Participants:
| Scene Title | So It Was Written |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Amato and Kazimir discuss the nature of the Evolved, and recent events. |
| Date | November 11, 2008 |
Rockefeller Center, Ruins of Midtown
Despite the season, people don't skate at Rockefeller Center anymore. They haven't for years. The golden statue of Prometheus still stands in the midsts of a now dry fountain, but the Titan lost his luster, and some of his detail, some time ago. Far from the Venus de Milo, Prometheus is missing his uplifted arm, yes, but also half of his face.
It could be considered poetic that Amato has chosen this spot for his contemplation. The left side of his face mirrors Prometheus's in a way. His brow, temple, and cheek are covered in protective gauze pads in order to protect the blistered skin there. While the burns are thankfully not bad enough to warrant a doctor, Amato has been quite careful in monitoring their healing.
After his last rather heated conversation with Kazimir Volken and Ethan Holden, not to mention the events that spawned it and the odd encounters with two very strange and different women yesterday, the once-would-be-priest has a lot to think about. He sits on the concrete wall that once bordered the ice rink altar before the Titan, his coat wrapped securely around him. The burns beneath it on his left shoulder the left side of his back are insignificant when compared to the wound on his face, but even their slight, suffused heat isn't enough to ward off the autumn chill. With his arms folded across his chest, Amato's face holds a concentrated worry that has been etched there many times before.
It is the steady mixture of a cold and hard click, and the more muted thumping of footfalls that breaks the contemplative silence. Bitter cold as it is amidst the ruins, the chill seems to deepen just a little at the sound, as if Mother Nature herself was shrinking away from the approaching figure. "Prometheus…" The rough and gravley voice is like a familiar blanket to Amato, despite what ill-winds it heralds. "The Titan who dared bring the gift of fire to Man." It's unsurprising that he can find analogy in the symbolism here, in the way Prometheus' crumbling facade is presented. "Cursed to be tortured for all time, chained to a rock while an eagle devours his always regenerating liver." The footsteps stop just beneath the statue, and Kazimir upturns his had, regarding the toppled Titan in all his decaying glory. "Someone with a poetic mind could say that perhaps it is Prometheus who cursed mankind, giving them the fire that the Evolved represent. Perhaps in that way, we play Zeus' role…"
"That would be comparing us to gods, Master," Amato remarks without missing a beat. Though his education centered mostly on Christian ideology and history, he is no stranger to the Greeks and their myths. Amato doesn't turn to look at Kazimir, though he is fully aware of the man's presence. "Do not forget Pandora's role, man's punishment for Prometheus's actions." Where would mankind be without fire?
"I met an Eve yesterday," he adds, changing the subject seamlessly. "Though she lacked the knowledge one might expect Eve to possess, despite her similarities to Prometheus." That being the gift of foresight. "Did you know there is a verse in Genesis that accounts for the stories the Greeks told in their halls?"
Kazimir keeps his blue eyes focused up at the statue, watching the way the faint evening light plays on its once lustrous exterior. He makes no comment to Amato as his Conscience speaks, but instead makes with action. He turns at the waist, looking down to his subordinate, and then circles around him to the right, descending a flight of steps to the broken concrete walkway below, out onto where once a skating rink would have been iced over. His eyes survey the upheaved ground, the broken stone and blackened rock. Then his pale gaze lifts up to the jagged skyline not far beyond, and the skeletal husks of buildings threatening to collapse upon themselves.
When Kazimir moves, Amato finally lets his own icy blue eyes fall to him. He pauses, wondering if he should continue or not, knowing that his own views of the world and the Work aren't shared by many other members of the Vanguard. Making his decision and disliking the need to make his voice carry in such an open environment, Amato slips off the wall to follow after his master.
"There were giants in the earth in those days," Amato recites, his tone reverent and precise, "and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown."
He pauses near his master, inspecting the ground which was once covered in recreational ice. "Do you think that these giants, these demons, could have been the same that we encounter today? Other translations refer to them as devils, and the Hebrew calls them either divine beings or sons of God. Could they have been the Fallen Ones?"
"Comparing the Evolved to Nephilim?" One gray brow rises slowly, "Perhaps. Perhaps not." One hand tucks into the pocket of Kazimir's slacks, the other lifting his cane up to be held under his arm as he turns to face Amato again. "History is filled with the likes of this. Perhaps they are the likes of people spoken of in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the people of the heroic era, greater than any man known before or after." His eyes, so much the same color as Amato's, divert from his Conscience and stray back up to the statue behind him. "Had I not the chance to meet Mister Gray, I would find some measure of untruth in that fanciful notion…" His old eyes narrow slowly, "But there is something unique about him, in a way that not even he understands."
There's a few moments of silence as the cold wind blows through Rockafeller Center, sending tumbling scraps of old newspapers blowing over cracked concrete. "Did you hear about what happened at the warehouse yesterday evening?" There is a certain gravity to Kazimir's tone of voice, "Mister Gray's potential is far greater than I had first imagined, and my hypothesis about his ability seems to be correct."
Amato had not intended for the conversation to wheel itself around to Sylar, but as he is surely such a focal point in his master's mind these days, he expected it might. "You are so fond of words, Master. Of names. One of the translations of Nephilim happens to be "those causing others to fall." I have little doubt these creatures still walk this Earth, though they may have once soared in Heaven." Amato can't help but smile somewhat, but it is a passing expression.
He shakes his head as he brings his eyes to meet those of the man who gave his life a more direct purpose. "I escorted Munin back to Ethan's apartment, and I have spoken to neither of them today." There is an inkling, a guess though, that forms in Amato's mind. "Did he…did he bring you that girl?"
"I believe the good Doctor has motivations all her own, which is why I assigned Wu-Long to observe her." Kazimir breathes out a heavy sigh, lifting his eyes up from Amato towards the ruined statue again. "Whether or not Gabriel is aware of this is unimportant. He and this woman…" The old man's eyes narrow slowly, "They are complimentary, and I will allow them to continue their work for now. But the moment she proves herself to be a liability to our cause, Wu-Long will remove her from the equation. I worry the effect this may have on Gabriel, so I will need to have a contingency put in place for that."
Slowly, Kazimir looks back down to Amato again, "Munin needs some time off, from the Work. She suffered greatly at the hands of those… things." His head cants to the side, "I do not wish for her to be deployed on any other assignments directly until I say otherwise. Her health is important, and aside from observations with her familiars…" It's an odd term to use for her birds, but a fitting one, "She is to remain on leave of absence. Dina can fill Munin's role for the time being. Putting her in any further unnecessary harm would be, unfortunate."
"I couldn't agree more," is Amato's singular response to all of what Kazimir declares. His own eyes move back to the broken but birdless Titan, and his meeting with the Vanguard's leader falls to one of silent repose in the middle of a decimated monument to art and mirth.
 November 11th: The Painted Paths |
 November 11th: Not the Perfect House Dad |