Participants:
| Scene Title | Something Different, Something New |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Under cover of night, two continue their search. |
| Date | April 8, 2019 |
Bone snaps beneath meat in a muffled crack.
Barely visible, a body drops from where it was suspended in the air, crumpling down into a heap on the asphalt. A pair of gold eyes burn in the darkness, two rings like hot-forged iron. The young woman those baleful eyes belong to steps into the angular shaft of light in the alley, spilling from a second-story neon sign. She looks down to the body, then up and over to the darkness where someone else lingers.
Slowly, a man in horn-rimmed glasses emerges into the light, reflecting off of each lens brightly. “He might have known something…” he says to the young woman, who looks up and over to him with her brows furrowed.
“It does not matter,” is her quiet response.
Staten Island
The Rookery
One Hour Later
A motorboat with its engine cut coasts into the harbor under cover of darkness, pulled along by the Hudson’s strong current. As the ship is guided up to the lone pier, a single broad-shouldered man in obvious bodyarmor reaches out to receive the mooring line and goes to work tying the ship off at the pylon.
Two more armed paramilitary figures emerge from the nearby boathouse, assault rifles held at their chests and strides long and quick. They make it to the motorboat as two more armed men step off of it in similar attire, followed by a tall and white-haired old man in a black wool greatcoat. He motions to two of the armed men who follow him at a brisk pace across the pier to the boathouse.
“Here…”
A thousand feet away in the shadow of rough vegetation and thin trees, Noah Bennet offers a pair of binoculars over to the young teen crouched at his side. She takes the binoculars, scanning the far off pier and the men gathered around it. There's a noise, something uncertain, hitched in the back of her throat.
“You recognize any of them?” Bennet asks with a raise of one brow, looking over to the girl. She shakes her head, then pauses, and corrects herself with a reluctant nod.
“This body does,” is how she finally chooses her explanation. “He is Charles Sharrow, you would know him as Vanguard.” The girl lowers the binoculars and hands them back to Bennet, whose expression has visibly soured.
It takes a moment for Bennet to formulate a response. “What are they doing here?” He feels is the most pertinent question.
“I don't know,” is the girl’s answer, “but they are exactly what we need.” She rises from her crouch, moving to follow parallel in the cover of darkness. Bennet, awkwardly, rises to follow her.
“How do you know they're Vanguard?” He asks her in a whisper.
To which she replies, “They aren't, not anymore.” Then, she pauses to look back at Bennet with glowing gold eyes in the dark.
He pauses, tense. “What are they now?”
To which she can only reply, “Something else…”
“Something new.”