peter_icon.gif eve_icon.gif

Scene Title Feint
Synopsis Eve uses her gift to arrange for a meeting with Peter Petrelli, and discovers the truth about his powers first-hand.
Date September 2, 2008

Ruins of Midtown

Standing in the ruins of Midtown, it's hard to believe New York is still a living city.

There's life enough around the fringes — the stubborn, who refused to rebuild somewhere else; the hopeful, who believe the radiation is gone, or that they somehow won't be affected. Businesses, apartment complexes, taxis and bicycles and subways going to and fro — life goes on. Perhaps more quietly than in other parts of the city, shadowed by the reminder that even a city can die, but it does go on.

Then there is the waste. The empty core for which the living city is only a distant memory. Though a few major thoroughfares wind through the ruins, arteries linking the surviving halves, and the forms of some truly desperate souls can occasionally be glimpsed skulking in the shadows, the loudest noise here is of the wind whistling through the mangled remnants of buildings. Twisted cords of rebar reach out from shattered concrete; piles of masonry and warped metal huddle on the ground, broken and forlorn. Short stretches of road peek out from under rubble and dust only to disappear again shortly afterwards, dotted with the mangled and contorted forms of rusting cars, their windows long since shattered into glittering dust.

There are no bodies — not even pieces, not anymore. Just the bits and pieces of destroyed lives: ragged streamers fluttering from the handlebar which juts out of a pile of debris; a flowerbox turned on its side, coated by brick dust, dry sticks still clinging to the packed dirt inside; a lawn chair, its aluminum frame twisted but still recognizable, leaning against a flight of stairs climbing to nowhere.

At the center of this broken wasteland lies nothing at all. A hollow scooped out of the earth, just over half a mile across, coated in a thick layer of dust and ash. Nothing lives here. Not a bird; not a plant. Nothing stands here. Not one concrete block atop another. There is only a scar in the earth, cauterized by atomic fire.

This is Death's ground.

As night began to fall, Eve is making her way back to HQ of PARIAH, having to talk to Cameron. But she had to take the route that led through the ruins of Midtown. Wearing a dark red dress with matching dark red leather boots, her long dark hair is pulled out of her face. Eve's face is set in a searching expression and she looks around a little before spotting the people she was looking for.

They are a gang of guys who are just sitting around in the ruins and they think that they are 'cool' and tough. Eve has her reasons for needing them and as she approaches them her already light colored eyes turn a milk white color and she tilts her head as she walks nearer to the group of men. Her movements are?. Strange. "Here..here boys. Come and play with me" she says in a singsong voice and she moves her hands in a elaborate movement. At first the men were smirking and thinking that they were just going to mug the woman but nope, she has other plans in mind.

The nearest, the leader walks up to Eve and looks at her eyes. "Hey boys! We got a weird one over here! Check it out!" The other men come rushing over. Are they stupid? You /RUN/ when you see a woman with white eyes! Run!!

It had been a long and frustrating day for Peter Petrelli, fuitless in the search for Nathan and only compounded by his inability to make sense of the chaotic situation in the city he had returned to find. Midtown was a portion of the city that was like a gangrenous infection, it didn't know it was already dead, and the rest of New York simply hadn't rejected it yet. Every time he stood atop the Devereaux rooftop and looked out over the skyline, he could see that rot in the crater where New York's heart once was. It was from this overlook that he would spend much of his time, thinking, planning, mourning.

The scene beginning to play out on the streets thirty stories below the rooftop hadn't quite gotten Peter's attention yet. He was watching people come and go from the cracked and broken roads, watching cabs and other cars rumbling along the ruined shell of a once propserous place, but the sense of danger and urgency that was being written for him to see had not yet played out. But he was observing, now, and that was exactly what had been counted on.

Laughing, "Weird one" Eve tilts her head and looks up to the sky for a brief moment and then after she looks back down. One of the men grabs Eve by the shoulders and holds her stiff; she doesn't struggle much as the leader comes up and runs a hand over Eve's face. "Where'd you get those eyes chicka? They are so pretty" The gang laughs at the leader's sarcastic tone.

"Pretty are they? Oh well these eyes aren't just pretty. They show me things, important things" Eve smirks for a moment and then shakes her head, "Like the bullet that is going in your foot" With that a flurry of motion is seen. Eve yanks free of the man holding her and kicks him in the groin, the man doubles over as Eve then draws her gun from her thigh holster and holds it down at the leader of the gang's foot. She presses it hard and grins up at the other men, "Are you scared yet little boys?" she taunts them. Even though she sees the future, they are only possible futures, so she hopes the man she is hoping to meet comes soon, or well. Things might not go as planned. The other gang members crowd around, they are /all/ drawing weapons. Six against the seer. Five, counting the man on the ground. What shall she do?

He had looked away, Peter had turned his eyes up towards the jagged and broken skyline in front of him. His arms came to rest on the edge of the roof, peering out over the desolation beyond where people refused to inhabit, the risk of radiation sickness was simply too great for most. But that sound, the telltale pop of a hangun snapped Peter out of his thirty-yard-stare. He looks down, over the egde of the rooftop, uncertain if that was gunfire, or just a car backfiring. But there it was, one person surrounded by six that were closing in. Even if he didn't know the particulars, even if he wasn't sure about the situation, six-on-one was enough to make Peter act before he thought. It was what he was good at.

With a hop, Peter vaults over the edge of the roof, plummeting down from the thirtieth floor of the Devereaux building, and the distance of the fall gives him time to think, time to consider. Here in the ruins of Midtown, his options weren't nearly as limited as they were elsewheres in the city — minimal police presence, higher Evolved to Un-Evolved ratio, he has less need to hold back. In a flash of black, Peter opts to test out one of his new abilities, to acclimate himself to the sense of wild freedom and passion that the young Helena brought to mind, and with his hands out to his side and palms facing the ground, Peter concentrates on that feeling, the unbridled sense of energy and the free-spirit of that girl, and he makes thought into action.

The ground erupts with a maelstrom of wind, even as the skies overhead began to swirl with an unintentional cover of mottled black clouds that were trimmed with haunting shades of purple, orange and red from the setting sun. The wind picks up to a violent gust, sending untended debris up into the air and swirling around along with stone-dust from the damaged buildings. In that flash of black clothing he lands with just enough timing to position himself between Eve and one of the attackers, a young but well-built man wearing a dark-colored hoodie. Through the dust storm he raises his gun, firing blindly towards Peter. Two of the bullets go wide, striking the facade of the Devereaux building and adding to its worn charm; one struck home, slamming into Peter's shoulder and abruptly ending the windstorm that he had called. Peter, though, works through the pain. It reminds him of Claire, it reminds him of that expression she had the last time he saw her, and as the bullet works its way back out of his shoulder and falls to the ground, the scarred man in black looks around at the thugs, raising one hand, fingers spread apart. He gave to them one option —


Eve chuckles as the men run away, one hobbling and the other is getting carried. She waits as they run away and when they are out of sight, she stands and dusts herself off and hand combs her hair. "I would have to say that you met Helena" her eyes have returned to their natural eye color and she tilts her head at him and then puts her hands on her hips as she holsters her gun. "I was wondering when you would show, thanks" she says and then studies Peter for a moment.

They ran — he wasn't used to that — Belligerance often accompanies violence, it was a nice change. "Wait — " Peter turned and looked over his shoulder, brushing aside the bullet that had been forced out of his skin with his boot as he changed his stance, "I know you." His eyes narrow as he takes a step back, head tilting to the side as he assessingly takes in the strange presence of the dark-haired woman. "You're the one from the sewers," He was starting to piece it all together, "The one…" Peter looks back towards where the thugs were running, then to the brunette again, "You set me up." She's clever, cunning, and it had caught Peter off guard.

"You are a smart one," she says with a grin. "But I didn't quite know it was you when we first met. I didn't expect to find someone else that sees the future and paints it, also. But that is if you do paint the future?" she says and cants her head, "My name is Eve, by the way. I didn't know how to find you until I had a vision of you helping me if I got into some trouble down here. So there we go"

Peter winces, visibly, "You can…" He cuts himself off, shaking his head, "Yeah, yeah. I can, it's not my gift though — well, it wasn't originally. Someone I knew, he had it. He's gone now, though, so I guess it is mine…" Thoughts of Isaac drift through Peter's mind, and it was the first time he actually considered the remifications of his powers. Even if someone died, if they were gifted, and Peter had taken their powers, they would live on inside of him. That thought serves as a momentary distraction, but as he clears his head, his eyes turn back to the mysterious woman with a suspicious glare. "Why?" He takes a step forward, getting closer to her, looking down with frustration; he didn't like being played. "What do you want from me?"

"Simple. Answers, you were /obviously/ very peeved that we discovered your hiding place. What were those paintings on the wall?" she asks and continues to study Peter, not scared at all. Eve shakes her head, "I want to help. You looked like you needed help before" she says and tilts her head, a few strands of her hair falls into her face.

"I was pissed because you found where I was laying-low, and I had to abandon that place." Peter cants his head to the side, "I'm a private person." His eyes narrow for a moment as he listens to the woman's further explanation, and immediuately he shakes his head with a strained sigh, taking a few steps away from her. "I don't know what they are, I just paint them. Maybe the clouds and the lightning was about the girl I met yesterday, maybe they're about something that hasn't happened yet. I don't know, that's not how it works. It just happens." Peter runs one hand over the top of his head, smoothing back his hair. "And I'll tell you again, I don't need anyone's help… But after having met your buddies, I'm pretty sure trying to talk sense into you will go about as well as it did with them." A frown crosses Peter's face as he looks back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Oh, well sorry if I'm rude but you need help if, you can't decipher the future that you paint. That seems pretty important to me" she says and then cracks a small smile. "I can't say I'm not intrigued by you either. More than one ability? Very rare" Eve says and looks up at the sky for a moment.

Peter eyes Eve cautiously, taking a few steps away, "The only one, now," He looked over to the ruined city, then back again, "Like I said before, I don't need your help." Peter looked up at the dissipating storm clouds in the skies, mottled with fiery shades of the setting sun, "And you're better off just not getting involved." With that, Peter vanished from sight in a ripple of air.

"Trust me, everyone is better off that way."

Eve didn't hear his voice any longer, but by their chance meeting the damage had already been done. And this time, Peter wasn't aware of the power he had inadvertantly picked up by being so close to Eve.

Not yet, anyway.

"…and now here's Allen Blake, with the weather!"

"Thanks Sarah! It's going to be another hazy, hot and humid day tomorrow, so remember to pack your sunscreen and avoid peak exposure hours if you're ging to be outdoors. A balmy eighty-six degrees for a high tomorrow, with a humidity index through the roof, but the hilights of tonight's weather is most definately that highly unexpected micro-burst that we had down in Midtown! It only lasted for a few minutes, but just like last night's brief thunderstorm and that torrential rain, it makes it look like New York is in for some seriously out of this world weather patterns for the next few days!"

"The appearance of those brief storms has pushed the emerging high-pressure air front back from Buffalo and out towards the great lakes, stirring up some seriously unfortunate wind and hail for the folks in the midwest. It looks like we're in for a doozy of a Hurricane season this year! Now, here's our seven day forecast…

September 2nd: We Don't Know Them
September 2nd: Philosophy and Popsicles
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