Fui Quod Sis



Also Featuring:


Scene Title Fui Quod Sis
Synopsis Peter puts the pieces of a puzzle together, and the picture is a mirror.
Date October 22, 2008

Primatech Research, Level-3: Laboratory C-2

"Jesus fuck this looks like a tray of fuckin' cherry cobbler not a person!" Agent Woods was never known for his tact or composure when confronted with a corpse, but this is even more so a situation that turns stomachs. One hand comes up to cover his mouth as he looks down at the remains of the first John Doe retrieved from Greenwich Village, "Christ Petrelli, what'd you do 'em?" From across the examination table, Peter Petrelli stands with his arms folded and head inclined, staring down at the deformed remains of the acid-slinging Evolved he had faced but two nights ago.

"Didn't you read the report?" His eyes upturn to the blonde man standing across from him, or more correctly his back. Agent Woods has turned away from the table to try and keep what little luch he's had on the inside. One hand waves flippantly over his shoulder, the other restrained by a sling against his chest.

"I ain't had fuckin' time to take a shit today, Petrelli. It's my first bloody day back on the job, man, cut me some slack." Woods trns around, motioning with wiggling fingers towards the table, "For Christ's sake Pete cover that mess up." Peter raises one brow, and the black rubber sheet covering the table rolls back over the body of its own accord. It's only then that Woods gives a mild sigh of relief.

"This isn't a bloody joke, what the hell happened to that guy? He looks like he tried to drink lava." Peter nods to Woods' assessment of the situation, crude as it is, and moves to the foot of the next table, being kind to his partner not to roll back the covering. "You're sayin' they just fuckin' dropped dead all on their onesies?"

"They were in pain." His hands come to rest on the stainless streel handles that can push the wheeled tables around, gripping tightly as he leans forward, sliding the body back into the cooled locker with a loud rattling sound. "I don't know what happened. Doctor Knutson is doing an analasys of the bodies to try and come up with an answer…"

"Oh, the bloody fairy princess?" One light brow raises as he waves towards the laboratory door, "I'm sure she'll be a right fine mix of this." Woods has always had an awkwardly bad feeling about Odessa, one that is coupled by her whimsical nature and the way the Company keeps her contained like a plague more so than a person.

"She does good work." Peter retorts, waving towards the other rolling tray to slide it into the opposite locker. Woods watches this display, breathing in deeply before sighing as the next locker slams shut.

"Look, Pete, I'm all smiles ear-to-ear that you decided to come back and work for us even after remembering you were the bloody Che Guevara of Evolved, but cut me some fuckin' slack here. This case isn't yours, you just happened to Superman your way out there in the nick of time, yeah? Let the brains handle this." Woods is rewarded with a somewhat icy glare from Agent Petrelli, who folds his arms across his chest and leans against the corpse lockers.

"And, what, focus on the other case I can't do anything about? Elle is still missing, Homeland Security isn't going to let Walker out of her birdcage, and the Company won't risk an inter-departmental fiasco to try and leverage use of her skills. We've got nothing to go on." Irratability rises, and Peter lowers his head, staring down at his feet, "I have to try and keep my mind occupied with something Woods, or… I feel like I'm just going to break apart at the seams."

There's some deflation to Woods' attitude there, "Look, Pete," He steps across the tile floor, coming to rest his good hand on the dour agent's shoulder, "One step at a time right? What about Sylar, he always gets y'blood pumpin, eh? Maybe we could go track him down and deliver a right-old curb stomping, would that put a smile on your mug?" He's got a way with words, Woods does.

"Sylar's all but impossible to find, I wouldn't know if he was standing right here in front of me." It's not way enough to ease Peter's mind though, "He can look like anybody," the words come out as a growled and reluctant admission, "He knows how to guard his thoughts enough to trick me into thinking he's someone else."

"Well, then at least there's some comfort in knowing you got that trick too, right?" Woods arches a brow, removing his hand and smiling crookedly. "Now that you've got your old bag of tricks back, right?" Peter blinks, twice, and looks over to Woods with a confused expression, eyes wandering from side to side just after he makes eye contact. There's silence, long, awkward silence.

"Pete," Woods leans his head in, "Don't tell me you didn't think of at least trying it out? Come on man that guy's like a bloody fuckin' shopping cart full of Evolved powers!"

"Woods," Peter's eyes widen, then a smile begins forming on his lips, "Woods you are a genius!" One hand comes u to slap him on his shoulder — admittedly his bad shoulder — and Peter recoils slightly as his partner grimaces in pain. He cracks a smile, waving his good hand freely in a dismissive gesture.

"Bah, ain't nothing. Company doesn't keep me 'round for my good looks, ri — " His words cut off as Peter vanishes into thin air with a sudden rush of air to fill in the gap in space where he was standing. The Agent purses his lips, brows lowering as he exhales a dramatic sigh, "Nice job Woods, glad to have you back Woods, I'm so happy you ain't dead Woods…" He mumbles to himself with a shake of his head, wandering out of the laboratory in disappointment.

Dorchester Towers: Lobby

Dorchester Towers is a huge white building surrounded by a carefully landscaped stretch of gardens. The spacious lobby almost has more window than wall, white and green marble floor tiles gleaming in the light; it is occupied by doormen and a concierge to assist renters and guests. Nine high-speed elevators provide convenient access to upper stories; every floor has its own laundry room. Closed-circuit TV monitors the lobby and grounds, and every apartment has a security system, double-bolt door locks, and even window locks. The complex has its own garage, a bicycle room, and a sun deck.

Late in the afternoon as it is, Dorchester Towers is a busy place for all concerned. The doorman smiles as a black sedan pulls up, opening the doors as a young man with a briefcase steps out, walking up the steps. "Good Afternoon Mister Mills," The doorman smiles and inclines his head, about to close the door again when someone is standing in his peripheral vision abruptly as he turns back around. The man gives a little jump, one hand resting over his chest, "O-Oh man, you gave me a heck of a startle!"

"You seem stressed today," One hand comes to rest up on the doorman's shoulders, and a dark brow raises slowly in that momentary pause, "Wayne, take it easy alright." Straightening the collar of his dark coat, the round-faced man makes his way into the lobby, and Wayne cracks a smile with a laugh, nodding back to him.

Once inside, the man pauses in mid-stride, hands patting down the pocket of his right side, then his left, followed by a strained noise in the back of his throat. He turns, walking towards the front desk where a young brunette sits, typing away at a computer. He meanders over, anxiously scanning the registry behind the desk, then shifts his attention down to the woman with a srcutinizing look for a moment. "Oh, hey ah, Mandy?" A nervous smile creeps across his lips, "Can you buzz me up at my apartment, I locked myself out."

The clerk turns from the computer, one brow raised as she spots the dark-haire dman waiting by the front desk. She cracks a broad smile and nods her head slowly, "That's not like you to be so forgetful," her head shakes, and she reaches over to a switchboard in front of herself, "I'll wait until I see you on the cameras by your apartment, okay?"

He nods, all smiles, "Thanks," Something echoes in the back of her mind, and he catches it, hesitating. "Hey ah — Has Kay been by here by any chance? I keep missing her, she wants me to come by and see Cole." Mandy wrinkles her nose and relaxes some, laughing and shaking her head.

"No, no she hasn't been by here since the other night." With a motion of her nose, Mandy indicates the way towards the elevators, "Go on, I've got work to do. Supervisor will kill me if I chit-chat too much." Hands resting on the countertop, the anxious man nods and gives her a warm smile.

"Thanks," It almost comes out exasperated, "I owe you." He backs off, relief crossing his face as one hand raises in a wave. But as he turns towards the elevators, she calls out to him with a cheerful tone of voice.

"Don't worry about it Mr.Parkman!"

October 22nd: Where the Wild Things Are

Previously in this storyline…
Bang, Not A Whimper

Next in this storyline…
Cherry Cobbler

October 22nd: Being Matt Parkman
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License