Participants:
| Scene Title | Like An Old Glove |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Adam returns to New York and meets with an old friend, and some relationships only get better with age. |
| Date | April 20, 2009 |
The thunder of a subway car rumbles overhead, crossing a rail bridge that spans the divide of this dry reservoir. Every piece of metal girder-work overhead vibrates with the motion of the subway cars, creating a cacophony of industrial noises that reverberate off of the angular concrete slabs below. The noise creates odd echoes, distorted by the detritus of urban decay littering the reservoir gully.
An old, burned out car lies supported on cinder-blocks, spray painted with faded graffiti. Nearby a stack of fires makes a makeshift wall meeting up with upright sheets of aluminum sheet metal and chain-link fence that once served as a makeshift shelter for the homeless beneath this bridge. Though the empty silence that comes after the train car passes is a clear sign that they've long-since vacated the area. It's scenes like this — dirty concrete and rusted metal — that is much the canvas of every area in the coastal regions of Queens. Where once industrial parks littered the landscape with the sounds of business and work, now only lie the sounds of creaking steel and the distant hum of boats on the East River.
It's here, just a few blocks from the ruins of the Consolidated Edison power plant, that she passes like a stray cat wandering back alleys. As a fugitive on the lamb from the Company, the woman known only as Huruma must always be cautious that her shadow is not being followed. Careful that the huntress does not become the hunted. There is no way for her to know that such is the case tonight, that the distant eye of Arthur Petrelli searched her out using a gift stolen from the young Molly Walker. That armed with this information, an old ghost from her recent past would be coming to spark an unexpected reunion.
It isn't long before Adam comes into view. He's leaning against one of the broken, dirty walls. By the firelight from a metal drum, he appears to be reading a newspaper casually. "I can't believe, of all people, the Chinese have come to be so powerful. In my day, they were only good for cannon fodder." he tsks, then shakes the paper closed in a sharp motion and smiles softly, "Hello Huruma."
Maybe that is what she deserves for tuning away that usual field around herself, the one she uses so often to tell that someone may be getting near. Don't go against your nature, is the lesson for the hour.
Her attention is scouring the remains of where the homeless had been living, silently cursing the fact that they've now begun to avoid her. Easy pickings, you see- but if one glimpses you, you get to live on as an urban legend that steals the downtrodden in their sleep. At least the city is chock full of them, right?
When Huruma does move on, it is only to round the angular corner of a pillar and fall right into something that by all means- should have felt dozens of feet ago. Having come off of work at Lucy's fits her with a familiar outfit of black and bits of silvery metal. Heels coming to a crunching stop on the ground below, the tall African comes to a complete freeze when Adam's figure outlines itself on the wall. Her pale eyes are just as still, the pupils somehow threatening to stay at pinpoints even in the shade.
"In your day, th'Chinese were still Imperial." Huruma's answer comes after a slow pause and a miniature tick of one side of her mouth, upwards into a softly bemused expression; her voice is as velveteen as it has always been, Rs drumming and speed just above a drawl.
Adam continues to smile, there's an almost rueful look upon his features. He lets out a bit of a breath and says, "Well, I'm glad to see you're still alive, well and uncaptured. I'm sorry for leaving but.." he shrugs one shoulder casually, a bit of an impish look upon his features. He reaches down and opens up one side of his jacket, showing the rather nice clothes underneath, "Europe was good to me…and apparently the years have been good to my financial holdings." he pauses again, "And you? How have you fared so far?"
"They were lucky." Huruma's first reaction is to reason her previous captors as inept in duty. "And'eld me for one day." And frankly, for her, they were quite so. She clicks her teeth together audibly, almost immediately calming back to the point before Adam happened to mention imprisonment. Huruma lifts her forearms, crossing them softly over her stomach and curling long fingers into the crooks of both elbows. It is a languid position, and soon her weight is being shifted onto one long leg. The tense air of her finding Adam there disappears.
"Fair enough." She lids her eyes at him, the field in her mind finally clicking back into place and her own senses traipsing over to read the man's emotional state. Sure, he seems, content, but is he really? "You might'ave left, but… your money did not." Huruma coos in amusement, lips parting to allow her a short, smooth laugh. Adam may have gone on 'vacation', but the holdings he kept in New York went nowhere. "Not that I'm a material girl, of course…"
Adam smiles, "Of course." he lets a pause settle for a moment before he says, "Well, I wish the nature of my return was all social." he pushes off from the wall gently. Content might not be the word for his state, but it is relaxed…but underneath is this tinge of excitement, of this barely held exuberation. "But unfortunately, there's work to be done." he glances up towards the ceiling, wrinkling his nose a bit at the drab and dreary condition of it, apparently quite nonplussed with the tattered remains of something that was once great. He returns his gaze back to the african woman. "Arthur Petrelli, of all people, contacted me."
"Pet-trelli?" Huruma sing-songs, eyes coasting upwards in mock thought. "You told me very litt'e about tha'one. It is'ard t'miss his family, however." Nathan, the Politician. Peter, the Terrorist. The only reason that she knows of the latter is largely by ear- it was PARIAH that orchestrated her very breakout, after all.
Excited? About a Petrelli, no less. "Being 'social' is no'all …chatter. But work t'be done? I am listening." To make this point clear, Huruma even tilts her ear in Adam's direction, eyes watching his movements in a nearly sidelong position down her cheek. A rather cheeky little upturn remains on her lips.
Adam tilts his head to one side. He pauses for a few moments as he says, "Petrelli would like me to go to Japan and go to war with the Nakamura family." he says the last, nearly spitting his distaste. "There is.." he shakes his head, "A formula.." he waves a hand, "It hardly matters. What matters…" and now the true object of his excitement becomes apparent, "Is that I will work my revenge on Hiro and Kaito Nakamura." he almost shakes at this part.
Adam has reconnected.
There we are- words and names that she knows. Huruma wanders closer as Adam speaks, her steps deliberate yet slow. While her curiosity pegs a mental note at the utterance of 'formula', her full attention is transfixed on the rest. His excitement is more than understandable. If Huruma were looking for an afternoon of being entertained, she could make that shiver of anger catch ablaze- or not. She somehow manages to restrain herself, even if it would be easy pickings. Mediation is key.
"You know all m'favorite words…" War, revenge- add any other, and it equals quite a triumvirate for Huruma.
Adam smiles, caught for a moment in his own mind at the revenge he has for so long sought. He mms, "First, I think we'd be best served by recruiting a few more people." he says. "As much as I'd like it to be, my revenge on the Nakamura's is not the end game." he steps forward a moment and says, "Arthur has always been…" he pauses, "Well, his heart is in the right place, sometimes, but he's always been limited by his own quest for personal power…undoubtedly, once we have dealt with the Nakamura's he will re-evaluate our own usefulness…we should have some manner of dealing with him in turn." he shakes his head wistfully, "He was never the true student Linderman or Angela was.." he shrugs a bit, "Once we deal with Petrelli… we'll get on to doing what we do best — saving the world." left unsaid would be the ominous, by any means necessary.
"He sounds much like …any target of a coup." Together, Adam and Huruma have surely seen lifetimes worth of them. She watches the air far past Adam when she stops to linger closeby. Inside her head, there is quite possibly a million things going past the screen of her brain. Calculations.
"There've been quite th'developments since you've gone, Adam. Some names tha'you may b'thinking- t'put it simply- d'not exist on this plane any longer." A guess, but a well-reasoned one on her part, with what little facts she has gathered. "But." The word is sharp. "There are many more of us where I already tread. It woul'not prove too difficult t'find others. I also'ave somethin'you might find interesting… a painting." At this point, her words are just above a purr.
Adam arches a brow. He seems as if he will ask her about this plane matter, but then there's talk of some sort of present. He tilts his head to one side and then nods a bit, "A painting." he says gently, "Interesting….the Mona Lisa, perhaps?"
Everybody likes presents. Even Immortal Masterminds. "I wish." Huruma turns her head to look at him now, all with a faint expression of mirth on her own part. "A piece from a man tha'painted th'future." It is as if she is teasing him with the rest, just to see him react.
Adam is steady, but not /quite/ taking the bait. "So many of those." he says absently, "It's like everyday a new Nostradamus pops up." he pauses, but then loses his patience for the suspense, "Alright…and what's in the painting?" he asks.
"A familiar face. Or two." Huruma smiles, a flicker of white. "If I am no'mistaken, more Petrellis." Bet you're more interested in this Nostradamus now, aren't you?
Adam frowns, "They're like roaches, they are. If I had known how well they breed, I might have counseled Angela from marrying Arthur." he looks at Huruma, his anxiety subsiding slowly, ,she can feel it. He takes a different tactic, an immortal is nothing if not patient, "So tell me about these others we might be able to recruit."
A movement that very few ever see, Huruma rolls her eyes. It only seems so out of place because she only keeps it for the excruciatingly asinine moments. The rolling expression ends in a tiny snort of a laugh. "A few weeks ago, a man approached m'abou'joining wit'his boss- I scared him off, but I do know how t'find tha'boss." She begins, starting one part at a time. "Th'bar I work at- Old Lucy's, in Greenwich- it attracts us." The last words roll with their letters. "Finally, I presume you have heard o'th'wretched hive o'scum an'villany tha'is Staten Island, yeees?"
Adam hmms, "Old Lucy's. How… droll." but, he does seem appreciative and thoughtful. "Yes, Staten Island should have quite a few people to recruit. Although, I would prefer those that are more trustworthy over others, but we'll make due. Hiro will be formidable," unaware that Hiro is no longer master of time and space, "And then Petrelli will be… worse. We'll have to make do. I suppose we should see what other petty masterminds have been cropping up here and there." he smiles a bit, nodding his head in the direction out of here, "Ready to get started?"
"They are there, if one knows in which dark holes t'look." The tall woman takes a somewhat deep breath now, lips parting and eyebrows knitting in what seems like relief. "I thought you would neve' ask." Finally, something exciting. Of course Huruma is ready to get started, are you kidding?
She lingers half a step closer to within an arm's length, lifting hers out towards Adam and making a move to grasp at his chin with her fingers. It is moreso a playful attempt at messing with his face than anything else, and if she can get her paw on him, Adam's lower face gets a tender squeeze back and forth. "You've cured my long-lasting boredom."
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