Participants:
| Scene Title | Try Not To Think |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Despite that Gabriel was the one under arrest, it's Audrey who finds herself in cuffs and asked difficult questions. |
| Date | April 15, 2010 |
Staten Island: River House
There is plenty to be uncomfortable about. The hard floor beneath her and the worn carpet thinly stretched over it, the chill metal bracelet clamped relentlessly around Audrey's right wrist, strung to what she's figured out by touch to be a radiator that does not work, nor does it have any particular weak points. Walls were once papered over, flaking now with age and neglect. In her immediate vicinity, there is only wall, the radiator, and the floor that is unnervingly damp in places, and two luxury items: a bucket and a blanket.
What she could see doesn't matter. She can't see.
She can hear the sound of water outside as it trickles through the icy, snowbank shores of a river just outside, absolutely zero traffic, the sound of birds and wind rustling trees. It's hard to say what time it is, save for that it's not as cold as it was some several hours ago. Which might imply morning, as do the loudness of the birds, a window somewhere ahead of her.
Thirsty, and hungry. There is no sound, until the muffled thump of something sounds at the edges of her hearing, and something bumps into her knee, the sloshing sound of liquid following. A water bottle has skittered and rolled across the floor, and into her. Which would also imply, she's no longer alone.
If she was ever alone.
Why he didn't just kill her, she doesn't know. Being chained to a radiator, starving, thirsty, cold and cranky were all things she could cope with, deal with. It was the blindness that was throwing her off. Take away a persons sense, just one, and it can really hurt them in ways that actual weapons can't do.
She'd tried the usual when she'd first been handcuffed. work her wrist yank on the radiator, hands and fingers feeling their way to where it connected to the floor and try to use her feet and free hand to pull. All that ended up doing as giving her a wet sensation at her wrist that had stung and working up a sweat. She wasn't getting away from here or from Sylar.
The brunette agent flinches when the water bottle bumps against her foot and causes her to jerk her face from side to side, head canted at an angle as if that might help her hear better, visualize where Sylar might be. Fingers tighten into balled fists which she then forces to relax, give the appearance of calm despite that her heart has started hammering in her chest.
"We thought going for your clone might lure you out. Didn't realize it'd do that within two seconds of trying to arrest you"
The floorboards creak in ways they never did before the water bottle. Maybe he teleports, or flies too. Either way, Gabriel is obviously in the room now as he settles, coming to sit down in front of her. Probably out of range, should she try to check. His has his arms looped around his knees, angling one foot against the other so that the injury hidden in winter boots doesn't touch the ground. Brings a hand up, scratches fingertips through the slight beard he's beginning to develop down his jaw and throat.
"You should drink that. I wouldn't worry about it being poisoned, if I were you." He stretches his legs out, the sound of a knee popping with the movement and the shuffle of clothing. His words are on the back of a sigh as he adds, "I like cake. And good manners. Are you trying to arrest me or was there something you wanted, Agent Hanson?"
"No, you'd have killed me right away, death by exsanguination, top of my head popped off like Anthony Hopkins only I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be feeding me my frontal lobe with some garlic butter and shallots. Though, if one goes by Jennifer childs remains, the real Jennifer Childs, you do favor the eaten by pigs portion"
Down comes her hand, patting around the floor by her feet for the bottle of water. "I want your head on a platter, standing trial for all the murders you've committed Sylar and the people you've stolen abilities from. You can't tell me that in the years I've been hunting you, you haven't figured that out. Or course I was coming to arrest you. One of you at least" Fingers brush against plastic and she gets a firm hold on it, lifting the bottle, righting it. "I'll be sure that when I get my hands on you and the handcuffs are on you, there will be cake. Streamers, a live band and lots of celebrating that the midtown man is going to stand for his crimes"
One hand cuffed is awkward, but she gets the bottle open so that she can let a trickle of water wet her lips soon followed by a few mouthfuls "I guess i'll be adding kidnapping a federal agent, possibly killing one to your list of crimes"
"Try 'murder of a federal agent' on for size. I'll even let Parkman find you. They are, you know. Trying to look for you. But we have all the time in the world down here, Hanson, you and me."
There's the sound of another cap twisting off, swallowing around water, then the obnoxious sound of it sloshing back and forth, repeatedly, in some lazy fidgeting motion that she can only hear rather than see. "I want to know how you found out about the clones," Gabriel states, plainly, as if setting up the instruction for a game. "Who told you, where you got that intel, everything. There's an easy way I can do it, but I figured I'd give you the opportunity to come clean all by yourself."
There's a snort from the retrained brunette. "As if I'd willingly tell you. Next thing you know, they'll be showing up on my doorstep wrapped in a bow Sylar" She nearly snarls at the man, looking towards the sound of water and his voice but gaze never quite landing on him. "I don't need to come clean about old fashioned detective work. I keep track of your abilities, I follow your corpses. I'm making sure that the sins of your father aren't laid at your feet and instead just at his." The cap is screwed back onto her waterbottle, laid between her feet and ready to grab if she needs to fling it.
There's static silence as Gabriel stares across at her, and then, the creaking down of joints and floorboards as he goes to stand up. "You know me. You know my M.O. I kill for Evolved abilities, and you don't have one. The only thing I want from you is answers, and I don't have to saw that out of your skull. Cooperate and I'll release you back into the wild so you can chase geese for another four years. Give me nothing, threaten me, then I think you and I both know that me letting you go is going to be out of the question."
A beat, then, "Start with the sins of my father part, and we'll work from there."
"Samson Gray, your father. Same ability. He's been running around killing evolveds and taking their brains. Keeps them and takes their abilities. You met him in the Hunter condo. He was the smoke you went chasing after before you killed the cop. They wanted to pin this all on you but I managed to clear your name of it." How kind of her right? To make sure that a handful more deaths weren't added to his long list of ones he had and hadn't done.
"Like father like son. Save we can't track him down either. How do you track a guy who can go incorporeal and has danger sense" There's another snort and sneer from the agent, looking away from him and someplace else. She shifts and shuffles in spot trying to get comfortable. It's hard to be comfortable when you're in a vest and all the clothing etc etc etc.
When he does talk again, his voice has shifted — further away, near the theoretical window, though there were no footsteps or even the sound of a body shifting through the air. "A few ways. I'll figure it out before you do." That taunt is delivered lowly, his back turned to her. There's a shifting sound, a crank of rusty hinges and a snap of ice. The room gets several degrees cold, all at once, as chill wind blows through the opened window. "The clones, Hanson. How did you know?"
"We'll see about that Sylar. I almost had you till you did whatever it is that you did" She'll spend days replaying the scenario in her mind to try and pinpoint down what the hell it was that he did that made a dart disappear in the air after it'd been discharged and him suddenly behind her. It'll be another aspect of the game. Who will get his father first.
The wind hits the agent and she shudders, bunching in tighter on herself and the radiator. "An anonymous tip from someone who thought we might want to know" She lies, the words slipping easily off her tongue. No embellishment to pad it out, that would only make it unbelievable.
"That's a real shame." Gabriel's voice sounds like gravel and silk at the same time. "Because there are only a handful of people in the world who have any idea about the clones. It's one of my better kept secrets, the kinds I only share with friends. There's Gillian," and there's a squeaking sound, the kind someone makes when drawing on a steamed window. He's drawing marks, as if ticking people off. "Some of those sweet little children at the Lighthouse. Peter Petrelli. A couple of my closest friends."
A pause as he glances back at her. "Got any ideas, Hanson? Or should I go through them, one by one, to see who tattled? It won't take me very long — you're not dealing in common knowledge, here."
"Anonymous tip. I didn't take the call, a flunkie did. Sorry to disappoint you Sylar. You'll have to fact check your best friends list it seems" Audrey snaps back to the serial killer by the window. No flinching or any real telltale at the names rattled off. She strains to discern sounds, background noise beyond the water and what's in the room or him breathing, little details if possible.
The only details she gets back are the ones she's been getting for the past long, long hours. Birds, rustling leaves, the snowy river, all made sharper and more vivid than before. However, at the very edges of her hearing, there's the sound of a copter cutting its blades through the air. Maybe two of them. The search is on, and Staten Island isn't as forgotten as it once was. "If you insist. My name is Gabriel, by the way. They're calling the other guy Sylar, so we should probably try not to confuse that system.
"Did they tell you that?" His voice is innocent in its inquiry, tossed over his shoulder. "That Jenny isn't the only one of me out there. Maybe I should make more. Give you guys things to do, than shoot up orphanages."
"I asked her peacefully to come. She's parked in the middle of a fucking orphanage for the last month. What the hell am I supposed to do? Everyone was using tranq's, we came at the quietest time so that there'd be less kids roaming" Sylar was a different clone. This one was Gabriel, and the one in the lighthouse was Jenny. "I don't know how many of you are there. Plan was to get her since she's the only one we knew where. From her, I could get you"
But that wasn't happening and they'd probably be finding her in a ditch somewhere. Small comfort in that at least she'd still have her brain. "Nice to know that we'll need all the frontline teams to catch you. Next time, i'll bring a negator with me. I know there's a few in the city we can hire" Or requisition. Hello, the government needs your help, just stand here, do your thing, if you die.. well..
"All the Frontline teams? Gosh, can anyone say the word buffet?" Severe sarcasm puts an edge to Gabriel's words, still all the way over at the window. "Men like me don't stand on trial, Hanson. We don't get arrested, we don't go to jail, and we don't get pardoned when we die trying to save the world."
There's the sound of a step closer — not within the reach of her hands, but no where near the sound of his voice. There's the shift of fabric, the sound of him crouching. "I'm not going to kill you," he says, carefully. "Because you're not a threat to me. Not even a little. All I want to know is who sold me out, and lucky for you, I'm not gonna bother asking again. I'm just going to take what I want.
"Excited?"
"I'm just creaming in my panties Gabriel"
She turns her face to his voice like a sunflower to the sun, eyes squinting as if that alone could bring back her sight. "I heard about your part in saving the world. Too bad I can't find out whether it's true or not. Guess i'll never know now will I?" She feints in his direction, handcuffs rattling against the radiator, body moving as far as it can which is no more than as far as her arm can reach. SHe's not trying to make a grab for him, just listening for some sort of reaction.
She gets it — a huff of a startled breath, the sound of him shuffling back, until he's abruptly silent. Even the outside noises are silent, for a moment, the air stifling still around her until sound comes back into being, a bird trilling just outside the window over the sound of the distant helicopters. All at once, Audrey's body locks up, and it's similar to the telekinesis she's experienced before — only it's inside her, propelling her own legs to lever herself back into the radiator, arm caught awkwardly where it's trapped, the other pressing itself back, drapped akimbo against the metal ridges.
"You're brave," he commends. "But brave only gets you so far. Usually, it just gets you more hurt." The back of her skull connects sharply with metal when her own neck bends back to do so, just a tap, sharp and painful. "Hold still now. This won't hurt a bit. And all you have to do is think about who told on me. Or try not to."
Then he's touching her — a fingertip to the tip of her nose. There's a strange feeling in her head, the lurch of a headache, before it's gone, and so is the touch.
Shit. Telelpathy? Psychometry? She'd rear her head back if he didn't have her frozen in spot, turned just how he wanted her and making it uncomfortable for her. Instead, she just lets out a whimper, dark hair spilling across the radiator and unseeing eye's looking somewhere as she tries to not do any of what he told her. No thinking about any of that but focusing instead on Jenny, the sight of the woman as she stared down the barrel of her gun and the girl asking that she just be left alone. Hone in on the color of the girls hair, her weapons, the way she held her body and had defended herself against Spalding. Thinking about that, and hoping, hoping, that whatever he's doing, wont' succeed.
When her muscles suddenly loosen, it's all at once. The tension drains away like water from a broken cup, slowly regaining back the use of her limbs. Cold wind continues to blow through the window, and there's no sound within the room apart from her own breathing, her own heartbeat and the scrape of the handcuff. She's alone again, without answers as to whether Gabriel got what he was looking for from that mysterious touch, where exactly he went, and in the company of birds both feathered and metal.
And of course, she still can't see.