me in the face and takes off. Maybe I'm starting to get a bit tired of it. You can do what you want for him, but I'm going to give him some time to sort himself out, because he sure as hell isn't letting me help." That bark of authority has crept into his tone, and he waits the five required seconds. Five seconds is all it takes for what he says to sink in.
"Now. Seems to me you had some problems of your own you needed some help with, kid."
Kyle knows better than to press an issue when Haggar gets angry about it. He backs off. It's important to him, but if Haggar can't get him to put his shit together, Kyle -- while his hope does begin to flag -- is at least willing to let it drop for now. Right -- back to his own business.
When Haggar eventually speaks up again, Kyle nods in spite of the fact that Haggar can't see it. "... yeah. There's this ship I'm supposed to get on -- this beginning fighters thing. Kinda fruity, but I figured, why not? Then I figure whoever was /actually/ supposed to deal with me sent this Yamazaki guy to break my legs so I couldn't get on the ship."
He cracks a grin. "If they can send someone to keep me off the ship for 'em, I bet I can hitch a ride with someone who could kick the ass of anyone in the poor bastard across from me's price range." He's half the world away and he's asking for... a security escort.
Dirty deeds in a tournament? Haggar pulls the phone away from his ear after hearing that, so that he can pull on a black tanktop. The hangover's slowly clearing, as these things tend to when the body gets moving, and he starts hunting down his leather gloves. Probably in the closet. "Jinchuu." Seems Haggar's not /entirely/ head-in-the-sand.
"You know what? Say no more. Nothing pisses me off more than dirty dealing in what should be a fair fight." The gloves are on, and Kyle might hear a snap as Haggar puts his leather strap on over his chest.
"I'll be in the community center by tomorrow. Bounce back, it's in your blood."
Travers is perfectly willing to hold for a little while if Haggar needs to get ready to get it done. After all -- this is the man himself. Listening closely to Haggar's every word, Kyle nods once more when he hears the snap of the strap. That's the Haggar he knows.
"See you tomorrow, big man," he affirms, before adding, "Bunch of sneaky bastards in this Jinchuu thing. I'll be careful on my way there." He quiets down after that, in case Mike has any last words.
Haggar doesn't. He has to warm up, get a ticket, make sure the right people know he's over there... make sure the wrong people /don't/... and he's gotta shave.
The phone snaps closed.
Log created on 19:51:58 08/23/2007 by Haggar, and last modified on 15:52:48 08/24/2007.