Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes in anyway shape or form. All property of the TV show Heroes is owned by NBC studios the creative minds of Tim Kring, et al.
Heroes: The Corrupted
Episode 2: Bruised
Peter Petrelli
New York City, New York
Peter's eyes were glazed over as he was painting a fresh canvass. A hooded figure slowly emerged from what a forest that was emblazoned in flames. There was a golden chain that hung mid way on his chest and looked like a melted cross. Smoke rose from his shoes, the earth scorched in his wake. Peter pulled out of the trance with a startle as the front door opened. Claire walked in, throwing her purse on the kitchen counter and then slammed open the door leading to his enclosed porch.
"What is with you," she said, "you leave your brother's grave to do what…paint? That's more important."
"You wouldn't understand Claire," he said as he put down the brush and pallet and took the painting from the easel placing it on a drying rack.
"I lost a father," she said, "Do you know what that feels like?"
"I DO!" seethed Peter, "Nathan and I had planed to testify against him before he killed himself, I betrayed him. And I killed Nathan. I didn't lose him, I killed my own brother!"
"He made his own action," said Claire, "he was my hero."
"Then I was the villain," replied Peter as he walked away wiping his hands with a dirty towel.
Claire followed him, "no, you are not. You are my hero too Peter, you've always been since homecoming."
"That man is dead," replied Peter as he entered the kitchen and washed his hands under the faucet with soap.
"Just because your brother is dead," said Claire as she sat at the counter on a stool, "doesn't mean you are."
Peter sighed and opened the refrigerator door, "want something to eat?"
"Got any apples," asked Claire, "unless you wanna cook a full meal."
Peter pointed to the counter that had apples in a bowl. Claire frowned and pressed one of them to find out they were plastic. She coughed to get Peter's attention and held up the apple dropped it on the counter. It bounced once and rolled off to the hardwood floor. Peter laughed and took out some loose cold cuts he had from the deli. He placed them on the table and took a slice rolling it around a piece of cheese.
"That is so not healthy," said Claire as she took a slice.
"Don't let it stop you," replied Peter as he chewed, "It's so good."
"Where did you pick up this habit of snacking," she asked as she nibbled on a slice of prosciutto.
"Dad used to take me and Nathan down to the kitchens at night and rolled out a platter," said Peter a reminiscent look on his face, "it was the boys time together, we'd eat in silence, occasionally watch recaps of sports on the small black and white TV the cooks had setup there. It was one of the few times that I can say dad and I bonded; I don't believe I was his favorite."
"That's so horrible to say," Claire voiced between chews, "so you weren't close with him?"
Peter looked at his metallic toaster and saw Nathan's reflection next to him. He knew it was a hallucination, an illusion from his subconscious. Nathan's face nodded. He turned back to Claire.
"Dad loved Nathan," said Peter, "like most fathers' do with their first children. I was dotted on by my mom, mostly."
"Can you tell me more of my father," said Claire as she took another piece of prosciutto, "and my Grandfather?"
"I don't know the whole story," admitted Peter, "both men were very secretive, but I will tell you what I know…again."
"I always like hearing it from you," said Claire.
Telling it is the hard part, thought Peter as he glanced back at the toaster's reflective surface to see Nathan scowling.
Mohinder Suresh
Chiapas, Mexico
"Um…Where…Donde esta…Senora Gordon?" he asked flipping through a phrase book.
"Senora es muerta," She is dead replied an old woman from town, "la gente de pueblo diga que un padre matase. Ellos son loco en la cabezza, un padre no matase algo." the people in town say that a priest kiled her. They are crazy (in the head), a priest doesn't kill anyone.
"Um…" replied Mohinder as he was flipping through his phrase book, "tu habla…ingles?"
"Ingles? No, yo no hablo la idioma," English? No, I don't speak that language replied the old woman, "pero, la doctora se habla." But the doctor speaks it.
"Um…donde esta…la doctora," asked Mohinder.
"Ella esta en el centro de pueblo," She's in the center of town replied the woman, "derecha de la mercado." right of the market.
"Yo…no comprendo," Mohinder was confused.
"No se preocupe," Do not worry yourself said the old woman, "se me llama," I'll call she went into her house and picked up the phone to call the doctor.
Mohinder waited outside looking over his phrase book and smiling as people walked by. Not knowing the language had really limited his search, but he wanted to find this Meredith Gordan. Bennet had mentioned the name during his research, testing and tracking of evolved individuals. No matter what he looked for, her genetic code never seemed to come up, so he wanted to see this person for himself. See if she might want to come back, and if not maybe donate some blood for the project. It had been five years and research, like any other, was a slow process. Even a translator would speed up items, but one had yet to be appropriated to him.
He questioned why he remained with the company after Thompson's death. The hours were long, the pay was better then university work in India or driving a cab, but it felt more like a business than a research institute. He took out his cell phone and checked the time; it was getting close to afternoon. He touched the speed dial for Bennet's cell phone and waited three rings before the man picked up.
"How's Mexico," asked the man on the other line.
"It's rather humid but nice," replied Mohinder as he wiped the sweat from his brow, "I've got a problem."
"Problem," repeated Bennet, "what seems to be the problem?"
"Meredith Gordon seems to be dead," said Mohinder, "well, that's what a villager told me…said she was killed."
"Have you visited the body?" asked Bennet, "I need you to get information on how she died."
"I was going to talk with town doctor," Mohinder said as he watched a woman in a flannel shirt that was tucked into jeans and boots walk in his direction, "and visit the site, would pictures be good?"
"Yes," replied Bennet, "and a corners report as well, the doctor's might be all they have. I'll contact you if I get any information up on her, but…that seems unlikely."
The woman in the flannel shirt stood in front of Mohinder with her hand stretched out in greeting; "hello, I'm Cecile Basque. I'm from Doctor's without Borders and currently stationed here. Senora Vasquez called me saying you wanted to speak with me about Meredith Gordon?"
"Uh…I'm Mohinder Suresh," said the geneticist as he fumbled around with his hands moving the cell phone to the other ear, he then turned to the cell as he shook her hand, "I'll call you back Bennet, adios."
He clicked the phone shut and turned to Cecile, "Sorry about that, business partner."
"Life insurance?" she asked her arms crossed in front of her with a look of disdain that besmirched her face taking all traces of Iberian beauty from that oval canvass, "you guys are just blood suckers when it comes to the dead, even internationally."
"Senora Basque," pleaded Mohinder, "you've got me all wrong, I am a geneticist and I was looking for Senora Gordan because of a project back in the states. You might have heard of it, the Human Genome Project."
"You're about as much a part of the Human Genome Project as I am a part of the Zapatistas," replied the doctor, "follow me to my office and then maybe you can tell me hat it is you do."
"Thank you…for your help Senora Basque," said Mohinder as they entered a small room that served as her office, "this is quant, reminds me of Chennai University's offices."
"It's temporary," replied the doctor as she opened up a file cabinet, "and please call me Cecile, or Doctor Basque, not Senora."
"Sorry, the language and customs are a bit foreign to me," replied Mohinder as he looked around the desk at documents written in Spanish, English, German and French and pictures with other people in front of monuments; "you've been with Doctor's without Borders for a long time?"
"Is that a question or statement," she asked as she continued to look through files.
"Both, I guess," he said sitting down, "would finding the file be found faster if I told you my job here?"
"Perhaps," replied Cecile Basque, "oh and please sit down."
Mohinder jumped up like he was electrocuted, "well…it's a bit of clandestine research…I guess. But my father, Dr. Chandra Suresh, theorized that evolution has reached a point where individuals gain certain abilities. Abilities unlike that of anything previous to the species and can lead to horrible events or a terrific break through in science. Meredith Gordon is one of these people; will you now help me out now?"
"If you're going to be that ambiguous," she said sitting down at the table throwing down a file and flipping it open to reveal a picture of the burnt out insides of a trailer, "then maybe you can answer me what this is," she pointed to the picture, "it was around three days ago or so, no one noticed anything except an odd priest asking for where Meredith Gordan lived. And trust me, Suresh, I've seen fire damage before…it is not localized to the interior of trailers like this, it would have tried to climb out the windows to get to more air supply, but there is no mark next to the windows, nor the door or any other point to the outside.
"Secondly," she flipped to another photo of the primary fire origin and two shoes that were charred and melted to the ground, "even in alleged cases of spontaneous combustion, there is a trace of human body parts left. An arm, a leg, even a foot for the shoes that were left, but there is nothing left of Meredith Gordon except carbon ashes. Cremators are lucky to get that good of a burn on the first go. Now tell me, what could do this to a human body, Suresh?"
"I'm afraid that I can't," replied Mohinder, "it's a simple problem of trust…and I can see the lack of it between us."
"Keep your secrets," replied the doctor as she took the file away, "and I'll keep my findings."
Mohinder paused for a minute or two in contemplation, "it's the lesser of two evils," he finally said with a sigh, "Meredith was a…she could create fires and control them. That's probably why there were no remains of her; in stressed situations, these powers sometimes consume the bodies of these individuals."
"What do you mean she can control fire," said Cecile as she opened the file and flipped through it, "and consumed? This has happened before?"
"Twice of major documentation," replied Mohinder, "one of which I saw personally. If she had been shot or something like that, then…this could be the result," he waved his fingers at the photo of the last remains of Meredith Gordon.
"What…the…fuck…" expressed Cecile quizzically.
"Many have that response," said Mohinder pausing afterwards, "Do mind if take some of those photos? My partner would be interested in them, as well as the reports you've made."
"Certainly," replied Cecile in shock, "since she had no next of kin here, what should I do with the remains?"
"Actually, if you didn't mind," said Mohinder, "I know of a connection between her and someone that would like to see her properly interned, may I take Meredith home to her?"
"Yes," said Cecile as she went to the mantle piece and grabbed a copper urn, "this is her. Would you like to visit the site and collect some personal items that may have survived?"
"May I take some of my own photos as well," asked Mohinder as he held the file and the urn, "do you need a copy of this for Doctors without Borders?"
"Hardly, I've done all I can here for the people…TB is down and that's pretty much all they asked me to do," she replied gathering her keys, "and you can take your own pictures."
"Thank you," said Mohinder as he held the door open with his foot.
Cecile looked at him and laughed and held the door for herself, "it's the dark Land Rover at the cross roads," Mohinder nodded and started to walk over squinting as the bright sun hit him in the face.
Matt Parkman
Potomac, Maryland
Inside the bathroom of his new house, Matt wiped off the steam on the mirror created from his shower. He stared at his jaw turning his head from side to side as he reached for his shaving cream and a fresh razor blade. He began shaving and then heard foot steps coming to the room. Why is she calling now he heard his wife think as she opened the door.
"We don't knock anymore," he asked.
"You can hear me coming," replied his wife, "it's Audrey, she needs to talk to you."
Matt outstretched his hand for the phone as he wiped the white foam from his face and kissed his wife on the cheek; putting the phone to his ear he walked into the master bedroom to pick out his suit for the day, "hello, Audrey, what's up?"
"You need to come in now," she said desperately, "you need to be here 30 minutes ago, I can't believe this, I don't know how it's happened. It's a nightmare."
"Whoa whoa whoa," said Matt as he was putting on his shirt and witching the phone from ear to ear, "whats the deal, whats going on?"
"Someone's hacked onto our system," she yelled at him, "and has disabled all other systems for the FBI, CIA, DHS, NSA to track them. This guy is making us scramble around with our heads cut off and we can't even police ourselves to control the situation. Worst of all, all those program files of ours, videos of people using their…powers are being posted on YouTube and other sites by this hacker label McTruth. We need you down here for damage control right the fuck now!"
"Shit." Said Matt as he through on his pants and shoes with the rest of his clothing in hand and ran down the steps.
"Matt, what did Audrey…" started to ask his wife Janice at the bottom of the stairs as she helped little Matt put on a back pack.
"No time, major crisis," said Matt as he kissed his wife on the cheek and hugged his son as he rushed out of the house leaving the door open behind him.
"Will you be home for dinner?" yelled out Janice.
"No," yelled back Matt, he jumped into his sedan and quickly turned over the engine and pealed out of the drive way to make it to the FBI head quarters in Washington, D.C. Matt placed a Bluetooth headset on his ear and synced it with his phone calling back Audrey as he drove there. Getting an idea oh how big the security breach was, it seemed that all internal maintenance operations that would be used to combat this hack were paused or disabled. This was a problem to the whole government because if another branch was hit by hackers then the primary defenses would be the only thing in the way. They needed to find this hacker and fast.
Matt ran up the stairs as fast as he could, hustling all the way. He tore through the Investigative Service branch to get to the door of his office in Special Investigative Service as he pulled his arm through a sleeve in his suit jackets. He walked around to his desk and sat down to look at his computer screen. The files on all recorded individuals and incidents of people with special abilities were being transferred to another computer.
"Fuck," breathed Matt as he tried to exit the transfer from his keyboard, an aim window popped up with the screen name McTruth.
McTruth: Nah uh uh, won't help you.
Matt typed back a response that read: Who are you? This is a federal offence, stop your action immediately. Agent Hanson ran in to see Matt sitting and typing at the keyboard.
"The tech crew said to unplug the machines," said Audrey as she reached for the power cables in the back of the computers.
"No," yelled Matt, "I got this fuck on instant message, get tech to track it."
"Matt, our secrecy is blown and secure files are being lost," said Audrey as she unplugged her computer, "we need to stop this now."
The ding of a new instant message came from McTruth: Tell Agent Hanson to stop, or I will not hand the machines over to you again.
Matt typed back: I will if you tell me how you are doing this. He turned to Audrey and put his hand up motioning to wait. The door to the office opened again and in walked the Assistant Director of Operations for the FBI and representatives of the CIA and DHS.
"What the hell is going on here, Parkman," said the AD Elisa Thayer, "you were told to unplug the machines!"
Audrey tried to hold him off, "ma'am, we got in contact with hacker and Parkman is stalling him to see if we might get information."
"You have been compromised," said Thayer, "shut down now!"
There was another ding from the screen name McTruth: maybe you should look for the Wireless connection.
The representative of Homeland Security reached down and pulled the plug from the back from the computer. The monitor went blank as all the lights faded because of the loss of electirical power. Matt sighed and put his hands on his eyes leaning back. The Assistant Director of Operations put her hand on the back of Matt's chair and turned him around to be face to face. Matt looked up at the strawberry blonde haired women that had fixed lines of anger on her face.
"You have compromised this branch," she said seething, "and for what? A conversation with the hacker and the complete lose of all the work you've done for five years?"
"I got a way to find him," said Matt with a laugh.
"I don't care if you got his home fucking address," said Thayer.
"Wait," said the representative from the CIA, "I want to hear this, it could be of use to us."
"I don't care what the CIA wishes for," said Thayer, "this is my agency."
"I believe I'm the director of this agency," said a tall man with rosie cheeks and a slight South Boston accent, "seeing as the current director of the FBI is Cormac McCullen, and I be him."
Matt and Audrey stood up quickly, causing the chair to flip forward forcing Elisa Thayer to stumble. Everyone looked at the bemused face of the Director of Operations for the FBI. He sat down in Audrey's chair and folded his arms across his chest.
"So Agent Parkman this must be good," continued McCullen, "for putting all of the computers of the federal government at risk."
"I move for Agent Parkman's suspension," said Thayer as she stood up straight, "following a full investigation of the events that have occurred today."
"Your recommendation has been noted, Ms. Thayer," said McCullen now with a serious expression on his usually jovial face and turned to Parkman, "well," he said, "out with it Agent," I hope to God you have something good thought the Director.
"Well sir," said Parkman, "before the plug was pulled this McTruth mentioned a codeword Wireless."
Wireless can mean anything from your cordless phone to an internet connection thought Elisa Thayer, a sneer on her face, "so this is the break through you put us all at risk for?"
"Assistant Director Thayer," said Matt stressing the word 'assistant' noting the sparkle in the Director's eye, "Wireless is the code name for a person that this branch had known about since its creation five years ago."
"And what's so special about this person," asked the CIA representative that was thinking is this the same Wireless that has been trafficking the CIA information databases?
Matt Parkman's eye brow rose as he looked at the Director of Operations, who gave him a nod and thought don't let all the kittens out of the bag; Matt continued, "Wireless is the code name of a rogue Mossad intelligence agent. She has been cut loose from intelligence agencies for about five years now, but seems to be able to gain access to all intelligence networks from Argentina to Zambia."
"Why haven't you brought her in," said Thayer, this is a dereliction of duty and treason.
"That's the hard part," Matt turned to McCullen, "all our reports led to her death on a Chinese space expedition five years ago."
How the hell can a dead intelligence agent hack all the American branches at once thought the CIA agent. Matt looked at the group of suits that were all in the office of Special Investigative Service, he then looked at Audrey. What the hell do we do now Parkman, were the thoughts coming from her brain. Matt grabbed the power cord to his computer and placed it back in the machine.
"Will someone find out from tech if the line is secure now?" he asked as he sat down at his computer, "and tell those guys we need to remove all the information from the net and monitor the sites it was posted on? I have a job to do here, and I plan on getting it done."
McCullen got up from Audrey's chair and respectfully held it open for the lady to sit down, "C'mon boys and girl, lets leave these agents to their work. Parkman, I want a full report of today's events on my desk in the morning, same to you Agent Hanson, this is a security matter that must be investigated."
Thayer's face was marked with anger at being referred to as girl, she and the other suits from CIA and DHS left the office. Matt picked up Thayer's last few thoughts, how can McCullen do this! They deserved to be crucified for their actions today. Matt laughed to himself as he logged into the computer system. Audrey looked at him quizzically.
"You almost cost us our jobs today," said Audrey in a pissed off mood.
"I put us in the good book with McCullen," replied Matt as he tapped his head with a smile.
"He'd only be in a good mood if we captured this Wireless," said Audrey, "where is that case file anyway?"
"Check under the name Hana Gitelman," replied Matt, "and how do you propose we capture a cybernetic consciousness?"
"What?"
"She died taking out Linderman's tracking system," Matt continued, "but was fatally wounded doing so, and to survive, uploaded her consciousness to the internet."
"How the hell do we stop that," Audrey pointedly looked to Matt, "let alone contact her?"
"Would you prefer to use the phone, instant messenger, MySpace or her personal website," he replied with a coy smile and a brief laugh at the frustrated expression on Audrey's face.
Noah Bennet
Odessa, Texas
Bennet walked into the Primatech Paper Company and headed down the wooded hallway to the entrance of the research facility. He punched in the code and walked into the facility till he got to his office. He sat down and prompted his computer to turn on. He took out a folder that he had on Meredith Gordon and started to file the paper work for deceased. He thought back to the time that he and Claude had went to 'bag and tag' this person only to wind up creating a five alarm fire and adopting Claire. He sighed remember his meeting with Kaito Nakamura. His nostalgia was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Bennet looked up from the file, his horn-rimmed glasses fixed on his new boss and representative of the Company, "good-morning, Mr. Niemans."
"Bonjour, Monsieur Bennet," replied the middle-aged Frenchman with salt and pepper short cropped limp hair, weak chin and pronounced nose dressed in a chocolate brown suit and metallic gray button down shirt and chocolate tie, "how is the case," he indicated the file on table by tapping it with his middle finger.
"Unfortunately, I was contacted yesterday by Dr. Suresh," replied Bennet, "it seems that Ms. Gordon is dead."
"How unfortunate," said Niemans as he took a seat and crossed his legs leaning back, "so I expect Dr. Suresh will be back soon, correct?"
"He is collecting all the information from the scene currently," replied Bennet, "he should be back within the week."
"I do hope he does not concern people there," Niemans placed his finger tips together, tapping both index fingers every other second, "I would very much like to meet him, and to get a look at his research."
"He would also like to talk with you," replied Bennet, "seeing as you were not a name on the list and all."
"Ah, yes the infamous list," replied the new boss, "another item I would like to go over with Dr. Suresh. I know it must be hard for most to get used to new management around here…considering the issue of corruption and mismanagement issues of the past."
"That all changed five years ago, sir," replied Bennet coolly, "with Linderman and your predecessor's untimely death."
"That has brought up some concern with the upper brass," said Niemans, "you are a trusted member of this company, you have served us for a long time, honestly, but your action that did lead to my hiring and the return of order has also brought a question of your loyalty."
"During this five year transition period, I have remained with this company based on the promise of a better management and the ability to make a difference and protect innocent people," said Bennet, "the company under the direct command of Thompson and the idealistic human sacrifices proposed by Linderman persuaded me to forfeit my position. I was asked back here for help in this transition and to select you as our new boss. And you question my loyalty?"
Niemans saw that Bennet was beyond pissed, "calm, Monsieur Bennet, I did not mean to insult. It is just that, you have been partnered with Dr. Suresh for five years and it has been good for both of you, but the Company is ending that now."
Bennet continued to sit down, the file in front of him completely forgotten, "the partner's I've had in the past have not always been loyal. Dr. Suresh has been a friend, confidant and a welcomed guest at my house."
"And he can remain such to you, but no longer your partner," said Niemans, "I have seen to match you with a mild manner fellow named Fletcher, Harry Fletcher. He's an ex-S.W.A.T. officer for the NYPD and a highly decorated Marine Corp sniper that served in Iraq in '91 and 2003. I know that a heavy dossier for you to be teamed up with, but his power will defiantly help you through more of these meet and greets," the last part was ended on a wide, tooth showing smile.
Bennet shifted in his chair, "how do we know he's qualified to be a member of the Company."
"I've given him my own personal lie-detector test," replied Niemans with a smile, "are you satisfied with all this, Monsieur Bennet?"
"No," said Bennet honestly, "but I will do as the Company wishes."
Niemans stood up and out reached his hand for a shake, "it was good to have this conversation with you," Bennet shook his supervisor's hand, "and I hope you will continue to update me about Madame Gordon when Dr. Suresh contacts you next."
Niemans turned and headed out the door, his hand on the handle he turned back to Bennet, "oh and Monsieur Bennet, please watch what you tell la petite fille Walker." Bennet nodded, mixed feelings about having a special person as his supervisor that could tell his past actions and the continued actions of the Company and his new partner. Niemans walked out of the office and closed the door behind him. Bennet sat down and logged back on his computer. He searched the database for the name Harry Fletcher and pulled up his full dossier including psyche evaluation, medical reports and a picture of a young man with a freckled complexion, buzzed cut blonde hair, gray eyes and defined English jaw line. Bennet sighed and mumbled to himself.
"All-American-hero-want-to-be," he looked at the psyche report, "loose canon that will probably get himself killed if left alone. Great."
Abu Aswan
Montreal, Quebec
Abu Aswan was walking down the street after stopping by the local market. There was one paper bag tucked in his arm filled with food, the loose oranges on top, so that they did not bruise. It was a warm night as they were entering the summer months, so this middle aged, light skinned Arabic man with piercing dark eyes and neatly parted dark hair that was medium length was wearing a short sleeve button down shirt with the top button undone and khaki pants and flip-flops. He continued to walk back to his apartment which was only three blocks away when he heard heavy foot steps behind him.
He turned around, only to see darkness. This made the man nervous, especially after the events that had occurred in his life, like the unjust imprisonment in Israel and the branding of the name terrorist because of certain abilities. Abilities that he found that he could not have planned to receive, but now had to live with. If they found me, I will have to fight, he thought, I don't want too, but I must survive. He quickened his pace to his apartment and he heard the click of heavy boots against side walk again.
Breathing heavy, he ducked into a side alley and took out his prepaid cell phone and typed in the number two for the speed dial. It was the number that he was given by a friend, another person like him; well, with a different power. It rang three times before it as answered on the other end.
"Abu," answered a electronic sounding voice with the hint of an Israeli accent, "I told you to only use this if you are in danger."
"Wireless," he said into the receiver, "I believe I'm being followed."
"Where are you," said the person on the other line, "I can't see you through the street cameras."
"I ducked in an alley to get away from them," Aswan whispered into the phone.
"Move to the street," commanded the disembodied voice urgently, "now!"
"Okay," said Aswan as he started to walk to the lighted street as a dark cloaked figure moved into the alley way; it's hood was up blocking it's face in darkness, "who…who are you?"
"Are you Abu Aswan?" asked the cloaked figure as it moved forward, it's heavy boots clicking against the paved alley.
"What's going on," asked Wireless, through the phone, "whose there, Abu."
Aswan dropped the phone into a puddle as he started to walk backwards down the alley facing the stranger. He held his now free hand up into the air as he continued to back away. The strange cloaked figure moved close, the darkness from the alley starting to obscure Abu Aswan's vision.
"Are you Abu Aswan," asked the hooded figure again.
"Stay back, if you know what's good for you," said Abu as he started to push radiation from his hand making his skin look like it was glowing red, yellow and orange with the bones of his fingers highlighted underneath. The figure moved forward, unafraid of the power Aswan yield. Abu felt a sickening in his stomach, making him clutch his groceries harder. He looked up to his hand and saw it flicker between its radiated and regular state before coming to a rest. He tried hard to call forth his power, but to no avail.
"Take him," ordered the hooded figure, confusing Aswan and forcing him to turn around and see another cloaked figure move forward placing a black gloved hand to his forehead and forcing him to the ground. Abu tried to struggle as a hand was placed around his mouth and nose as well. He screamed out, but the noise was muffled as he was engulfed in darkness. The groceries he held fell from his grip, the oranges that were loose so as not to get bruised rolled down the alley. One came to a rest at the prepaid cell phone that Wireless was still connected too.
"Abu!" screamed Wireless through the phone, "Are you there? Are you hurt?"
The hooded figure from the mouth of the alleyway bent down to the puddle and picked up the cell phone, shaking off the water from it.
"Abu, is that you!" yelled Wireless.
"I regret to inform you," said the blunt husky voice from under the cloak and hood, "that Mr. Aswan is permanently indisposed," the cloaked figure then turned off the phone and crushed it to pieces in it's hand, letting the remnants drop next to the fallen orange. The figure walked forward to it's partner and the body of Abu Aswan, it's heavy boot slowly pressing against the vibrant colored orange, crushing it into a mess of peel, seeds and pulp.
A/N: The names of several characters are actual names from the show, such as Agent Elisa Thayer, Harry Fletcher and Abu Aswan, all of which were found from the HereosWiki site. Also, the last name Niemans is in reference to Crimson Rivers and Crimson Rivers II: Angles of the Apocalypse, and is based on the character role of Jean Reno as a French Special Investigator. Again, all reviews are welcome, so are sharing any ideas you might have of characters and powers. Thank you for reading.