Unsung Heroes
by: Ro & SkyRogue0567
Chapter 7: The Bomb Part I
AN's:
Chapters 7-9 are co-authored chapters, a result of excellent teamwork between SkyRogue and myself. I couldn't have done it without her, so three cheers for her!
I don't own Heroes. If I did, I'd have done all I could to keep Zach on, Claire's character is lacking without him.
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New York, 5:00 AM
D.L and Micah
D.L.'s POV
D.L. gripped his coffee cup with one hand like it contained gold, and kept his other hand on Micah's shoulder. He'd lived in Vegas long enough to know that these big cities were home to a lot of different dangers. On the other hand, Micah could probably outsmart any predator without even trying.
In their travels, he had learned that Micah's intelligence combined with his power over technology was truly a force to be reckoned with. D.L had to admit that without it, traveling here would have been much more difficult, probably even impossible. However, power and perceptiveness aside, Micah was still a bit naïve due to his age.
When D.L. saw yet another photo of a man on the bedside drawer he knew Jessica was working for Linderman again. He loved her, but she couldn't be trusted right now. The only choice left was to take Micah again and put as much distance between Jessica and them as possible.
In this electronic age, it was almost impossible to run without leaving some kind of trail behind. Back in the day, D.L. had never put much stock in book learning, preferring to school himself (and sometimes getting schooled) in the ways of street life. So, while he could take care of himself and those he cared about without much problem, actually managing to plan an escape that couldn't be traced was beyond him.
That's where Micah came in handy. With the insatiable curiosity of a child, he absorbed information at an astonishing rate, applied it with ease, and could recall even the smallest detail. Ironically, he could also rationalize theft and deception better than most professional crooks. Needless to say, this bothered D.L. constantly and he planned to talk to Micah about it later, but since it was key to their survival right now he thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.
"Hey Dad, check this out! It's the new edition of my favorite comic! Dad? Hey Dad! Are you awake?"
"Micah, it's 5 in the morning and I'm just starting my cup of coffee. What do you think?"
"I think we need to hit another ATM, this comic just cost us the last of our money."
D.L. coughed up the coffee he was sipping at the time. Great, I'm raising a little gangster. Jessica's going to kill me.
"I hope it was worth it."
"Actually, I think it was. Doesn't this Japanese guy here remind you of that guy we met back in the Vegas desert?"
"Sort of, but that could just be a coincidence."
"Read on, it says he has the power of time control. That can't just be a coincidence. Maybe the person who draws these knows them; we should find this….Isaac Mendez."
"Easier said than done, remember this is a huge place. Hundreds of thousands of people live here, finding some small time artist could take awhile."
"Not if we sneak into one of those internet cafés, I could use a computer to hack into the city's census records and find his last known address."
"Sounds like a plan, lead on boy wonder…"
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New York City, 7:30 AM
Isaac's loft
Isaac's POV
Isaac rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he contemplated going to wake up his new roommates. He really didn't want to leave the kitchen full of hard-earned, and delicious, breakfast aromas, but he needed to alert them to what he had just seen and apparently sketched on the notepad he kept in there. It was an old abandoned building with a decrepit sign hanging over it that read "Graymalkin General". There was also a halo of what looked like radioactivity around it, clearly indicating that it had something to do with the capture of their new comrade Ted.
As he went down the hall to the room where Zach was staying, Isaac sent up prayers to every known deity that Claire had, at some point during the night, left and went to her own room. Finding them together would just add a whole new level of awkwardness that he didn't need.
Thankfully, those prayers were answered and he found Zach sleeping alone. Isaac shook him awake and told him that breakfast was ready and to wake Claire and come have some. He'd have gone to wake her himself, but yet another early morning visitor was at his door knocking rather forcefully.
When Isaac opened the door he saw a large, disgruntled looking man who had a small child with him. If it hadn't have been for the child, Isaac would have immediately shut the door. The man looked like a stereotypical bouncer and Isaac wasn't particularly fond of being shaken down for the rent.
"Hello, are you Mr. Isaac Mendez?"
"That depends, who wants to know?"
"Do you have a power like us? Is that how you can paint about people that actually exist, like Hiro?"
"Micah!"
The kid, Micah, was evidently the curious type. Judging by what he said, Isaac figured their little group was going to get a little bigger today.
"I think we need to sit and talk. Please come in, have you all had breakfast yet?"
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NYC, 7:30 AM
Zach's POV
It had been a long night for Zach; the injuries from the blade bothered him a little more than he cared to admit. The last thing he remembered was Claire saying she had to go after spending a few hours back in his room reminiscing about the old days. The days before her power had manifested, they truly were the embodiment of "the good ol days".
The next thing he knows, Isaac is shaking him awake and telling him to go eat breakfast. Honestly, it irks him to be ordered around like that, it reminds him of being back home. They were staying with a man who was kind enough not to charge them rent though, so he bit back a retort and went to wake Claire.
He regretted it the moment he walked in. Claire looked so peaceful wrapped up in the blanket. More importantly, she looked happy, an emotion that didn't cross her face too often these days. She was on her back with her angelic, blonde hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her. Waking her up, losing that smile, was definitely not something Zach looked forward to doing.
Zach shook her awake anyway, with a Hero missing, they really didn't have time to waste.
"mmm….5 more minutes….Z-Zach?! What time is it?"
"Hell if I know, but Isaac's got breakfast ready, let's get some."
"Alright, just give me 5 minutes, I'll be down later."
"Why?"
Zach followed her eyes across the room and saw that her clothes had been thrown in the corner. Wait if her clothes are over there, then what….
"Oh! Sorry, I thought you were, you know, dressed already."
"Yeah right, that's why you barged into my room without knocking? God Zach, your such a pervert."
"You sleep naked, and I'm the pervert? Good one."
Zach quickly dodged the playfully thrown pillow and resisted the urge to turn around before exiting the room. Claire really was more fun when she wasn't carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. I wonder who Isaac's talking to. Seems a bit early for Hiro and Ando to be here…
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NYC, 12:30 PM
Isaac's loft
The Haitian
All of the gifted ones sat around him conversing amongst themselves. Had he still been working with The Company, he would have noticed what an excellent opportunity this was. It wasn't every day that the time bender, the painter, the healer, the technopath, the phase-shifter, the mind reader, and even the mimic were this close.
Unfortunately, the loss of the radioactive one, and the fatalities from the raid on the facility that had originally housed him, had turned the powers that be within The Company against him. He had originally intended to flee back to Haiti with the help of Mrs. Petrelli Sr., but the parable of the 3 servants showed him the proper path. He took his partner Bennet's memory of the location of the painter and wiped away all traces of Claire's escape from his mind in order to occupy The Company.
Now he sat here, listening to the group finalize their plan to free the radioactive one. It felt good to be a part of something that didn't fall under the various shades of gray between good and evil. He finally felt like he was serving the purpose God had set for him when he gave him the power to extract memories. If he wore his emotions on his sleeve, he would have smiled.
Then he caught sight of the both the mind reader and Claire looking at him out of the corners of their eyes. Since the moment Claire had seen him she had scarcely left her friend's side, no doubt for fear of him erasing the boy's memories again. Needed but not trusted, a fair recompense for his past sins.
His thoughts took him back to the raid on The Company's warehouse. The onslaught was brutal, the battle-scarred leader as merciless as his skin was dark. God help us all…
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NYC, 8:00 PM
Graymalkin General
Sylar's POV
Sylar stared at Ted.
Ted stared at Sylar.
Sylar stared at Ted.
Ted stared at Sylar.
Sylar sighed. "Don't even try. You'll be dead before you can scream."
Sylar leaned forward from his chair to grab a brand new package of cards lying on the table in front of him, looking quite out of place in the dusty and dingy dungeon-like room. Ted quickly masked his look of shock with one of innocence.
"I wasn't planning anything." He lied. He had, in fact, been just about to discreetly burn through the duct tape that bound him to the quite uncomfortable steel chair he was currently sitting in.
Sylar shrugged as he opened the package with a resounding rip and began shuffling the cards, resting his feet on the table in front of him and leaning his chair back on two legs casually. "Just keep telling yourself that. We both know it isn't true."
They were both quiet, excluding the shuffling of cards.
"Would you cut that out?" Ted growled. Sylar waited a moment before throwing the cards haphazardly on the table so they scattered and holding up his hands in mock innocence, while Ted resisted the urge to roll his eyes. For a serial killer, this Sylar guy was really annoying.
This is so freakin' boring. Sylar thought contemptuously. Why in the world had Letalis left him behind to play babysitter to some flannel-wearing redneck with serious anger problems?! My purpose is greater than this; it should have been me leading the raid, not Letalis.
In a last-ditch effort to quell his rising boredom, Sylar dropped his chair back on four legs and put his feet down. Slowly, as if he was following step-by-step instructions, he folded his arms across the table, leaned forward, and then suddenly dropped his head onto them. It took less than fifteen seconds before he raised it back up again, eyes squinting as if sensitive to the light..
"You play poker?" He asked desperately.
Ted's eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open.
"Fine." Sylar snapped. He pooled the cards together into a stack as best he could and raised them with a flourish before going back to his previous past-time of shuffling cards, much to Ted's annoyance. Sylar smirked and shook his head in childish amusement.
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NYC Slums, 8:00 PM
Claire and Co.
Claire sneezed for what seemed like the billionth time of the evening as she walked along the sidewalk of the busy New York streets. She was seriously starting to get bugged. She had no idea of what it was in this slightly humid New York air, but she was allergic to something. Apparently her healing ability did not apply to allergies, she thought dejectedly. Spring was always a troublesome time for her and allergies. Claire thought she'd never forget those miserable Texas springs spent in a swarm of oak pollen and tissues. She'd thought she'd seen the back of those when she found out about this handy ability she had and left Texas, but it seemed like her problems had grown fond of her and liked to tag along.
She sneezed again and felt like smashing her head open on the brick wall of the building next to her.
The new guy, D.L., chuckled lightly at her misery. She scowled at him. Normally, she was a bundle of joy and never one to take jokes to heart, but right now in between all the sneezing and sniffing of a runny nose, she just wasn't in the mood. D.L.'s grin slid off his face like a particularly disgusting sludge and he quickly walked ahead to avoid the death glare she was sending him. Wow. She thought, That's never happened before…
She sneezed again, and the little good humor that came with this discovery shot out of her like boogers from her nose after that particularly violent sneeze.
As they continued on their predetermined path, Claire took a moment to take stock of her surroundings. She immediately scrunched her nose at the evident slummy nature of the streets. The decrepit buildings sagged under the weight of many years and abuse of local hoodlums. Though the people they saw were few and far between, she caught the lecherous grins of passing thugs, but thankfully they were checked by the presence of D.L., whom she silently thanked for accompanying her. As they moved forward, the buildings became spaced farther and farther apart and the people practically non-existent, a blessing for their mission. She watched as the boarded up windows and instances of graffiti multiplied with each step until D.L. gave her a significant look.
Finally they had reached the identified building. Claire glanced at it before discreetly following D.L. down a side alley to meet the others crouched behind a dumpster. It was a run-down abandoned hospital. The windows were heavily boarded with cheap graffiti sickened plywood. The entrance was a set of tarnished steel double doors that had a set of sunken and cracked steps leading up to them. She read "Graymalkin General" in bold print above an awning strategically placed above the door. The name certainly fits. She thought. And it did. The whole place had an air of gray about it. Of gray corpses and gray clouds of dust and gray, dismal lives. Claire allowed a shudder.
They were the last to arrive since the group had decided to leave Isaac's at different times so as not to draw attention to themselves along the way. As she reluctantly squatted down next to Peter on the filthy ground, he addressed the group.
"Good, we all made it. So is everyone clear on the plan?"
They all nodded and made noises of affirmation, but Peter looked dubious.
"Well, just to make sure, the plan is for Matt to listen for Ted's thoughts and figure out his general location. Then, D.L.," D.L. nodded, "you head over to wherever Matt finds them. When you get there, radio us." Here Peter lifted up a green walkie-talkie decorated with yellow army men that Claire had to bite a laugh off at. It was one of Nathan's boys' toys. "We'll make some kind of distraction if someone's in there with him, and then you do your thing, get him out, and radio us again. If all goes well, then we'll all go home after this." Here Peter paused as if considering the worst.
"If something happens, like D.L. gets caught or one or us does, Plan B is for me to head in there. Plan C, Matt comes along."
Claire frowned. "Hey wait… What about me and that guy?" She gestured at the Haitian man, who had yet to tell everyone his name.
Peter got a serious look on his face and said, "He's Plan D and you're E."
"I'm the last resort." She more stated than asked, disbelieving. Peter took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face.
"Look, I didn't even want to bring you along, but you insisted-"
"Because I wanted to help! Not just sit around by a smelly dumpster!" Claire cut in.
"Hey, guys, we really can't afford this right now. We need to get Ted out of there already, before Sylar kills him or something." Matt interrupted. Peter nodded grimly and Claire huffed before scooting slightly away from Peter.
"Right." Peter said. "So, Matt, go ahead."
Matt nodded, closed his eyes, and bowed his head in concentration. He felt thoughts assaulting him from those around him…
Stupid, pompous, piece of-
Gonna get herself killed-
Thinks he knows everything-
Man, damn papercut--
And he shook his head to clear it, instead pushing himself past these thoughts as he would through a crowd and searched farther. He felt skinny tendrils of thought, pulling at him, tugging him, beckoning him. He quickly followed them to the hospital's entrance, down the main hall, to the right, and down, down, down... Behind the door…
This is so freakin' boring…
And Matt snapped back, his chest heaving as if his body had sprinted all that way and not just his mind. He took time to catch his breath while the others looked at him impatiently and worriedly.
"It's Sylar. He's got Ted, on the the other side of the hospital, bottom floor, in the corner."
D.L. nodded. "Got it." He stood up and looked at them, as if wondering if they were going to stop him. When he evidently got his answer he began walking down the alley before turning out of sight.
"Right, well, I guess I better go cause a distraction." Peter said with a grin while standing as well and moving to follow D.L. at a distance.
It was not even a minute after they left before Claire gave up on staying clean and dropped completely to the ground, leaning against the grimy, slimy wall for support.
"So what now? We just wait here?"
"Mmhm." mumbled Matt.
"Then why did we have to bring so many people anyway?" Nobody answered her. She banged her head lightly against the wall. "Oh my God, this is so retarded."
…
She sneezed.
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D.L. walked casually along the sidewalk, trying not to draw attention even though he didn't see anyone in the street. His careless gait, however, was interrupted by an animal sounding frustrated screech that sounded vaguely like Claire, and he curiously turned around to find the source. He looked questionably at Peter, but Peter looked back with the same look and shrugged his shoulders, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a slight grin. D.L. shrugged in return and turned back to continue his path. A single cab drove by just before he turned into the second alley. It looked the same as the first and he wondered if there was some regulation for how an alley in New York had to look.
Let's see, graffiti covered walls, check. Overflowing dumpster, check. Fighting cats… He waited a moment as two cats darted out from behind the dumpster, clawing and hissing before they chased each other out the other end. Check. He thought with a smirk. He got to the end of the hospital wall, where he assumed is where Matt meant by "the corner." He lifted the ridiculous walkie-talkie to his mouth and whispered, "Peter? Are you in position?"
"Affirmative. It's a go, wait for the crash. Over." Fuzzily came back to him. D.L. had to resist the urge to burst into laughter right then. They were having too much fun when they were supposed to be serious. D.L. reflected on how all their lives could be at stake here, and stiffened at that sobering thought. He stepped closer to the wall and closed his eyes in preparation to turn himself intangible. He felt the tingle start at the tips of his fingers and travel up his body like little bugs crawling under his skin until he was completely covered and there was no longer a difference and the feeling was almost lost. D.L. opened his eyes to stare at brick.
He heard a loud crash come from somewhere around the corner along with a shout and footsteps pounding on concrete. He waited for the signal…
"Go." Emitted breathlessly from the walkie-talkie, and he stepped into the wall.
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Peter leaned casually against the wall and waited for D.L. to turn the corner and the cab to disappear before moving once again towards the large, gray, imposing doors of the hospital. What a fitting hideout for a serial killer. Peter thought. Sylar should just stay there.
Peter crept silently up to the small rectangular slits of windows on the doors and peered inside, looking for something to knock down with a little of Sylar's stolen telekinesis. The hall inside went straight from the door for a little ways before coming to a T. He saw a cobweb-covered stack of metal shelves lined up against the opposite wall from him and smirked.
"Peter?" The noise made his heart flutter and his body jerk suddenly. "Are you in position?" It was fine. It was just D.L. on the walkie-talkie. He fumbled for it in his jacket pocket and lifted it hastily to his lips.
"Affirmative. It's a go. Wait for the crash. Over." He spoke into it, feeling rather silly. He looked around once more for any passerby's, took a deep breath, and focused his mind on the shelf across from him.
He raised his hand and closed his eyes, jerking his fingers in a strange manner. Nothing happened. Shook hair out of his face, annoyed, before taking another deep, calming breath, and trying a different tactic.
As much as he didn't want to, Peter closed his eyes and focused on Sylar. He focused on Sylar tossing lockers at him with his mind at Claire's high school like they were balls of paper. And then, he felt it. He couldn't explain how it felt, just that it was there. It was like a part of him he never knew was missing had suddenly reappeared. He felt whole. He felt right.
Once again, Peter raised his hand to the shelves, and this time made a pulling motion. They immediately tumbled over with a spectacular crash. His moment of triumph was ruined, however, with the slam of a door from inside. His eyes widened.
"Shit!" He exclaimed and clumsily leapt over the shaky step railing and pounded down the sidewalk towards the alley. He almost smiled, the feelings he had now reminding him of childhood days playing ding-dong-ditch with the local boys. Almost forgetting the signal, he remembered and brought the walkie-talkie to his face just as he rounded the corner.
"Go." He breathed into it before crouching quickly behind the dumpster, his heart beating a mile a minute.
It had begun.
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Post AN's
1. Jesus's Parable of the 3 men:
I don't know the exact verses, so I'll give it in a nutshell. There are 3 servants who are given an equal amount of money by their master, the master goes away for a while, returns, and asks to see the money. One of the servants hid away the money and lost it, another hid it away and returns it all, and the last used the money given to make more money and returned all of the old and new money to the master. The master punishes the first two and rewards the third one.
Interpretations are up to the individuals, but I think this is all about the gifts we're given, our purpose in life, and how we use our gifts to serve our purpose. In this case, the parable reminds the Haitian that he was given a special gift and he must use it responsibly.
2. Chapter 8 Preview: The Bomb Part II
The rescue mission continues. What will happen when Peter meets Ted? Will our Heroes manage to overcome Sylar this time? Or will thousands die as Peter is unable to hold his own power in check? Click the little purple arrow to find out!