I'll Do What's Necessary


alexander_icon.gif cat_icon.gif daniel_icon.gif helena_icon.gif peter_icon.gif

Scene Title I'll Do What's Necessary
Synopsis At the Surly Wench, there's a discussion of an upcoming mission, prophetic artwork, and plants in the blasted zone.
Date September 15, 2008

The Surly Wench

A punk rock pub through and through, The Surly Wench is dim, cramped, and incredibly popular. It's a small, rectangular venue with a bar bordering one entire wall. Despite this, ordering a drink on a weekend can be an exercise in line-waiting and rib-elbowing. There are a few small tables ringed with high stools for seating, but these are prime real estate. The majority of the patrons are forced to stand shoulder-to-shoulder on any given night. Almost half of the cramped interior is devoted to a low stage for live music. There's no dance floor. If you feel the need, you'll have to thrash in place.

Parking a block away from the club, the rather mish-mash group heading up the sidewalk to the Surly Wench just at the beginning of evening hours looks marginally out of place for the club's punk rock atmosphere. For all of the scene-people making their way inside, there's sidelong glances and leering stares given. A few people standing out front smoking eye Cat as the group approaches, she recognizes one of them as the young man who tried to take a handful of her backside one evening. Peter watches him as he makes his way up to the doorman, speaking quietly with him. He motions over to the group, then nods in Cat's direction.

"Alright, you're good." The bouncer states, holding open the door for Peter as he takes a step just over the threshhold, smiling towards the others, "Hasn't gotten packed yet, let's grab a table before it's standing-room only." He ducks inside, not paying a second glance to the thugs smoking out front. He'd put a damper on their evening enough by what was suggested to the bouncer, enough of a damper for now anyway.

Helena looks around, trying not to seem too wide-eyed about it. This really isn't her crowd. Of course, she really hasn't been part of any particular scene much since joining PARIAH. She hops onto a stool at the table and does her best not to look like fresh meat.

Daniel can be unobtrusive anywhere, it seems. The shaved head helps, you never have to worry about matching a hairdo. He sits quite close to Helena, perhaps protectively. He's been in a lot of bar fights, mostly on the losing end, but he knows how to lose /slower/ these days than he used to…

Alexander fits right in, being garbed in his usual Travis Bickle chic. His face lights up, once he recognizes the music being played. "Sweet," he says, blithely, "Mishto! I love this song," And without further ado, he wades in to the pit of 'dancers' - gotta stretch the point to call it dancing. It's more like a controlled, amiable combat with no real victor in sight.

She spots the man, all right. The painting she stars in immediately surfaces in Cat's memory and she keeps tabs on him with peripheral vision until she's inside and can't anymore. A short time later, within the Surly Wench's confines, she settles onto a seat and crosses her legs at the ankles. Some here recognize her; she acknowledges them with nods but is generally left unaccosted. "I feel a bit odd, being here without an instrument," Cat admits. And her eyes roam toward the bar, as the memory of how stout tastes surfaces.

Peter laughs, sliding off his jacket and throwing it over the stool on one side of where Helena is seated. Now she's, predictably, flanked by Peter and Daniel. It's a table familiar to Cat, over by the back corner near the stage. He glances sidelong at Helena and shakes his head, cracking a smile. Motioning over to the bar, Peter catches the — at least for now — unbusied tender's attention and makes a circular motion at the table, then holds up two fingers and gestures towards Cat. Perhaps it's that he's too much of a regular here now for his order to be known by hand-signs. "You guys look like you're enjoying yourselves," Peter says with a crooked smile, then eyes Helena. "You want anything in particular? I just ordered a round, so… I mean, I don't know if you drink. Not like he's going to card you, but…"

In prompt fashion, a large pitcher of a light ale is brought over to the table, pint glasses set out in front of everyone seated. From his apron he produces two bottles of Guinness, one dropped in front of Peter, the other Cat. "No guitar today?" He cracks a smile at Cat, wiping off something sticky and dried from the table with a cloth. "Surprising." Brows raised, the bartender pats Peter on the shoulder, then heads back to work.

"So, hopefully this isn't too bad?" He picks up the bottle, subtle snapping the cap off without touching it, "Better than the drafty rooftop down Midtown, at least for now."

Daniel admits, "I don't drink much anymore." What, anymore? At age 19?! "One or two, that's it for me." he insists gently.

Helena gives Peter a rueful smile. "Christ Peter, why don't you hold up a sign? I haven't been jailbait for a while." She seems more amused then anything else, and assures, "Whatever you've got is fine." Besides, he's already seen her drink beer. She looks over at Daniel suddenly, as if the prospect of seeing him drunk amuses her greatly.

"Thanks," Cat offers to the 'tender when her stout is provided. "Not today, no. But soon enough I'll be back to my stage prowling ways." And a thought strikes her. "Next time I play I might do an audience participation thing and invite people to come up and try their hands as musicians. Could be scary, but there could be gems out there, y'know?" She tilts her head to study the bartender's expression in response to the idea, and adds "Got any inside track on who might be best to invite like that? Don't really want to insult people's ears."

Doctor Chesterfield opens her bottle and fills the pint glass while looking around at the others. "They love me here," she states. "Welcome to Cat's Jungle."

Daniel volunteers, "Most of the old crews blew away after the bomb went off. No clubs, no call for emcees."

Peter, not being terribly adept at discerning age without asking, thinks nothing of Daniel's comment. He eyes Helena, that particular thought coming to mind about the shared beers one night, and he shakes his head. "Claire would've liked this," He says thoughtfully, then leans back on his stool, tipping his drink up for a long and deserved swig. It had been a busy week, and he hadn't been here since before Dani got hurt. He smirks as he listens to Cat's exchange with the bartender, watching her interact with the crowd here always seems to fascinate him. Helena's chiding, though, does elicit a teasing grin.

"So, aside from the drinks," Peter shrugs one shoulder, working out that grin, "I figured it'd be good to, you know, share information. Cat knows about everything, so far. I've confided a lot in her," He glances to Cat for a moment, then back to the others, "She knows about the work we're doing soon, who's there, and why we're doing it. I just told her today about Eve's paintings…" For someone as paranoid about being discovered as Peter often is, it seems a lot of trust has been leveled onto Cat's shoulders. "I figured explanations were deserved after I etched up her window." He says with a crooked smile, trying to explain it away otherwise from how it actually happened. "Dan and Al, though, I know they haven't seen Eve's paintings yet. I kind of figure they deserve a heads up, Dan especially… I don't think it's a good idea to wait longer."

Daniel says, "Why me especially? And…what's with the paintings, doesn't anyone …/hear/ the future?"

Al pops back up, looking sweaty and pleased with himself, to claim the last free seat at the table. Catching Dan's comment, his smile fades instantly, and he glances between the others there.

"Claire would love this." Helena agrees, and notes, "She sings." So does Helena, but for some reason she feels uncomfortable confessing that to Cat, like it might be interpeted as either a boast or some kind of pathetic attempt at impressing a real musician. She turns her attention to Daniel. "If you experience something visually, the easiest way to recreate it is through a visual medium." Her lips press tight - she's not altogether thrilled that Cat has seen her death. She looks unobtrusively at the other woman. It's obvious she knows, and now she knows Cat knows. Then, "You have to promise me you won't get upset." This is to Daniel and Alexander as he approaches, but mainly to Daniel. She almost doesn't want to be there when Cam does.

Daniel says, "What, does it show me dying or something?" He's joshing around, as much as Daniel ever does - a little smile, a sip of the beer.

She rests her eyes on Helena quietly as word is shared about how much she knows. "I'm in one of the paintings," Cat relates quietly. "And by knowing that, it's already been forestalled." It's unspoken as she makes eye contact with the blonde she saw damaged by rebar, that she doesn't believe the young blonde dying anytime soon. "I'd like to hear Claire's voice sometime. Does she play too? My eyes are open to forming a band."

Peter lets Cat speak, remaining quiet on the subject. But then, at Cat's next comment about the painting, and the events being prevented, he finally speaks up. "She's right, just because something's forseen, doesn't mean it can't be stopped." He hesitates, then looks over to Daniel, "But, yeah." He finally answers Daniel's question, "Yeah it does." He leans forward, breathing out a sigh. While Cat had seen Peter's current bedside manner in need of serious rethinking when at the hospital, his blunt delivery to Daniel seems to be an extension of it. "Eve had a dream, s'what she does. She painted some parts of it, a few paintings. They're up in her apartment…"

Shaking his head, Peter's gaze drifts down to the table. "She saw the result — " He corrects himself, "A result… of the mission we're going to go on. What I told you about, back at the meeting… Sylar?" He looks up to Daniel, "He kills you. Breaks you in half and discards you like a marionette." His eyes drift back down to the tabletop. "Helena too…" That much is said in a low and nervous tone. "I'm not saying it's going to happen — Because it isn't," He looks up with a more determined stare. "But I wanted you to be warned, to be aware of the danger. Alex, I didn't see in the picture, I don't think eve did either."

"Honey, nothing is written," Alex says, smoothly, glancing around the table.

"I don't know." Helena confesses, though this is to Cat, Daniel might think it's for him. She doesn't want to come out and say anything about her painting. But from the look on her face, she's seen them and been disturbed enough by them."

Daniel thinks about it a minute and then shrugs. He seems remarkably sanguine about the possibility of his own premature violent death, like he has considered it many times before. "Fuck it." he says, the profanity slipping out primarily because of the description of the massacre, moreso than his own involvement. "Guy won't even know I'm there."

For her part now, Cat seems content to quietly enjoy her pint of stout while others converse. Her eyes calmly move from one to another around the table as they speak.

Helena looks positively squirmy-uncomfortable. "You know guys," she says apologetically, "I'm kind of beat. It's a quick walk home and - Cat, I do want to talk to you more, and I'm sorry to bail." Her expression is very frank. "Hopefully I can sit down with you soon." She gets up from her barstool. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

Breathing out a sigh, Peter rubs at the side of his head gently with one hand, "Presumably that's what you were doing before you got killed." He hesitates, then looks over at Helena, frowning, "Then again…" His eyes drift back to Daniel. "I just want you to know, that's all. I'm not trying to slight you, or your skill. Lena's seen the — " Helena abruptly gets up, and as he listens to her, Peter frowns slightly, noticing her discomfort.

He rises up from his seat, walking over to where she's moved and rests one hand on her arm, leaning in to talk quietly to her, "You're alright, right?" His head tilts to the side, glancing at the table momentarially, then back to Helena. "I'll knock when I get back." Very quickly, he leans in, pressing a kiss to Helena's cheek, "Go get some rest." He seems consumed by other thoughts now, on his way back to sit down at the table, watching Helena depart.

Alexander seems entirely….nonplussed. Painted or no, it's all just marks on canvas, unless they can use it to plan or strategize. He gets himself a glass of the ale, and pops his neck, lazily.

"Hang on, Helena," Cat suggests as she stands. One hand reaches for her backpack and pulls out a sheet of paper, then a pen, with which she writes down some data. It reads Cat, Dorchester Towers apartment 101, and a phone number. She folds it in half and offers it to the blonde. "Take care," she says in farewell.

"I am." Helena assures him, holding Peter's hand a moment before giving his hand a squeeze. A smile is offered to everyone, accepting Cat's info with a murmured thank you, and then the blonde slips out, making her way through the crowd and out the door.

Daniel looks at something else when Peter and Helena get kissy. He sees nothink, he hears nothink. "Fuck it." he repeats. "Wait, what was I supposed to be doing before I got killed? Did the painting show that? Why was I even there?"

Looking up from his thoughts, Peter eyes Daniel for a moment and then shakes his head, "Not sure, Eve's description was… well…" He tilts his head to the side, "Par for course with Eve. I'm glad she painted it, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to make heads or tails of much." He taps his fingers on his bottle. "Odd are, trying to save Helena." He looks squarely at Daniel at that, "Don't know how or why, but that's just my guess. What worries me is no one else was in there… except our mystery man." Peter takea a sip of his stout, "That etching I showed at the last meeting? That guy was there, dressed in full on wild samurai armor. Makes no sense, but he was headless and brainless — Sylar's style." The bottle is slid across the table, back and forth between his hands. "I think it's more a warning, I don't know exactly how Eve's powers work."

Apparently that whole Baptist thing was a lie. Because Al's drinking. Though he's nursing the one ale like it's gonna last him all night. "What guy is this?"

Daniel says, "That doesn't make any sense either, why would Helena even be in the same room with the guy? It's you who has the beef with him."

She's gone back to listening after Helena takes her data and makes way out, while enjoying her stout. The eyes move from person to person tracking the conversation, but the mention of a man in samurai gear draws a question from Cat. "The man in the work at my apartment shows up in other work as a samurai warrior, except he doesn't have Asian features?" Her purpose, it seems, is to make sure it's the same person.

Daniel is more agitated about Helena's death than his own, it's clear from his expression.

"Oh right, you weren't there." Peter frowns, "Don't know for sure, we think he's an Evolved, and I'm pretty sure we're supposed to rescue him." Peter stops the bottle, catching it in his left hand. "I had one of my moments, like the one in Chinatown?" He eyes Alex, knowing he'll put it together, "When I came to, I'd used my telekinesis to glass etch half of Cat's apartment with a picture of this guy. Now Eve's painting the same person — dressed like a bad Kurosawa flick, sword and all — dead." He pauses a beat, "And yeah, just like Cat said — He's not asian." Looking over to Daniel, Peter furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"Maybe I was already dead, and he was cleaning house? No way to tell. Sylar will kill for the enjoyment of killing, and to do what I do — " He motions with one hand, "But without sharing. Just suck it right out of your head — brain and all." The description more for Alexander's benefit than Daniel's, "No telling what could make that happen, but knowing it's a possibility, and a likely one, that Sylar gets free? It's better having an idea, than not expecting it. Besides, depending on how Cameron divides up the teams, you and Lena might end up being with me on execution duty."

"Can do," Alex says, staunchly, though he's glowering down into his beer.

Her question answered, Cat returns to silent observation and slow consumption of her stout.

Daniel finishes his beer, looks down into the empty bottle. "That would be pretty dumb of Cameron to do given the paintings, plus the fact that I don't even know if I could do it if it came down to it. I've hurt guys pretty bad, maybe even killed some defending myself, I've set bombs to hit dudes who are soldiers and guards, but going into a prison to cap a guy /already in prison/ is some serious Mafioso execution style shit and there's a reason I'm walked away from that game. I don't have the heart for it, I never did. Maybe you and Helena do. But I'd be a gamble."

"I'll do what's necessary." Peter says, but his tone of voice seems conflicted. He doesn't like it, but there's determination there, "Lena…" He shakes his head, slowly, "If I had my way, and if Cameron is thinking straight, I'd have you and her on the opposite side of the facility from me and Sylar. Wirless is going to need physical people on the floor when she starts disabling security and shutting down doors, and after I heard about what you did to those guys in China Town?" Peter cracks a smile, "I know you can keep her safe, and handle the job." He sighs, quietly, "Cam's call, though, not mine." More and more each day, Peter's beginning to sound like he wishes it was his call.

Alexander's eyes have gone heavy-lidded, as if sleepy. He doesn't look up from the booze. "Listen," he says, quietly. "If it's gonna come down to something that cold….let me do it. Not some kid with no blood on his hands."

Her mind calls up another painting of possible prophetic value, and she speaks of it in an inquisitive voice. "The most recent work, the graffiti, what thoughts are you guys having about that one?" Cat asks. "It looks to me like something growing wild out of the blast area, it could be a metaphor for a movement. Has anything prophetic ever dealt in metaphor, or is it always literal? If it's literal, well, I'd recommend getting some geiger counters and making checks of the area to see how hot it still is."

Daniel shrugs: "Drunks." he says, like it doesn't even count that there were a lot of them and he wasn't even armed or able to /breathe on his own power/ for much of the fight. He observes Peter's expression closely when Helena is discussed, reaches some conclusion, shrugs his shoulders and leans back with that same 'fuck it' expression on his face. He looks abashed at Alexander's suggestion: "I'm not clean, man. Don't make me out to be some choirboy." he joshes. His grammar, always chosen with close focus, gets a bit worse even after one beer, sliding back down into street rhythms.

"If you have the opportunity, Alex, and you didn't take the shot at Sylar," Peter tenses, "I'd kill you myself." He cracks a smile, perhaps somewhat tense, trying to make it difficult to tell whether or not he was joking. Alex's prior experience though, indicates that it was clearly meant as a gentle reminder of the risks taken when signing up for PARIAH. "Cameron's going to assign us all, so there's no telling who we're going to be working with. If he's smart, he'll keep people like Eve who don't have offensive powers back home." He cranes his head to the side, looking at the pitcher for a moment before turning back to the others. "Word is we're moving out Friday. I figure Cameron's waiting to have a meeting either tomorrow or the day after. You two should try and get in some training against each other, maybe down Midtown." He motions vaguely in the direction of the blast zone. "Telekinetic versus someone who can phase?" His brow arches, "I think it'd be worthwhile for you two to see how that works out. We all need a bit of practice now and then."

Finally adressing Cat's query, Peter looks thoughtful, "Usually it's… like painting something that's physically there. As if you're viewing a snapshot in time. That's what Isaac did, and that's what I've done." He seems thoughtful about that, "I'm not sure what it means myself, I don't even remember painting it. Just like that image in your apartment," His eyes lift up from the table to Cat, "I just woke up and it was done. It's the only two times that's ever happened, and both times I didn't just paint, I used my powers… Both times wore me the hell out." He frowns, intently, then looks up to Alexander and Daniel hopefully. Maybe they have insight.

Alexander flicks a look at Daniel, calmly. "You sound like you got more of a conscience than I do," he says, taking a pull from his beer. "Practice is always worth doing," He shakes his head at Peter. "The future stuff is beyond me. So long as we can change it, that's all I'm worried about."

Daniel says, "It couldn't hurt. I'm always up for something new." He listens: "Well, maybe there's going to be some giant plant thing growing down in the blast zone. Someone with plant powers maybe. There's got to be one."

"Interesting. The meaning of it could be off, it may be some sort of genetically altered mutant plant that grows in radiation still present and becomes dangerous, or a combination of plants, actually. There was the main one and vines growing too. But, if it means exactly what it looks like, perhaps stuff can grow in that area now. It would be embarrassing to the government if that got out, I'd think." Cat takes another drink of her stout, after which she adds "If it pans out, I know just the person to break the story." Then Daniel's words get quiet consideration. "That's possible, someone with an ability like that could heal part of Midtown and get some positive press for us, maybe."

Peter's brow lowers, and he looks back to the door, "Plant powers…" His lips part after he says that, and it looks like his thoughts are racing a little. Cat, however, manages to bring him back to reality when she speaks, grounding his focus in the here and now, and not a conversation from weeks ago. Cat, as ever, proves to be the voice of salient understanding, and Peter's nod from what she says draws a smile as well. "I hadn't considered… any of that, actually." He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck with one hand. "Though Dani's in no condition to be breaking anything else right now," He adds lightly, smirking across the table in response. "Maybe once this week's done, and we're celebating our victory of a mission complete, we can look into checking out the blast zone. The radiation doesn't bother Claire and I, we could do a few sweeps out there, see if anything odd shows up." He smiles, absently, then looks back to Cat. "You know, we really could use your analytical thinking in a more… direct manner."

Daniel says, "Radiation doesn't bother me. For obvious reasons. Just have to get safe air in the canister and I'm good to go." He doesn't mention the obvious reason to Cat. He figures at some point she'll see for herself.

Alexander just shakes his head, mutely. His gaze has gone distant. Please, no 'CHARLIE'S IN THE TREES' flashbacks.

"Good point, the three of us could cover a lot of ground that way." Peter pauses to think, rubbing his chin and withdrawing his hand with a disgruntled expression, "I really do need to shave." His eyes narrow, the almost full-beard he's sporting now not being entirely fitting for him. With a shake of his head, he pushes his bottle towards the center of the table, "Haven't even had time to take care of myself with everything going on." He groans, leaning back on his stool, one shoulder brushing the brick wall behind him. "I think I might head back early, try and concentrate hard enough to not regenerate and manage to shave this down to something more manageable at the same time." Peter rolls his eyes, then reaches into his pocket for his wallet, slipping it out and opening it up to pull out a wad of money — How does he have so much without even working? He lays down a few bills on the table, setting his bottle on top afterwards.

She has the images from the graffiti stored in memory, and thinks on it further in silence for some moments, with what Peter just said echoing in her head. Analysis, directly applied. What kind of plants are those? She doesn't know, but Cat can certainly start looking through books and websites, any source she can get her hands on, until she finds a match for what's depicted in that artwork. A slow grin starts to spread, the source of which she keeps to herself for the moment. She opts instead to ask "What sort of thing are you speaking of, Rock?"

Daniel nods in farewell to Peter, making no further commentary. "Rock? You call him 'rock'?" Daniel thinks that's hilarious, which he displays by smiling slightly.
Alexander murmurs, amused, "On this rock I shall build my church,"

Peter casts a sidelong glare at Cat at the comment, "Beard." He states emphatically, narrowing his eyes for a moment before cracking a smile. Then, hearing Daniel and Alexander's reaction, Peter glances over at them and then colses his eyes and sighs, shaking his head, "You kids have fun," He says sarcasticly, throwing both of his hands in the air and washing himself of the whole ordeal. "I'll see you guys tomorrow…" He pauses, looking back over his shoulder to Cat. "Probably stop in and see how Dani is doing tomorrow too, if I get time." He glares at her in a teasing manner again, snagging his jacket and sliding it on, upturning the collar.

Daniel doesn't get it. "Huh? Who's church?" Someone at this table did not finish high school and did not have what you'd call a churchgoing upbringing.

Alexander explains, quietly, "Jesus was a punster. The first pope was Peter. Peter is Greek for 'rock'. When he told Peter about the Church he was gonna found, that's what he said."

"The name appears in similar forms in most western languages now," is offered as commentary on her use of the term. "Pedro, Pyotr, Peter…" It's a possible hint of pedantry in the woman who forgets nothing. Moments later she lets the subject go and turns to the Petrelli. "See you soon," Cat states. "I should be heading back soon." Her iPhone is checked for the current time. It's 5:30.

Daniel says, "That's crazy man, Peter is Greek for rock, I thought it meant…uh…never mind. Crazy. All right, see you later, Cat. One more drink and then I gotta go too, Alex."

Still shaking his head, Peter waves one hand over his head in a makeshift farewell, weaving through the crowd and then disappearing into it. At some point he merely steps behind someone, and then is gone. A few moments later the front door swings open, as if by a gust of wind.

"Ditto," Alex says, simply. "Later, Cat. Good to meetcha."

She finishes her pint of stout, then collects the backpack by her feet. It's slung over one shoulder, and Cat turns to the two who remain. "Likewise, Daniel, Al." And out she goes, chuckling, while having opted not to mention something about Daniel being the guy who survived getting thrown to lions, or the Greek origins of Alexander.

September 15th: Just Another Day on the Job

Previously in this storyline…
Just Another Day on the Job

Next in this storyline…
Out of a Hat

September 15th: Feedback (Or Sandpaper Smooth)
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