Moby Dick Has Babies


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Scene Title Moby Dick Has Babies
Synopsis And they're all swimming in Audrey's wading pool. Peter sings like a canary when Audrey takes him home to Momma Petrelli after the Hunter funeral.
Date March 16, 2010

Car ride through Brooklyn & New York

:imitates newscaster: SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

They'll make it to the Petrelli Mansion easily enough. If by easy you count the snow, the people who can't fathom how to drive in the snow but do it anyways, red lights, snowplows working around the clock to make it easier for those who have to get around, get around. Peter ensconced in the front passenger seat, a phone call made to get the address for the mansion which was then input into the GPS system and they were on their way.

"So a little bird tells me Petrelli, that you visited Hunter a few days before her death. Security had you coming in, and there was a post-it note with your name on it and a phone number" The female agent looks over to the ill man. "You can take the mask off. I'm not evolved, I can't catch what you have"

It's an awkward car ride, but it beats the cab he was planning to take back home. Reaching up quietly to pull down the face mask and tuck it under his chin. "All joking aside, Agent Hanson, I appreciate the ride. Probably want to disinfect the car once I get out…" There's a crease of Peter's brows as he looks down towards his lap where he left his unwound scarf. "I know this is going to sound rude of me," Peter's dark eyes turn towards Audrey, brows furrowed as the blurred cable supports of the Brooklyn Bridge whip by out the passenger's side window, "you're not just doing this as a favor, are you?"

Brown eyes drift away from Audrey at that, viewing the red glow of tail lights ahead of them. He was out here, on this bridge, just a few nights ago during the traffic accident saving lives. He feels so helpless to be the one in need of saving now.

"Maybe it is a favor. You've run into Sylar before. Who knows when I'll need someone with a bit of a more unique ability, like his, to catch him" Traffic crawls in the horror that is the snow, blizzard fast approaching. "What did Ivanov whisper to you? Pretty sure it wasn't him saying you had pretty eyes and asking you out on a date Petrelli. Cause I know you don't swing that way. Wanna tell me what my lackey told you or am I going to beat it out of you?"

Would she really beat him?

"He said it wasn't Sylar," which is to say either Felix is full of shit, or Audrey is, or a delightful mix of the two. Brown eyes watch the glow of tail lights, track the motion of windshield wipers pushing snow away, and then slowly track over towards the driver of the car. "Do you believe it isn't Sylar?" Which is to say, did it look like it? "I know Felix hates him, would do anything to catch him, and when he says it isn't Sylar, I tend to take that at face value. I— don't know you very well, agent Hanson, but I know the last time I saw you, it looked like you were pretty dedicated to bringing Sylar in too."

Brows furrowed, Peter tilts his head to the side, breathing in slowly and exhaling a wheezing sigh. "So which is it?"

"Sylar was present at the crime scene. we have footage of him entering and eyewitness's accounting for him leaving. Sylar was not responsible for the death of the Hunter woman and I am going to kick Felix's ass to Mexico and back for telling you that. Really. Information blackout does not mean tell dick and jane about details in the case" Audrey's pinched face has now got that angry lined quality to it.

"The crime happened previous to Sylar walking through the door. We think he interrupted the killer before much more could be done to the victims body. We're of the mind that there's a copy cat killer out there. Either he's got a protégé or he's got a very ardent fan. What's your thoughts on this Peterelli if the evo flu hasn't cooked your brains yet"

There's a heavy sigh as Peter brings up a hand to rub at his forehead, fingers working at his brow and something from his posture telling agent Hanson that he's debating coming clean about something. When she switches lanes, passes by a white box truck and through the easy-pass lane of the Brooklyn Bridge toll, Peter watches out the window the skyline of Manhattan, where the jagged ruins of Midtown rise up as bristling gray reminders of just how things got the way they are.

"You're wrong…" Peter quietly asserts, brows furrowed and throat working up and down in a dry swallow as he looks towards Audrey, "Felix is wrong." Dark brows crease together and Peter gives a slow shake of his head. "My dad used to say, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck: it's a duck." There's a frustrated sound when he admits that, looking down to the clock on her silenced stereo.

"Just because you saw Sylar in one place doesn't mean he wasn't in another." Sylar now, not Gabriel, not after what happened at the Lighthouse. "I don't know how, or where, or— he has replication." Peter's dark eyes drift over to agent Hanson. "The ability to make copies of himself that can be in more than one place at a time. I ran into two of them on Staten Island, he probably has more. I had the ability once, it's— it's hard to manage, agent Hanson. But if Wendy— " There's a crease of Peter's brows, "if Wendy was killed in a way Sylar would have?"

Peter's lips downturn into a crooked scowl. "It was him."

It's like, he just told her that Jesus had a brother who walked on water too and was named Bob. If they weren't in the tunnel, she'd be pulling over and likely grabbing a shoulder and looking him in eye. It takes her will to not do more than twitch her foot down on the brakes. "You're telling me that he has replication from someone, and there are multiple copies of him going around New York Petrelli?" Moby dick had babies and there's little white whales swimming in her wading pool.

She is not happy.

"Mind telling me how you came by this information and didn't see fit to tell Homesec that you saw him alive?" But something niggles, still doesn't make sense. "Do all his copies retain all his abilities?"

"I only saw it yesterday, I figured the government knew or— " Peter shakes his head slowly, "Sarisa Kershner, with the CIA she— she should've known, she was his handler for a while, when he was playing fair with the government." Peter's just full of all sorts of unfortunate truths tonight, and this one involves a shark below that water Jesus is walking on. "He has illusions, and replication, shapeshifting too if I saw everything right. He could be anyone, anywhere, anything." There's a nervous look to Audrey, and Peter slowly shakes his head.

"I didn't know he was killing, he— there's some confidential arrangements with the government I and he are a part of, we're not allowed to divulge what happened, but— there was a classified military operation that Sylar and I were a part of. Deals were cut, I— I thought he was dead though, he— I thought I saw him die." Peter thought a lot of things about Gabriel.

"I can tell you from what I saw on Staten Island, and what I know from experience…" Peter's brows furrow slightly, "When you have replicants like this, it screws with your mind, fractures things, splits you up into too many places at once. His clones?" The dreaded c-word, "They don't all see eye to eye. When I saw him, he was trying to kill one, and that particular replicant… it…"

Peter's head shakes slowly, eyes alight towards the glow of red tail lights through the windshield. "It was trying to protect the kids where it's living." It, like it's some sort of thing. "It's convinced that it's Jennifer Childs…" There's a brown-eyed look back to Audrey. "She girl who was murdered a couple years ago. I don't know why— how— but it looks like her, acts like her enough that it fooled her sister Gillian. It's probably still down at the Lighthouse, the orphanage for Evolved kids on Staten Island?"

Peter's chin tilts up, brows furrowed and anxiety tracing over his features. "It's only a matter of time before whatever she is cracks, if you're saying he's killing again. It's only a matter of time before that compulsion of his to kill comes back, and he just— snaps. There's children there, agent Hanson. Dozens of evolved children."

New York is a no talking on cellphones state which might be the reason why she's not popping open her cellphone and screaming for a tranq everything that moves order on the lighthouse. That and the blizzard that's descending. "How many clones does he have and do any of them have a form that is smoke. Smoke that leaves ash residue in it's wake. I need you to think carefully Petrelli" Inquiring even as she's contemplating switching to a different lane and opting to not go to mama Petrelli's. "Jennifer Childs is dead. Her body was found, scavenged by pigs and half missing, skull popped open in the traditional MO of Sylar."

"I know…" Peter breathes out, head shaking slowly. "I don't know all the abilities he has, he— I know for a fact he has illusions, whatever Jenny had, I imagine." Hydrokinesis. "He has some kind of light-based ability too, like— I don't know, it was really bright. The close that thinks it's Jenny can— I don't know, it's more like shadows than smoke, but it kind've looks like it. I— I don't think it leaves ash, but I don't really know a lot about the ability. It— it could, maybe?" Peter's brows tip down into a concerned look, dark eyes searching the dashboard for something else to focus on.

"His abilities— tend to fluctuate, I don't— I'm not sure of anything else he— Shapeshifting." Peter nods his head slowly, affirmatively, "The clone— Jenny's double— it can shapeshift into other people. I had that ability before, took it from Sylar. It— it's hard to maintain for long periods of time, so he has to have an inert state every so often where he returns to normal. It eats you up on the inside to hold it, like trying to clench a muscle?"

Shaking his head slowly, Peter curls his fingers into tight fists at his lap, staring down at his knees, eyes unfocused. "I know from my experience with replication, that— when clones branch off and you have multiple abilities— at least in my experience— they tend to take portions of your powers. This one gets that power, this one gets another. None of them are as strong as the sum of their parts…"

Peter breathes out a sigh, brown eyes turning up to Audrey, not watching that they've come down off of the Brooklyn bridge and entered into Manhattan. "If he killed Wendy, then— then there is no hope for him. I know what he's going through, I know how much of a compulsion that ability of his is. It's what makes him the monster he becomes, like— Jekyll and Hyde." There's a tight swallow, and Peter actually sounds saddened. "I thought he had it under control, I thought— " Dark eyes look away, out the snow-dappled passenger side window to the car adjacent. "He has to be stopped."

Could it have been him after all? As it stands someone in the government structure knew that he was alive, hell they'd used him and neglected to inform her. Hidden it from her. And then turned him loose again. "Then it's not him" Audrey states. "Smoke, but you don't think it left Ash. Different ability" Though she's mentally adding what he told her of his ability. "Imitating Jennifer Childs, weaker since he's a clone, might not contain all of the abilities. I should run you in and stick you in a cell for this Petrelli. So you can't do a double turn and go warn them off. I really should, but then I'd have your mother crawling up my ass and your brother and that would leave me looking like shit"

Looking like Agent Verse after the plane crash.

"Much as I would like to pin the killing on him Petrelli, I'm still not convinced. I'm convinced there's multiple versions of him right now out and about, but not that he did the killings. IF it was him, any one of him, his MO would remain the same. And they resemble, but not accurate. Like someone trying to imitate his style, but forgetting some details or altering them enough. The actual brains are removed with medical skill. Using what we have been told are medical instruments. Sylar has none of the first and doesn't need the second. The killings all had ash at the scenes. So I'll ask you again. Ruling out Sylar, is there anyone that you can think of that might be imitating him or that might be his protege?"

"He has more abilities than there are stars in the sky agent Hanson. He was in foreign countries, fighting, God knows how many more he got. You want to pin this— smoke thing on him, you're going to have to do it after you capture him. There's no one else in this world who has Ga— Sylar's ability. Not one single person. Now there's more than one of him, more than one Sylar and I'm willing to bet you that one of them has it. One of them… one of them killed Wendy Hunter and I'm— I am not going to let him just walk away from that."

Now who's captain Ahab?

"So… you didn't know— about the government thing?" Brown eyes navigate from Audrey to the windshield, watching the traffic lights they're at change from red to green, and the car slowly pull through the intersection, taking the long detour around Central Park and the ruins to get to the west side of Manhattan. "Felix knew…" Peter admits with an askance look to Audrey. "He was there. I mean, he's… under obligation not to discuss details but— it's Felix. I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"We'll see how how under obligation the rest of you are about answering questions about Sylar and this top secret mission" Mutters the brunette, this card ride revealing more than she's known in the last month, and just making her skin itch and crawl. It's going to make her crawl up some asses once she gets back to her office so that she can grab some intestines and start yanking until gold filled shit starts pouring out.

At least her partner will be talking, once she shoves her boot up his ass and see who else he was talking to about Sylar not doing it. If he talked to Peter, who else did he gossip with? "As much as I want to pin the copy cat killings on him, and with the clones running around like you say they are, I can't just jump onto that bandwagon when we got evidence that says otherwise Petrelli. So no, I didn't know about this government thing. I think Kershner is going to get a visit from me thanks to you singing like a canary. Course I'm gonna wish I had this all on tape so they can't claim that it's your fucking fever talking" Which they likely will.

"You want to help track down Hunter's murderer, then you know how to do it officially. But you're a paramedic, and I don't have a need for a glorified nurse to be dogging my steps and you look like you're gonna fall over dead if someone so much as breathes on you" She oh so kindly points out.

"And there are others. Maybe not exactly like his, but there's you. Absorb copies of others abilities and use whichever one suits your needs. So I'm sure there's others out there, just haven't registered" She hasn't re-acquainted herself with his file since 2006 it seems. "You have anything else that might help me Petrelli? Or are you all done shitting egg's of gold all over my seat?"

There's a dry laugh from Peter, a shake of his head and a faint frown. "Nothing else, really… Though I guess what I've already said's enough." There's a look out the driver's side window past Audrey, and Peter points ahead towards the windshield, "Take a left here, cuts out the detour from construction up ahead." As he makes that comment, Peter leans forward to stare at banners hanging on the concrete barricades dividing Manhattan from Midtown that proudly proclaim, A New Manhattan, A New Future. The Linderman Group Is There. He leans back in his seat, breathing out a sigh as he does, gloved hands folding in his lap.

"You don't have to worry about me getting in the way, agent Hanson, I'm no hero…" Peter offers a subtle shake of his head, brows furrowed and eyes downcast to his lap. "I just want to live a normal life like anyone else. I'm through— trying to force the world into something it doesn't want o be, you know?"

"You know how many have said that Petrelli? A lot of people. I'd love a normal life, where I'm not chasing a whale, or dealing with people who let him slip through their god damned fingers from incompetence. I'd love for once to catch him and have it stick. Suck it up Petrelli. You may sit here and be telling me that to my face, but you know and I know that's total bullshit. If the world and the people in it decide that you get a chance to be a hero, then you put on the fucking cape, and you be a hero. You don't have a choice"

"There's always a choice," Peter retorts, looking back up to Audrey with his brows furrowed, fingers still tightly pulled against his palm. He's quiet for a moment, watching nothing but the way the thermal fabric of his gloves stretches around his knuckles. "My dad had another saying…" he offers in quiet relation to what Audrey had said of him. Though when he delivers it, there's some wryness to his tone, something softer in his eyes than there was a moment ago.

"Everyone knows the right thing to do…" There's an incline of Peter's head to the side, brown eyes looking out the windshield of the car to the glow of tail lights in the now driving snow of the blizzard. "…the hard part's doing it." He swallows, noisily, and turns to look back at Audrey.

"I was never good at making hard decisions."

"Sometimes Petrelli, there's just the illusion of choice. Which is still no choice at all" She manages to say on the heel of having to brake a little hard thanks to the person in front of them. "And that's why you're Peter Petrelli and not Nathan Petrelli leader of the free world" She points out.

"So I suggest grabbing your balls from whatever shelf that you tucked them away on, and your spine and grow up and realize that you got given an ability for a reason over other people who weren't born with your genetics. Use it, properly. Show the people of New York that not everyone is Sylar, or the group of terrorists who blew up the bridge and the power plant. I'd almost say use it to help us catch this copy cat but somehow, I sense, I'd get told to look elsewhere"

Peter's eyes lid partway, head dips down into a reluctant nod, and as Audrey's car drives through several intersections in a fortunate string of timing with traffic lights, the somber snow-filled scene of Manhattan rolls by silently beyond the window at Peter's side. A long time ago, he'd believed everything Audrey's telling him, believed in the world enough to want to try and be the person he thought he was meant to be, a hero, somebody, something that matters. But every time he sees the scar of midtown, Peter knows deep down inside that it's not what he was meant to be.

"I have faith that the government can handle it…" Peter admits quietly, clearing his throat again from the irritation of phlegmy rattling at the back of his words. "Besides, the only battle I'm worried about right now, is this cold." Cold, like he's just got to have some chicken soup and everything all better. "We're here, by the way…" Peter motions a hand towards the windshield, and the large snow-draped estate surrounded by stone walls and iron gates. Home enough, anyway.

"Cold" Audrey shakes her head. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that there Petrelli. A cold" She flips her signal, turning in at the gate and pausing for security as she cracks her window and flashes her ID. "Agent Hanson, I have the younger Petrelli with me. Just driving him home from a funeral. If you could let me in" to either an actual person or some souless camera that will link to a person.

"If it gets worse, get your rear to a hospital. I've heard that you can die from this pretty quick, or worse. I'll be in contact Peter, if I have any more question so I suggest you don't go dying on me."

"I hear things too…" Peter sarcastically remarks, given his new job. "I plan on it, someone I care about's sick too, I'm going to make sure we have everything we need. My mother's already brought on a physician to take care of us, I should be alright and available if you have any further questions, agent Hanson…" Glancing out the windows as he hears the gates creak and grind open, Peter's dark eyes cast askance towards the silhouette of a man on the sidewalk in the snow as they're pulling towards the gate. There's plenty of people, out and about tonight, moving through the city. He's no different, puffy jacket and ratty blue baseball cap pulled down over a shaved head, stubble over his narrow jaw and hands tucked into his pockets. Peter meets the old man's gaze for just a moment, before Audrey's sedan slips silently in through the gate and the manor grounds.

"I appreciate the ride home," Peter finally says, looking back over towards the driver in question. "Here…" Peter awkwardly shifts in the seat, reaching down to his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, opening it slowly before holding out a card between two fingers, slipped from inside. "It's got my cell number on it, in case you need anything or think of anything. I'm more than willing to help, if it means bringing Wendy's killer to justice…" Whoever it may be.

When the car comes to a stop out front of the estate, Peter offers an askance look to Audrey and turns the card over to her with a smile behind his paper mask. "Stay safe, agent Hanson."

Old guy in the snow is looked at, gaze lingering a few before she focuses ahead of her and going along the long driveway till she's hitting the brakes and putting the vehicle in park. The card is taken between leather gloved fingers and tucked away into a pocket. "You'll help bring in a serial killer, but you want a normal life. Make up your mind Petrelli. You can't straddle or jump that line between being a bystander, or being a hero. You either are, or you aren't Petrelli. Figure it out. Stop saying it and just choose, concretely and do it"

"I said I'd help…" Peter notes as he unlocks the door and pulls the handle, popping it open to the blowing snow and strong wind, "I didn't say how much. Cooperation with law enforcement is expected, and I intend to cooperate as much as I can…" Sliding out of the car, Peter rests one hand ont he roof and leans back down inside to look at Audrey, scarf hanging loose around his neck. "Catching him's up to you, agent Hanson, but I have faith that you'll be able to do it." Leaning out of the car, Peter takes a step back and shuts the door, taking a step back away from the sedan and offering a sharp wave of one hand over his shoulder before he starts making his way towards the icy steps leading up to the manor.

Right now, he has more pressing matters on his mind than hunting aserial killer. He has someone close to him that's sick, a family to care for him, and a life to return to.

He can bury his head in the sand a little longer.

But not much.

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