"Don't worry madam, I have you."
The old woman frowned. "You got me? Who gots you?"
The Silver Streak chuckled as he landed next to the hospital, setting the old woman down carefully on a gurney as several nurses rushed out. "Is there a doctor here?" he called out.
"Dr. Petrelli called in sick, but I can get Dr. Fray."
The Streak nodded. "Imagine that…" He muttered, before turning to the nurses. "Then I leave this young lady in your hands, gentlemen. Tend to that leg, I believe it is broken."
The nurse nodded. "Sure thing sir. And by the way…thanks for helping us."
"Sure thing, Bill." The Streak said, before blasting into the sky.
The other nurse turned to his companion. "How did he know your name?"
^&^&^&^
Darkness gave way to darkness of a different sort.
Claire moaned, running her palm over her face, forcing the white spots from her vision as she focused on where she was. At once she knew she wasn't in the hotel, where Doyle usually left her after she passed out, nor was she on the street, which was common when something spooked the drug peddler and forced him to abandon her.
Instead, she was laid out on a military cot, a thin blanket draped over her. Unlike most times when she got high, she hadn't fiddled with her clothing, the only misplaced garments being her heavy shoes and socks.
She sat up, only to fall back to the cot, her head pounding.
"Do not move." A gruff, raw voice commanded her. "You are still under the effects of the drug. Give it time."
Claire glanced over, starting when she saw the hooded man standing above her. "Who the hell…" She groaned, "are you?"
"Azrael." The figure said simply, moving away from her.
Claire could now see that they were in a small room, the only light coming from a tiny battery powered lantern that sat on the floor. No windows, she couldn't really make out a door…and a creepy guy hovering around her.
Yeah, Claire was freaked.
"Where's Doyle?"
"Dead."
The freaked meter went up another click.
"What happened to him?"
Azrael slowly turned to face her. "I happened."
The freak meter blew.
^&^&^&^
(Nevada State Prison)
"A few rules." The guard said as another officer ran a metal detector around Gabriel and Audrey. "We currently have systems in place to prevent Parkman from using his abilities. Do not get near the glass, do not touch it, and do not even think about entering the cell. You will remain 5 feet away at all times. You are to only ask questions or make fact based statements; you will not respond to any questions or comments he makes. And he will make comments. Do not fall for them, do not do anything stupid."
Gabriel nodded. "Am I good with the candy?" he held out his box of Jujyfruit.
"Ignore him, he's being an idiot Officer…"
"Hawkins." He gave them a slight smile. "But you can call me DL."
Audrey and Gabriel nodded. "Then lead the way, DL."
^&^&^&^
"Get away from me!"
Azrael tilted his head. "Why do cower, child? You stared Doyle in the eyes, yet I scare you?"
"Doyle served his purpose, he gave me something."
Azrael shook his head. "No, little girl, no he did not." Before she could protest, Azrael reached into one of the many costumes built in his suit and pulled out a stack of Polaroids, tossing them at her feet.
They each held the image of Doyle doing…horrible things…to many unconscious, innocent girls. Brutal things, monstrous things…things that made her soul scream in fury, only to curl up and sob the next.
And then she saw the images he'd taken of her.
Claire fell to her knees, her stomach rebelling and heaving up what little she had eaten for breakfast. She crumbled, fat tears pouring from her eyes as she realized just how she had been violated.
Azrael watched on as she cried.
^&^&^&^
"Hey!"
The Silver Streak looked down at the roof below, surprised to find a woman waving at him. He gave her a happily salute before continuing on his patrol. He only had an hour before he would be noticed gone, and the last thing he wanted was to be late…or to not finish his sweep.
"HEY!"
The Streak looked down, startled to find the same woman waving at him…considering he was a block away from her.
"Yeah, you, pajama boy. Come on down!" The woman called out.
Deciding to figure out what was going on, the Silver Streak landed, taking stock of the woman.
She was short, around 5 foot 5, give or take. Her hair was obviously dyed blood red, cut very short, an inch long at most and slicked back. She had a lean build, thin and almost delicate looking. He was surprised to find that she was wearing a variation of costume worn by Golden Age heroine Delphi: heavy duty boots, skin tight spandex pants, only these ones sported sown on bullet proof armor in key places, a sleeveless top, again with bulletproof armor sown into key places, long gloves and a domino-facemask covering her eyes. The only difference, other than the armor, to Delphi's costume was that while the silver age woman wore a white almost as bright as Streak's own uniform, this woman had gone with a red the same shade as her hair.
That, and she sported a pair of wicked looking guns on her hips.
"Hello, good lady…what may I do for you?" The Streak said, trying to sound noble.
"Cut the Knight of the Round Table shit, first off. Second, how about answering some questions."
"I will try, on both counts."
The woman nodded. "Good. First, who the hell do you think you are, working out without permission? This is Amazon country."
"Your turf?" The Streak asked, something clicking in place. "Are you a gangbanger?"
The woman laughed.
"Yeah, right." She said, narrowing her eyes, her tone quickly becoming sarcastic. "I guess you just got off the turnip truck, so let me spell it out, real simple." Suddenly, the woman was right behind him. "My name is Atalanta." She zipped to the far side of the building. "I run." She returned to her original spot. "Fast." She held out her arms. "Me and my sisters watch over this part of LA. We're the Amazons, the femme fatales, the killer chicks, you get the gist. The point is, we were here first."
The Streak held out a hand. "I'm sure we can work something out…"
"Oh, we can. We don't mind other heroes playing on our turf, so long as they follow the rules."
"What are the rules?"
Atalanta held out 4 fingers. "There are a lot, but I was told only to give you the basics. You agree to them, and we'll set up meetings to get you fully squared away." She began ticking off the rules. "Rule 1: You don't interfere with us. Unless we make it clear we want you near by, you see us fighting some criminals or just taking a stroll, you stay away. Only exception is if you see a gun at our heads, and even then, be damn sure we need help. We can handle ourselves fine…we aren't scared little girls. We'll do the same with you. Help is only given if asked."
The Silver Streak nodded. "Fair enough."
"Rule 2: You don't say a word about us, we don't say a word about you. You don't breath a word about the rules, about the girls, about even knowing our names to a soul unless we ok it. Again, same goes for you."
"Deal."
"Rule 3: If either side gets wind of something major that might effect the other, we share the intel."
The Streak shook his head. "That might break Rule 1."
"As I said, other sisters will get into more detail on contacting us through proper channels."
"Alright." The Streak held up 3 fingers. "What's number 4?"
Atalanta nodded. "Rule 4…you catch wind of a guy in all black with a hood, named Azrael…you get the hell away."
"I've read about him…he's murdering people…"
"I don't care if he's asking them out. The Queens, Artemis and Persephone, they've declared him off limits." She paused. "And FYI, and this stays between us because if you breath a word to anyone I will kill you, I've read about this guy…and he scares the shit out of me. I see him, I run…I'd do the same. That Doyle guy, we've wanted to take him out for months. Couldn't though…he could make us puppets…nearly raped one of my sisters. This Azrael, he made him bite off his own fingers. Whatever he can do, I don't want to mess with him."
"If I see him, I will not intervene…but if he attacks an innocent…"
"Your funeral." She saluted. "We'll get in contact later to give you more details on the rules…good luck to ya, pajama boy."
And with that, Atalanta was gone.
^&^&^&^
(Los Angeles)
"Thank you for coming."
Daniel Linderman nodded. "I'm sorry we are meeting under such sorry events, Arthur." He looked about Arthur's den, before settling himself in a chair. Before him, Angela and Arthur sat on a small couch, a stack of folders placed on the table beside them. "Where are the others?"
"Merrick's son is in the hospital, so he will not be around until he is better. Vic said that he really doesn't care what happens to men like Murray. A few others wanted to come when they could, but have other matters to attend to."
Arthur shook his head. "I thought we had this under control."
"We were foolish to think that, Arthur." Daniel sucked on his teeth. "This is a genie that isn't quite so easy to place back into the bottle. I am surprised we managed to go so long without an attack."
Frowning, Arthur looked down at the casket that held Murray Parkman's body. They had done their best to make him look peaceful, but to the people that knew him, they could see where the monster that had forced the man once known as MasterMind to slice himself up.
"Things are spiraling out of control. It was normal for renegade heroes to pop up, we expected it, but we've always managed to pay them off or head them off at the pass and bring them to our side like Gabriel. And the supervillians, thank God, seemed to have died with Adam. Now, we have this guy, Azrael, hunting one of our own down."
"More than that." Daniel stated, holding out a paper, showing Doyle's broken body. "Strings."
Arthur groaned. Strings had been a hero in training, a sidekick of sorts, when the Company had disbanded. He had taken it hard, cut off all ties to them. Now he was dead, tortured just like Murray, his secret past (which made Arthur sick to think about in connection to the quiet, creative young man he had once known) revealed save for his time as a cape.
"This…this is the last thing we need." He rubbed his eyes. "A new supervillain on top of us not only have all sorts of heroes pop up, but actually forming their own team?!?"
Daniel nodded. "And do not forget the Silver Streak." He smiled slightly. "Have you chatted with Nathan yet?"
Arthur shook his head. "We all know it isn't Nathan. He's embarrassed enough to know I use to wear spandex. The only time he'd done a suit is for Halloween. No, we both know who the Streak is."
"Peter." Daniel said. "Though, I thought Peter didn't have powers."
"He has powers, he just never revealed them. I think he might be a flier, like Nathan, or something similar." Arthur sighed. "Maybe I should take them from him."
"And if he isn't the Streak?" Daniel asked. "Remember Arthur, there are plenty of fliers in the world. Just last week you paid off that West boy in St. Louis."
Arthur nodded. "Then lets hope it isn't my kid out there…because God help him if I find out."
^&^&^&^
"Why?"
Claire rubbed her face, wiping the tears away.
"Why did you go to him?" Azrael asked. "Why did you allow yourself to be put in that situation in the first place?"
Claire narrowed her eyes, her sobs forgotten. "You're asking me about that…after what you showed me?" The rage she felt at Doyle turned towards Azrael, an easy target and the only one available. "How dare you! You…you kidnap me, you hold me here against my will, you MURDER someone, and you question me? You question why I do the things I do?"
Azrael remained calm. "I think the actions of Doyle justify me wondering why."
"You have no right. You have no right to judge me. You have no idea what I have gone through, what I have suffered. My family doesn't understand, they all pretend like it didn't happen. But every night I see my brother dying before my eyes! I watch the flames steal him from me, and the only way I can numb the guilt and the pain is the drug myself…it's the only way for me to not feel…" She closed her eyes, tears once more forming as she ranted. "All I want to do is die…all I want to do is see him again. But I can't…I can't."
"Why not?" Azrael said simply, startling her. "Why not just end it? If you want to die, why punish yourself…why degrade yourself like you are?"
Claire began to laugh, near hysterics. "Because I deserve to be punished! I deserve to suffer! Its my penance!"
"For what?" Azrael demanded.
Claire lowered her head. "Don't you get it?" She held up her hand, and to Azrael's surprise, her palm erupted in flames. "I'm the one that started that fire…I'm the reason he died."
^&^&^&^
This was a wing few people knew about.
Set away from the general prison populace, this was where those with special abilities were hidden away, locked up and kept contained. This wing was designed to prevent those that could easily escape a normal cell and bars from ever leaving, forcing them to stay put and serve out their long…long sentence.
Once teeming with supervillians, only a few remained at this point, and none of them could be considered true "villains". None had worn a costume or fought heroes. No, all here used their powers for, in the eyes of the superhuman community, petty crimes.
Before Detectives Gray and Hanson, pacing in a glass and stone cell, was Matt "The Bull" Parkman. A mobster wannabe, Parkman had used his abilities at first to perform cunning robberies and blackmails. By focusing on someone, he could get them to empty their wallets or tell him every dirty secret they had.
The problem was, Matt was…stupid.
So, he ended up using his subtle, creative power…like a jackhammer.
The final straw had been when he had gone to ritzy store, tried to convince the owner to hand over protection money, and ended up throwing the guy around.
Like a bull in a chinashop.
Parkman was a big man, tall and broad and wide. His hair was black and slicked back, his face round and almost babyish, and he wore an ever present smile. He might have been likable in another world, but here, Matt Parkman was a cruel, brutal criminal.
"Leave us." Audrey said to DL, the guard nodded.
"Oh, what do we have here?" Matt asked, looking Audrey up and down. "I should have figured when they put me in the Silence of the Lamps cage they would be getting me a pretty little FBI agent to talk too." He chuckled. "Sorry, I can't do southern accents."
"I'm not an FBI agent, which is good, considering you are the last person…"
"Audrey, stop." Gabriel said, forcing her hand open and dumping some of his candy into it. "Eat that." He turned to Matt. "We aren't here to pick your brain, Matt. We are here to deliver some news."
"And what's that?" Matt's face lit up. "Did I win the lotto?!"
Audrey rolled your eyes. "Can we just tell him his dad is dead and be done with it?"
"My dad's dead?"
Gabriel sighed. "Nice going." He turned to Matt. "Yes, your father was killed."
Matt considered this. "Bookie or jealous girlfriend?" He paused. "Wait, tell me if I'm getting any of his stuff.
"You're not getting out of here in 30 years, and you want to know what you are getting?" Audrey asked.
Matt shrugged. "The man was useless…no problem if he's dead."
"No honor among thieves?" Audrey asked.
"Oh, I can be quite honorable." Matt leered.
Gabriel held out a hand. "Mr. Parkman, your father was found murdered yesterday…it appears that someone used a special ability to make him torture himself. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone that would want to kill him?"
Matt nodded. "Oh yeah…lets see, there is Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck…you are writing these down, right?"
Audrey grit her teeth. "Listen, this guy, Azrael, he made your dad cut out his eyes and flay himself…he isn't someone to joke about. We need to find him, before he strikes again."
Matt rolled his eyes, still smiling. "Why should I care? I'm safe and sound here, and I don't get a damn thing if I help you." He shook his head. "No…I want something for my information."
Audrey glowered. "And that would be?"
"Maybe for you to stop frowning and unbutton that shirt a little…let daddy see those tat-tats."
Audrey took a step forward. "Listen here, Park…"
Audrey froze, her body going stiff. Matt tilted his head, blood trickling from both his and Audrey's nose.
"I might not escape, bitch…" Matt snarled, forcing his way past the shields used to block his powers. "…but I can still play with you…make you see me every night, thrusting into you, not a damn thing…"
Matt found himself thrown across his cell.
Gabriel flicked his wrist, slamming Matt into a wall. "Let her go, Parkman…now." He lowered his hand, slowly clenching his fist. "Or little Matt dies."
Matt clutched his crotch, groaning. "Fine!" Audrey stumbled back, weakened but otherwise unhurt. "You're no fun!" He laughed.
Gabriel gathered Audrey in his arms and hurried her out.
^&^&^&^
"You…started the fire?"
Claire nodded weakly.
"And…because of that…you punish yourself?"
Claire nodded again.
SLAP!
The teen blinked, fingers slowly raising to the check Azrael had backhanded. She looked towards…where Azrael's face should be, trying to reason out what had just happened.
"You stupid child." Azrael snarled, his voice raw and throaty. "You don't right your sins through punishment. You don't right them by making yourself miserable. And you certainly don't make them right through drugs!" Claire took a step back, certain he would strike her again. But instead, Azrael regarded her coldly. "That's the easy path, the lazy path. And worst of all, you do it in your brother's name. Do you think Carter would want you to do this? To punish yourself? You take his fate and use it as an excuse to get high and to lock yourself away. You do him not honor…no justice.
"You want to make up for your sins? You want to make things right? You don't go about it through torture and derogation. You do it through hard work, through selfless sacrifice. You work to ensure that no others make the same mistakes you do, feel the same pain you feel now, and only that way will the pain stop, and your sins be forgiven."
In a sweeping movement, Azrael reached over and threw open the large door, revealing to Claire that they entire room was really a shipping container out in an abandoned lot. Brushing past her, Azrael approached a motorcycle he'd hidden behind some crates and hoped on it, turning to stare at her as she stood dumbly in the container.
"You want to make things right?" he tossed her a business card, an address scribbled on the back. "Go there…tell them I sent you."
Claire took several step forward as Azrael revved the bike. "How did you know his name?" Azrael paused. "How did you know my brother's name was Carter?"
Azrael regarded her for a moment, before driving off into the night.
^&^&^&^
Next Time: Suresh reveals his dark side, Claire thinks about Azrael and his comments, Hiro plans his next big move, and Matt Parkman has another visitor.