En Prise

Participants:

mohinder_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif sylar_icon.gif

Scene Title En Prise
Synopsis Sylar and Odessa make their move to secure Mohinder for their charade of Phase Three.
Date January 2, 2009

New York City


From a bird's eye view, New York City, in its least scarred areas, spans out across the land much like one could observe a game board. Squares of city buildings, winding roads, it's a complex game but a game nonetheless.

Today, there are several pieces on the board.

One takes the shape of a hawk, riding air thermals and wings spread, circling and lending visions to yet another piece, a man dressed darkly who paces and murmurs instructions into his cellphone, expression glazed and voice faint, but audible. Call this one the King piece, he doesn't move very far and yet he is one of great importance to today's game. Another piece, a blonde woman whom we can call the Queen in that she is most mobile and most deadly, will respond to instructions through her own phone, and move in on the last. The Pawn, unknowing, is only out to order coffee. But there are always greater plans for pieces of this kind.

The hawk continues to circle, and watches.

Mohinder might be a lowly pawn, but he's on a mission:

Double Mochiatto, no whipped cream, extra espresso shot with a blueberry lemon poppyseed muffin.

That's right, players. Breakfast is on.

Mohinder is at The Coffee Bean, enjoying some breakfast decadence during his breief respite from work as the new years holiday draws to a close. He'll be back to work soon, and while his mind is always on that, part of it is also focused on a very specific person and if he should call that person today. He waits in line, dressed casually but tastefully, trying to figure out what he's going to do with the rest of this fine wintery day in New York.

<Cue the New Age Music and the Eerie Vocals>

Unfortunately, the wheel of karma has begun to turn once again, and that decision has already been made for the unwitting scientist. Sometimes, all those brains can't buy you a lick of smarts.

The Queen, neither black nor white, but gray as her King, murmurs something into her cellphone, the grin evident on her voice until she flips the device shut and tucks it into the pocket of her high-necked wool coat. She reaches up and gingerly touches the fabric around her throat, feeling naked without the familiar choker hanging there. With a deep breath, the mirth is gone and Odessa pulls open the door to the Coffee Bean, moving toward the line up for the register when she spots the Pawn.

"Doctor Suresh!" she gasps, eyes appropriately wide with disbelief at what is - for all intents and purposes - her stroke of luck. She approaches the geneticist quickly, looking urgent now and a bit frightened. "Please don't freak out," she begs. After all, she is a fugitive of the Company. There are men out there looking for her. She stabbed the Haitian, if the reports are true. But for all of that, her look and her tone are sincere when she leans forward and pleads.

"Help me."

Mohinder looks around, eyes wide, making sure no one obviously Company-like sees him. He leans in with a whisper, "Dr. Knut..Odessa, what is happening? I've heard all manner of rumor concerning you, but I refuse to believe them until I managed to make contact with you. I'd almost given up hope." heroically (some can absorb powers, others travel through time, some give up their space in line) steps out of the queue and takes Odessa by the elbow and leads her towards a less populated area of the coffee shop. Fortunately, it's that blurry place between early and mid-morning and thus not all that hard to do. "What's going on?" he asks, urgently, in a whisper that's still tinged with his buttery accent.

"I only meant to sneak out for a couple of hours. I just wanted to get some air," comes the explanation spilling out from Odessa's mouth, frantic and strained from the effort it takes her not to cry. "But then there was that awful man. He said he knew where to find Adam. So I went with him! I didn't know what he was." Now the tears flow readily from Odessa's eyes. "Oh, Doctor Suresh. You have to help me. He's done such terrible things."

Mohinder listens intently, and nods. "Of course I'll help you. What has he done? What do you need me to do?" Mohinder is now fired up, and a fired up Mohinder is an intent Mohinder. He takes a deep breath. His eyes narrow. "He hasn't..harmed..you, has he? If he has.." though he's not sure exactly who 'he' is yet. Or if he does, he doesn't realize it.

Odessa glances about quickly before opening up the topmost button of her coat, then the second, pulling the wool fabric back so that he might glance at the ugly scarring across her pale skin where her throat was slashed and subsequently cauterised. "If I try and run, he'll find me." She trembles and presses her lips together, rubbing beneath her nose with the back of her hand before it can drip in an unseemly manner. The tears are genuine. "Please. You have to come with me. It's not safe to talk here. He knows where I am. I don't want to lead him to you."

Mohinder nods, "Dear gods..who did this to you?" he asks, fearing he might already know the answer, but nods at her request. "Of course I'll come with you, Odessa." he pauses, "Where is it we're going?"

"Just outside," Odessa says softly. "A few blocks from here. Close enough that if he finds me, I can claim I was lost, but far enough that I might not be found." She ignores the question of who's responsible for the way her throat's been marred. The answer is complicated. Instead, she just does up her buttons once more and hurries for the door, assuming Mohinder will follow.

Mohinder does follow, hoping he'll have an answer to his question soon as well as answers to many other questions that have been on his mind about her since his return to the States. "I'm right behind you." he says, comfortingly, making his way towards the door just steps behind her.

Once outside, Odessa takes a few deep breaths as she leads him down the street, regaining her composure as they get further away from where she's expected to be. Her terribly impractical heels, a dark purple shade, click at an increasing pace on the concrete sidewalk, echoing her growing panic. Finally, she turns sharply to lead the other doctor down an alleyway designed as a back access for delivery to the businesses on either side. Once shaded by the looming buildings, she turns and fixes Mohinder with an apologetic look. "I swear this isn't what I intended. I just wanted some freedom. All these things that I've done…" She shakes her head, blonde hair strewn about her face where it refuses to release its hold on the riverbeds of tears across her skin.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mohinder will feel it like a hand buried into his torso, a giant hand clenching around his ribcage, and it pulls him towards the wall just a few feet away, force enough to bruise but not break. Held there, the doctor will only be able to watch as Odessa is telekinetically shoved in much the same way. Arms outstretched towards both captives, Sylar walks casually into the alley, eyes currently fixed primarily on the geneticist. A black coat, buttoned together, hides most of what he's wearing, and a dusting of bruises cover one half of his face, but he seems alert. Healthy. Predatory.

"Morning, Mohinder," Sylar greets, mouth curling up in a smile. He turns to Odessa, head tilted. "Good work, Doctor Knutson."

Mohinder eyes widen not in fear, but anger. Okay, maybe fear, too. "You." is all he says, but the way he says it, it might as well be a four letter word uttered with venom from his lips.

Odessa squeals as she's flung into the wall, fresh tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her gaze, wide and terrified, fixes on Mohinder. It begs for forgiveness. When Sylar addresses her, she shrinks back, hatred and fear held in her expression in equal parts. "Let me go, you son of a bitch." If Mohinder won't curse, then she will.

Mohinder's surprised alright. What Odessa has said, and the arrival of Sylar aren't linked until seconds later when the abruptness of everything has finished washing over him. It's then that the familiar feeling of being shoved around and pinned telekinetically reaches him. The anger and the fear still fresh within him, he looks to Sylar. "Let her go, Sylar. You've got what you come for. You have me." he says, looking to Odessa. The look he gives her is one she might understand: Forgiveness.

"I do have you," Sylar says, hands still spread, telekinetic pin still in place. "But I need you both - and I'm so glad you're both friends. It will make everything much easier." Odessa goes ignored, it seems, held to the wall as he moves further into the alley, eyes locked on Mohinder's face. "You see, things have changed," he says, in an almost amicable tone. As if they were two friends enjoying a reunion. "Since you last knew me, that is. I have friends too." The keyword in that statement is accompanied with a wolfish smile. Suddenly, the telekinetic hold is released, but Sylar is swift to step in front of Mohinder - rather boldly turning his back to Odessa. "So we're going to go on a little ride so you can meet them, and you're not gonna try to run away or anything so stupid, right?" His hand drips into the pocket of his coat, extracting his cellphone one of those disposable types.

Mohinder's eyes narrow, and he is far from thrilled at this "reunion". "You don't have friends, Sylar. You have tools. My father tried to be your friend, but he was merely the first that you showed your true nature too. These people you've collected will also learn the truth — you're just a parasite."

Odessa collapses on the ground, unprepared to have her feet under her to catch her once the hold is released. Slowly, though, once Sylar has given her his back - after all, she's just a girl, so, what's she going to do to him? - she stands. And once he's mentioned taking Mohinder to meet his "friends," Doctor Knutson will have no more of it. With a furious shout, she's rushing at the psychopathic killer with the intent to tackle him to the ground.

Sylar's gaze on Mohinder grows steely at the mention of Chandra - perhaps it adds to this facade, perhaps it takes away from it, but for intents and purposes, it's rather genuine. But he has no time to protest, none at all, when Odessa cries out and rushes him, easily Hearing her feet scraping against the ground. He whirls around, allowing her to barrel into him and using that momentum to shove her against the wall. He falls with her, using not telekinesis but an arm against her scarred throat to keep her in place. "I told you to behave," he hisses.

The two go tumbling back, the woman in a desperate flail of limbs until she's back to where she started. Odessa tries to scream. Really, she does. But it's so difficult with an arm cutting off her air supply. Her lips twist into a sneer, eyes ablaze with emotion. The corners of her mouth twitch. It's a dangerous game they're both playing, but they're both playing it to win.

Mohinder returns the gaze with his own, defiant stare. He might be scared, he might be angry, but he's done this dance with Sylar before. In this, he at least has somewhat of an advantage. He knows Sylar won't kill him for a few reasons.

Then he falls to the ground.

He sees Sylar pinning Odessa against the wall with his hand. Balling up his hands into fists, he knows it's now or never. He runs towards Sylar, hands clasped together, and strikes at his side with a double axe-handle strike hoping to hit the villain's kidney.

Brave moves, on both their parts. Sylar's grip on Odessa is easily loosened as he stumbles from the blow, and he's not slow to lash right back. Only this time, he doesn't use his hands, not even telekinesis. Like ice shooting through Mohinder's veins, paralysis takes hold, freezing the man in place. "I told you not to do something stupid," Sylar says, now finally taking that phone out, flipping it open and pressing a button. It's pocketed once more. "Mohinder, your father used people too."

A van, because it's always a van, pulls up at the mouth of the alley. The side door slides open with a metallic grind. "Get in," Sylar snaps at Odessa, before looking back at the paralysed geneticist. The killer starts to move backwards, towards the van, and in perfect sync, Mohinder is forced to walk forwards as well. "It's human nature, Suresh. You'll get used to it eventually, or you'll just end up like your daddy."

Odessa gives Mohinder a sympathetic look before she turns on her heels and hurries off to climb into the van like a good little girl. With her back to the men, she bows her head…

Mohinder can only shift his eyes towards Odessa, if that. He is merely a puppet at this point, moving with Sylar with no choice in the matter. Through a clenched jaw, his blood boiling now, "You know nothing of my father," he says, slowly. "And this..scheme..of yours. Like you…will..fail."

…And in the dark of the vehicle, Odessa smiles.

"I really… really… disagree," Sylar says, emphasis coming out in more of a growl. He only stops by the van and gestures, watching with blatant amusement as Mohinder is forced to step into his trap. Sylar's hand curls around the van door, pausing to look up at the sky before sliding into the vehicle himself. As the door is slid shut, it pulls out from the alley, anonymous in the traffic.

The hawk, once perched on the rooftop overlooking the alley way, spreads its strong wings and with a cry, it launches itself up into the eternal blue.

Checkmate.


l-arrow.png
January 1st: The Stages
Previously in this storyline…
The Man in the Box

Next in this storyline…
So We Fight

r-arrow.png
January 2nd: So We Fight
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License