Take No Prisoners


abby_icon.gif alexander_icon.gif teo_icon.gif trask_icon.gif

Scene Title Take No Prisoners
Synopsis Abby shows the rest of the class what happens when a PARIAH agent forgets the password when encountering a sentry. When the threats and terror abate, a whole lot of foot-in-mouth ensues.
Date October 27, 2008

New York Public Library

Once upon a time, the New York Public Library was one of the most important libraries in America. The system, of which this branch was the center, was among the foremost lending libraries /and/ research libraries in the world.

The bomb changed that, as it changed so much else.

By virtue of distance, the library building was not demolished entirely, like so many others north of it; however, the walls on its northern side have been badly damaged, and their stability is suspect. The interior is a shambles, tattered books strewn about the chambers and halls, many shelves pulled over. Some have even been pulled apart; piles of char in some corners suggest some of their pieces, as well as some of the books, have been used to fuel fires for people who sought shelter here in the past.

In the two years since the bomb, the library — despite being one of the icons of New York City — has been left to decay. The wind whistles through shattered windows, broken by either the blast-front or subsequent vandals, carrying dust and debris in with it. Rats, cats, and stray dogs often seek shelter within its walls, especially on cold nights. Between the fear of radiation and the lack of funds, recovery of the library is on indefinite hiatus; this place, too, has been forgotten.

Sergei is standing watch this evening looking out the window to see if anyone is approaching in the early hours of the night.

A tall thin figure, jacket done up, face buried in a scarf, blonde hair sprawled across shoulders and hands jammed into her pocket starts picking her way carefully towards the library, mindful of not being seen deliberately by those not supposed to see her come there.

Trask calls out a code word as she approaches the steps, his gun leveled on her he waits for the response.

'Lost boys" comes muffled from the scarf. 'Or is is Darfur. One of the two" Abby halts where she is, showing her empty hands to Trask.

Trask steps forward and leans down to take a look at who it is, he frowns a little, "You know that he has the ability to look like us…even my power can't stop that."

"Sorry, it's cold, and I had a few drinks. That makes one a little less likable to the cold" Abby unwinds her scarf till her face can be seen. "How you doing Sergei?" There's a smile, despite the chiding that she got from him.

Trask smiles, "Pretty good…thanks for helping me move the fridge the other day." He waves his gun to let you go inside past him.

"Can i stay out here with you? I came by to check up on how food was settled here, before heading back home. Liking the cold better right now, and no problem. Glad to help. Doing whatever it is I can do" Abby winds the scarf again. 'Going to be getting a second job, maybe help get some things for here that they need and can't use the gold yet for.

The sound of a gun cocking, and Abby feels the pistol up against the back of he head. Trask is suddenly very close to her. "What have you done with her?"

Oh this was not at all what she was expecting. Noooo not at all. Suddenly her stomach is way down, and her throat is in her stomach. "Not him, so not him, not him at all, ohhhh heavens please don't shoot me Sergei. I gotta work tomorrow and I really don't want my parents being told that their daughters missing" The drawl gets a little more stronger and her hands are up in the air to either side.

Trask 's Russian accent is still thick, "You doncha know the password, and you don't know what we did yesterday, tell me one reason I should put a bullet in your brain pan. Tell me one thing that will convince me you are who you say you are."

'We moved stuff! We moved a bed, some chairs! We talked ab.. about… oh sweet jesus your going to shoot me" Jello knees. 'We talked about what I did, what I thought about what Helena and Pariah were doing" She's literally shaking, terrified.

Trask hisses, "Details, something he wouldn't know you told me…tell me your sister's name? You remember talking about her right?"

"I don't have a sister. I didn't tell you about my family. You never asked me about them." Abby closes her eyes shut tight. fabulous, death by Russian. She giggles, that little desperate this is the end of the world giggle. "Russian Roulette"

It's time for a shift change. And Al comes creeping along - not really stealthing, but not making much noise, either. He's got a pistol at the back of his waist, but not one of the shiny new rifles. He's in army parka, worn fatigues, and a faded comfy t-shirt. "Hey," he says, amiably, as if Trask didn't have someone at gunpoint.

Trask pulls the gun back from her skull and nods to Alex, "Hey…" he punches Abby in the shoulder, "I'm sorry but…you understand right?"

No gun now to back of the head. No fainting at least, but Abby does sink down to her knees and look up at the sky past trask, dumbly nodding before she lets loose one really long winded and heartfelt prayer. Something about thank you Jesus for not having her brain splattered all over the wall of the library and she needs a really stiff drink. At least another.

"And what was that all about?" wonders Al, one reddish brow arched enquiringly.

Trask looks down at Abby, "She forgot the password…and didn't remember what we did yesterday. I thought she was Sylar." He sighs, "Looks like she was just having a bad night." He reaches down to offer her a hand.

"I said it. Darfur, lost boys" She takes the hand up, still shaking. I mean come on, how often does one find themselves with a gun to their head. "Death by Russian roulette" That is muttered under her breath. "Went to Rapture. Customer thought I should live a little not in a pink skirt and white apron. Too many hands on my rear. Now, now I think that I need to go drown in some alcohol some more so I can forget this"

Alexander cocks an eye skeptically, but doesn't press the point. "Glad I don't have that happen to me when I work there," he says, amused.

Trask has put his gun away at this point, since Alex has taken position. "Abby…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to scare you."

"Sergei… your doing your job. I'm upset, yes, but better that others here be safe, than … than.. well.. you know.." She doesn't want to say it. "How the hangover Alex? I help you enough yesterday?"

"That would explain the miracle, then, wouldn't it?" Al says, grinning broadly. "Not just the Tylenol and the Gatorade."

Teo has arrived.

Trask watches them talk. He remains where he is, his hand still on Abby.

"Yeah. me. Miracle worker. Heal the sick, cure cancer, loose a finer, nooo problem I can grow it back for you" She's still a little shooken up, but she's getting back to normal. Abby looks to trask and then his hand on her and nods, then nods again, keeps on nodding.

Alexander has apparently just shown up to take over Trask's current sentry post. He's got a pistol stuck into the back of the waistband of his fatigues, dressed in drab clothes and army jacket.

Trask is in his normal Sergei outfit, faceless and heavy Russian accent. He has his own pistol holstered now, and he looks at Abby, nodding as she nods, they look like a couple bobble heads.

Footfalls in the hallway, and there's a figure emerging from the dark and dusty recesses of the library, either because Teodoro found a back way in — not too hard, while they're still patching windows and shit — or because he's been here awhile. Which wouldn't be altogether surprising, either. "Che c'e?" Blue eyes move between the bobble-headed uniformed soldier, and the bobble-headed blonde, before shifting inquiringly to Alexander, whose skull seems most firmly attached. "I thought I heard something."

"Just me" Head bobs. "Pleading for my life, that all, ohhh i'm gonna go be sick now, just a moment hmm?" Polite as you may, trying to move away from trask, her own scarf being pulled down finding a place that's not in direct view of the others to loose the contents of her stomach.

Alexander recoils a little. "What brought that on?" he wonders, making a wry face as she's ill. Oh, yuck.

Trask lets her go, but then walks over and kneels next to her, rubbing her back and attempting to reach for her scarf and hair, and anything that might be possibly in the path of what is coming out.

Unless Al particularly minds and indicates it, his right shoulder suddenly acquires a proportion of Teo's weight, as the younger man rests his elbow on it and cranes his head to peer around the copper-haired veteran and at Abby's shuddering back, then the man who comes to her side. His right eye skews narrower than his left, which momentarily goes very round, a comical look of grotesque fascination, before his features relax into sympathy. He tries to make sense of her words without much success. "Pleading for— what? Somebody tried to kill her?" The tension in sentry and former-sentry is gauged with a furrowed brow. "The worst over?"

Not the prettiest thing, and she flinches at Trasks help, but soon enough, what little was present there, is gone and she's kneeling up, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "Thanks" Mumbled quietly. 'Don't say your sorry, one more time. You did what you had to. My stupid. I deserved it"

As if Al would mind. "What caused that?" he reiterates, red brows drawing down towards his nose. "What do you mean - pleading with whom?" There's urgency in his voice now, despite his attempts to keep it light and even. He reaches up to ruffle Teo' hair absentmindedly.

Trask looks over. "Like i said before. She gave two separate passwords, and forgot some stuff from yesterday, so I mistook her for Sylar." He sighs not wanting to go over it again, for Abby's sake if nothing else. "I guess I kinda…intimidated her."

'What he said. I was stupid, that was all, stupid and it nearly got me killed" She's puts herself back together, straightening her jacket and scarf. "I'm good. I'm okay. Just a lot of praying come Sunday. You heard from Cat yet Teo?" There's a punch, weak, landing on Trasks shoulder this time, hoping it tells him that all is okay between the two of them.

Teo's right eyebrow climbs high on his forehead, before he pulls a little-boy squint under the cabbie's tousling hand, not quite a grimace for how quick it cracks into an equally childish smile. Which fades sympathetic the next moment. "Oh, poverina," he says for the girl. Whereas he's privately impressed by Trask's competence and thoroughness, he gathers now wouldn't be the time to mention that. He rests his chin on his wrist, shifting on his new found arm-rest, and glances through the room to spare Abby the embarrassment of overmuch scrutiny. "Prayer helps, but the bathroom's through there. I can get you some water. Or a cup of tea— I owe you some kind of boiled beverage. Thing." Coffee the other night saved his life, after all. To her question, he shakes his head. He hasn't been at his most social. "Not yet." A beat's hesitation, unsure if she really wants to discuss this now. "You?"

Alexander eyes Teo, but doesn't step away. "There's soup in the kitchen,"he offers, in a rather oddly paternal manner. "We have to be careful," he adds, with a barely restrained sigh.

Trask sighs and smiles behind his scarf, "Let me pour you some soup, ok?"

"There's a definite roll of eyes from the woman. 'Chivalry, is not dead. It's very much alive and well and here. No, I don't need sound, I don't need a hote beverage, no I haven't talk to her yet, and no, I think, I just want to stand here and being in the cold for a little bit, if no one objects" She lifts a hand. 'And I will have y'all note, I did not faint! Nor did I pee my pants"

When eyed, Teodoro glances downward to see if he has something on his shirt. Lacking that, he eyes the man back, briefly, what he's come to understand that Americans term 'the hairy eyeball,' or a good-natured parody thereof. He sobers up instantly, looking at Abby. Her rebuke then elicits an appropriate response: he beams enormously, then instantly tries to smother it, mostly fails, his cheek twitching. "Chivalry ain't dead? Apparently, the gender dichotomy is. Good news to the queer theorists," he remarks, wryly. Straightening, he lopes toward the bathroom. Calls backward, "I'll go get stuff to clean that up, then."

"I'll do it. I can do it without actually touching anything, after all," Al notes, amiably. "If you'll get the cleaning gear." Teo's departing back gets a pat. "Well done," he notes to Abby, in all apparent seriousness.

Trask smiles to Abby and wraps her scarf back around her, "So What are your plans for the rest of the evening? Robbing a bank and then going sky diving?"

"See, chivalry, not dead. I had planned to check food supplies and then go home, like Is aid before Is crewed up. Now maybe, I should see if there's something to drink. Maybe something hot after all" No move is made by Abby to wrap the scarf herself, letting trask do it.

From the bathroom, there's a clunk of hollow, plastic objects, a squeak of hinges, and the wall plaster mutes the grumbling susurration of running plumbing. Teo isn't long, returns with a bucket of water gone all foggy gray with soap, iridescent bubbles still zooming spirals around on the surface, a mop in the other hand. He sets the first object down by Alexander's feet, the handle swinging down to its side; the mop, he holds out to Alexander in a loosely-wrapped hand, expectant. He cocks his head at Abby, either testing her temper or her mood, a quizzical expression gentle on his features. "If I can't make you some, will you make me some?"

Cue the Sorcerer's Apprentice routine. Al even whistles a few bars to himself, as he takes the mop from Teo, and then lets it apparently stand on its own. IT goes about its business swiftly and efficiently, with no faltering, and in moments all is clean again.

Trask watches as the mop moves to grab the spot closest to Trask in the last moments of cleaning up. The mop falls to the ground lifeless, and Trask mumbles, "Sorry" stepping away from it. He offers Abby a flask from in his coat.

"Yeah, I can make some" Abby watches the broom as well with no small amount of fascination. She's been around the last week or two, but that doesn't mean that she's seen it all. The flask is taken from Trask, top unscrewed and throws her head back to pull deeply from it before she carefully wipes the mouthpiece off with the end of her scarf and rescrews it on. "Sticky note to myself, Buy alcohol for the hideout hmmm?" Liquid courage.

Teo's better-acquainted with Alex's telekinetic prowess than Abby is, perhaps, but it's still funny as Hell to watch. He puts his hands in his pockets and grins, watching its oddly domestic solo dance. Looks back at the healer. "Excellent. Grazie," he says, always one to mind his manners. When the mop keels over, he walks across the floor to snag it from the floor. Despite the temptation to remain lazy once Alexander's gift can take over again, he ultimately decides to go and grab the bucket and its… revised contents, snags them and carries them off to get rid of it. "I don't like red," he calls back.

"Thank you, Teodoro," Al says, approvingly. Less so with the booze - talk about tht Baptist past. Abby gets a wary look, or rather, her bottle does. "It's okay, lad," he says to Trask. "Nice to know you are what you are."

Trask smiles and sighs looking out at the ruins of the city nearby. "I guess I should turn in…"

The flask is handed back to Trask, a soft thank you. "What does he mean by, not red?" Flask done with, just a mouthful of liquid courage after all, and her hands are plunged back into her pockets. "Should you? Should I walk you somewhere?"

"IT means he's not a communist, despite being Russian," Al says, serenely.

Trask shakes his head and look at Abby. "You don't have to come with me, your free to go…or come, your not my prisoner…anymore." He winks at her.

A few moments later and Teodoro stumps back out. Domesticity and obedience only looks a little odd on his tall frame, but only a little; everybody pulls their weight around here. "Wine," he says as he draws close, parking next to the telekinetic. Angles him a scowl for messing with the girl, before a smile tugs the corner of his mouth upward. "I only drink white. Honestly, I'm barely Sicilian at all." He scratches his nose, considering his beverage preferences for a protracted moment, before a stray thought intrudes. "Wonder if we'd let high school students into it. If we stock some."

A few moments later and Teodoro stumps back out. Domesticity and obedience only looks a little odd on his tall frame, but only a little; everybody pulls their weight around here. "Wine," he says as he draws close, parking next to the telekinetic. Angles him a scowl for messing with the girl, before a smile tugs the corner of his mouth upward. "I only drink white. Honestly, I'm barely Sicilian at all." He scratches his nose, considering his beverage preferences for a protracted moment, before a stray thought intrudes. "Wonder if we'd let high school students into it. If we stock some. And high school students suddenly enlist," he adds, a touch awkward as he realizes his vague, hypothetical notions suddenly started to get voiced aloud.

Alexander merely whistles the theme from 'The Godfather'. Apparently attempting to bait Teo.

"Oh! Wine!" But she looks at Trask strangely, just a moment or two before she waves him off. "Go. Hold some other pretty bible thumper hostage. I bet there's more than a few waiting" She smiles, let him know she in on the joke, not upset. 'I keep the troublesome twosome here company yes?"

Trask nods and sighs, "Da have a good night everyone, I have to be up for work in the morning."

Zoning back in, Teo blinks, shunts 'self-consciousness' under the carpet where it can go bother people who aren't twenty-years-old, male, and profoundly Sicilian in every other aspect of his life other than his wine preferences. "Ciao, Sergei," he calls, casting a distracted wave at the man, the rest of him evidently occupied with giving Alexander a Warning glare. Eyes narrow, baby blues scintillating, terrifying, cold, soulless; stabbing icicle metaphors might apply. He fakes a shove at the man. Then another one, abrupt scuffs of movement, trying to fool Alexander into a false sense of… something. "What do you mean 'troublesome?'" he asks, beatifically, before he finally makes his lunge. Headlock, a variation of strangulation: one form of bonding.

Alexander is taken utterly unawares, but doesn't put up much of a fight before dissolving into laughter. "Perfidious Sicilian," he says, once he can manage to make himself understood again "Night, S," he adds, belatedly.

"Troublesome, funny, getting into trouble, each time i've seen you both, you've been poking at one another" Abby turns to head into the building, since now she's allll clear. There's a pause, a turn back to the two. 'are you both… you know… together?"

'Perfidious.' Ever the linguist, Teodoro even knows what that one means. "I fucking hate that TV series. Prime-time America tripe," he's announcing, somewhat more loudly than anybody in the area of a slated guard sentry ought to do. "I'm—" Abby's question stops him short as if he was kicked in the junk. With an industrial bulldozer. Rendered momentarily dumb, he stares at the girl for a little over two seconds; the blinks of his eyelids are almost audible. The next moment, his arm pops open, freeing Alexander unto the Earth. "No," he exclaims.

Alexander is summarily dropped, though he mostly catches himself with his hands. "No," he says, more mildly. Cue a speculative look at Teo, however. Hm.

"This is.. one of those moments where I have stuck my foot into my mouth yes? I blame the gun" There's another nod to herself and a look to the others.

Teodoro's own feet are rooted to the ground and his mouth pressed into a white line, though his ears tinge red. They'll have to pardon him; he's having a Catholic reaction. "The gun works," he mutters gruffly, rubbing long fingers through his hair, though there really isn't much of it to rub. He shoots Alexander a look of annoyance exactly like the ones he given the older man before, though he fails to meet his gaze this time. His brain tells him to change the subject. He stops his mouth before mentioning the weather. "Tea would work better," he says instead, leveling Abby a stare that's equal parts sheepish, irritated, tired, and wryly amused.

"Well, ah'm gonna go to bed, too," Alex says, a touch too brightly.

"And maybe I should head back to my hovel. I think I just really really stuck my foot in my mouth" The scarf is re-wrapped tighter around Abby's neck and lower face. "I'll uh.. see you both tomorrow I guess. Leave a note with what's needed food wise or drink wise, i'll see about filling it"

Awkward? Only slightly. Teodoro's first instinct is to stop them both, apologize for— something. Being— that. Or not that. Or— this is either one of the drawbacks to only half-comprehending one's faith, he thinks, or merely of being part of a word that can not be comprehensively explained or fully and morally evaluated in one book, even if it is a really long one. "Okay," he says, finally, looking between them the way a dog on the porch peers through the closing door. "Buonanotte. Talk to you guys tomorrow, eh?"

October 27th: Being Different

Previously in this storyline…

Next in this storyline…

October 27th: I'm Here to Protect You
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