Going On Instinct


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Scene Title Going on Instinct
Synopsis After escaping the DoEA, Ando and Hiro stop to discuss a plan of action… but something in the Ruins of Midtown is listening.
Date November 8, 2011

Ruins of Midtown

A distant cry of sirens fills the air. Down on the street level of Midtown's ruins, Hiro Nakamura feels like an alley cat chased by a feral dog. With one hand wound into the scruff of Ando's jacket, Hiro storms down the alley, the other hand gripping his sword tightly. It's been several minutes since the pair escaped the DoEA and Parkman, and Ando refuses to shut up. Hiro stops, slams Ando up against a wall and looks him dead in the eyes. Ando tenses, back straight, but when he looks at Hiro like he doesn't recognize him, Hiro relents and takes a step away. After a few moments, Hiro just wanders away entirely, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead.

"Damnit," Hiro hisses under his breath, pacing back and forth. Ando tenses up again, but eases off the wall, trying to reach out — metaphorically — to his friend. Hiro notices him moving, gives him a warning look, and then sheathes his sword on his back. "We can't stay down here on street level long. They'll be deploying drones and robots soon enough, and I can't fight them and baby-sit you." Ando's eyes widen, a look of confusion and disbelief dances across his face.

"R— Robots?" Both brows raise incredulously high, and as he starts to smile it's almost as though he thinks Hiro is playing a game with him. Hiro, however, finds no amusement in the situation. He slams Ando back against the crumbling brick wall again.

"This isn't a game," Hiro snarls, and relents once more seeing the fear in Ando's eyes. "You— you have no idea what is going on here, and I don't— I don't have time to explain it to you." Hiro rubs one hand across his face. "I don't even have time to explain, why I don't have time to explain." It's with a ragged sigh that Hiro starts circling again. Ando straightens his stolen Casino guard uniform, looking down to the ground for a moment in silence. Now, it's clear, the length and breadth of what his friend has been suffering through.

"Hey!" Ando finally shouts, and the noise gets Hiro's eyes snapping back to him with fury. "What's going on?" There's desperation there, a plea for Hiro to explain anything, even if he doesn't have time to.

Hiro, however, has other thoughts. "Get out of those clothes," he motions to the Casino security guard uniform. "You're sticking out like a sore thumb." Future Hiro paces around, eyes scanning the alley as if this cramped, brick space would offer something insightful.

"What happened to Hiro? Who was that?" Ando's question elicits a look of continued frustration from Hiro.

"Homeland Security," is a gross oversimplification, but Hiro can't spend time explaining what the Department of Evolved Affairs is, when it was formed, what they do. At even the slightest bit of an answer, Ando starts unbuttoning the stolen uniform, still wearing his normal street clothes beneath. In a way, he's relieved to be out of them. Wearing too many layers like that is dreadfully uncomfortable, especially with all the running.

"So," Ando's brows furrow. "The government?" America is confusing.

Hiro, however, tries a different tack. He doesn't explain, but talks forward, explaining what they'll need to do. Actions, rather than a history lesson. "They're taking him to a special holding facility in midtown." Tugging off the uniform's slacks, Ando seems a bit incredulous.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because that's where they take all the terrorists," is another lie, but one that Ando won't ever know the truth to. In reality, there's a thousand places they could take the younger Hiro. But trying to explain to Ando about the Institute, about places like Eltingville, would again take too long. It's easier to lead him by the nose, get him to follow a plan.

"Why would anyone think that Hiro's a — " Ando's aborted sentence has Hiro closing his eyes. He used to T-Word without thinking about how it would be taken by someone in the past, before terrorism became a way of life. "You?" Ando slinks forward. "A terrorist?"

Hiro looks away, thinking about Moab, about the Virginia Detention Center. "After Sylar exploded," he refuses to give Ando a reason to distrust Peter. "The world became a very dark place." That much, even Ando is beginning to realize, is a vast understatement. Hiro looks back to Ando, and there's both desperation and resolution in his voice. "And that is why we need to change it. Get him back so he can kill Sylar." Even if the younger Hiro can't bring himself to do it, if he can convince Ando, perhaps that would be enough.

"Then…" Ando isn't sure what to do, though. He looks at the crumpled uniform laying on the ground, then up to a Hiro he doesn't recognize. He tries to be assertive, tries to come up with a plan. "Let's go get Hiro. You can freeze time, we'll teleport in."

Hiro recognizes the effort, but Ando's not operating with enough information. "No, no," he takes a step closer to Ando, ending his circling. "It's not that simple. The Haitian has a way of stopping my powers." Negation gas, armies of robots, Evolved-collaborators, that list is longer than Hiro cares to admit. "We need help. There's only one person who's powerful enough to get us through," and in this, Hiro believes, there is no lie. "Peter Petrelli." Hiro states with resolve, bringing a hand up to rest on Ando's shoulder. "We're going to Las Vegas." With that, the two disappear in a rush of air.

The alley is silent, for the moment. Sirens wail in the distance, but for now there's a semblance of quiet. Smoke, thick and dark, slithers along the alley floor. It coalesces into a pool around the security guard uniform, then rises in an ever-churning pillar before rolling off the back of a wiry old man with a scraggly beard. Samson Gray takes the uniform in one hand, brows furrowed and stare directed at where Hiro and Ando were just standing a moment ago. There's a look in his eyes, one of something with dark intent. Something protective.

"Now," Samson murmurs to himself, "why would they want to go and do something as stupid as…" he drops the uniform. "Tryin' to hurt my boy?"

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