Participants:
| Scene Title | The Survivor |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Agent Verse makes it out of the plane crash, but how? |
| Date | March 18, 2009 |
Just outside of Foxton, Ohio
Hasty breathing wheezes in and out of exhausted lungs. Aching legs plod up a muddy slope, nicked and cut hands grasping at exposed roots as a man feverishly runs away from the direction of a burning, orange glow on the horizon.
Climbing up the hill, he braces himself against an oak tree, fingers curling against the bark, shoulders and chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. Turning slowly, dark eyes stare out over a field of wreckage and debris, and the almost tombstone-like monolith of a plane’s ring rising up out of the ground to commemorate the event.
Blood wets the dark surface of a long, black coat, and those bleeding hands move shakily to an interior pocket, retrieving a cell phone with a cracked screen from within. The phone still lights up, still works, despite the LCD being cracked, and shaky fingers hastily press the first speed-dial button.
Still panting like a frightened animal, he tucks his dark silhouette closer to the tree, watching a flicker of blue-green light down in the plane wreckage; the light of lasers igniting. “Hello?” The response comes hastily the moment he hears someone pick up. “This — this is agent Stephen Verse – “ His breath escapes him in shuddering exhalations, adrenaline causing his body to tremble.
“I – there’s been an accident – I – My identification code is bravo, three, three, six seven, eight, six, dash, zero.” The repetition of the numbers helps give him focus, eyes unblinkingly watching billowing black shadows begin to fill the wreckage of the plane. “I need to – put assistant director helms on immediately.”
During the changeover, Verse slouches down along the tree, his muscles beginning to ache and stomach churning as he stares out at the field of flames and death. “I – Helms? It’s Verse, the – he killed them all – everyone.” The words come out spluttering and terrified, “Sylar! He – he woke up during transport, the plane’s crashed we – I – I don’t know where I am. Everyone’s dead, Carmichael’s dead – “
The obvious question that comes over the phone makes Verse wrench his eyes shut, “No I – I can see him right now. He – Sylar’s alive.” The words are sung like some dirge that would signal the coming of the end times. “I need immediate assistance, I – just get me the hell out of here…” Verse’s head leans back to thump against the tree trunk behind him, a dry and tight swallow sounding ragged over the phone.
“Just – send someone – send everyone.”
Six Hours Later
Wright-Patterson Air-Force Base, Ohio
”…and then, once I was in the forward cabin, I heard gunshots. Carmichael’s men immediately responded and – “ Verse’s shoulders tense as he leans back against the chair he’s seated in. “I went up to talk to the pilots and get away from the firefight, that’s when a stray bullet came through one of the interior walls and struck me in the shoulder.”
On the other side of the table in the debriefing room, a stern-faced blonde woman stands with her arms folded, back towards the two-way mirror behind her. “And then the next thing you recall was the pilot radioing that they were going down?” Her head tilts to the side, a lock of hair unfurling from behind an ear at the gesture.
Verse nods slowly, bringing his hands up to rub across his face. “Yeah… I – I think I blacked out. When I came to, we’d already crashed, and…” Trailing off, Verse’s dark eyes settle on the glass of water in front of him, only half emptied. “When I woke up, I could hear people screaming further away but – “ His eyes close, “I just ran. I ran until I was out of sight, and called in for assistance and evacuation.”
The blonde woman across from him looks more than put off, her arms folded across her chest and lips downturned into a vicious frown. She stares for a long time at Agent Verse, before sharply cutting her words across him, “So you let Sylar get away?”
“Wh – I barely got away with my own life, don’t you dare try to lay the blame for this on me!” Verse rises up out of his chair, wincing when he strains his arm that rests against himself in a sling. “Why weren’t we supplied with the necessary negation drugs? Where was the miracle suppression agent!?”
“Calm down Agent Verse,” Agent Hanson says flatly, her plastic identification vadge wavering where it’s buttoned to her lapel. “I’m just stating the facts, and the fact of the matter is you watched while the singular most dangerous Evolved on the planet disappeared into rural Ohio.”
Pacing in a circle, agent Verse looks to the mirror for a long, pointed moment before focusing back on Audrey. “Fine, whatever – you have my statement, so either take my badge or let me out of here, I have assignments to finish.”
Agent Hanson shakes her head and rakes the fingers of one hand through her hair, “No we’re – we’re done here. But agent Verse, we may come up with more questions for you, I presume you’re returning to your assignment at the prison?”
All he affords her is a slow, solemn nod before reaching for his jacket slung over the back of the chair he was seated in. Swinging it around his shoulders, Verse refrains from putting his arms through the sleeves. Pausing to look at Agent Hanson as she seems to be staring, Stephen’s slow raise of one brow is question enough of — what the hell are you looking at?
“I – nothing, you’re free to go, but the site physicians want to check out your shoulder again to make sure they got all of the bullet fragments out.” Stephen’s curt and wordless nod as he goes to the door is answer enough, and the agent disappears out into the hall without so much as a goodbye.
Audrey sighs deeply, turning to the mirror with a helpless shrug, “What’s your assessment?”
«I feel…» A voice crackling over a loudspeaker is distorted and hard to discern the gender of, «…he was telling the truth, but lying by omission. Something feels off, but I cannot discern what. Keep him watched.»
Giving a nod of her head, Agent Hanson looks away from the mirrors and towards the door to the debriefing room. “Sylar,” she breathes out with a scowl, “God damnit.”
 March 18th: Made Broken |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 March 18th: For Want Of Ruby Slippers |