Unmistakable Identity


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Scene Title Unmistakable Identity
Synopsis Peter and his new partner take some time to get aquainted, and run into an unfamiliar face.
Date October 2, 2008 (Evening)


The pulsing beat of bass throbs through the walls of Rapture, a high-class nightclub in the heart of Harlem. Rows of expensive cars line up out front of the exclusive club and a crowd of would-be patrons wait outside, cherry-picked by the bouncers to have only the cream of the crop on the interior, while leaving just enough eye-candy outside to entice other patrons. The club serves as a respite for the trendy and the influential from the grind of daily life.

On the inside, Rapture is as much a spectacle as it is a structure. Multiple dance floors in tiered balconies overlooking an enormous central dance floor ringed by plush leather-upholstered booths. Pale blue light shines on the wrap-around bar that curved around the back of the establishment, and the entire building is filled floor-to-floor and shoulder-to-shoulder with the pulsing, flowing sea of people dancing to the rythmic beats of electronic dance music piped through the expansive sound-system.

"So then, e'says to 'er, 'why don't you chill out' an' wham, freezes 'er like a bloody icecube." Conversation carries beneath the pulsing beats and rythms of music within the walls of Rapture. Tonight hasn't been exceptionally busy, Thursdays are the deadest nights out of the week, and even the prime evening crowd is thin. "So I says to 'em, what'd ya go an' freeze her for!" The usual throngs of dancers are thinned out to a small crowd of devoted that fill up the central dance floor. Moving into the club, a pair of men in dark suits are decidedly unfamiliar faces among the weekday crowd. "An e'says t'me, it was a great line!" One is a thin and tall, wiry looking man with short cropped blonde hair and a thin smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, and his narrow black tie waggling back and forth in front of his white shirt. "Can you believe it, eh? So here's me thinkin' you're a lot more laid back than he was, right?" His voice carries a decidedly cockney accent, clearly from out of town.

"That was your last partner?" Walking at his side, dressed in a matching suit that seems more filled out, is a distinctive figure. Even if it weren't for the scar cutting across the middle of his face, the tone of his voice and his distinctive smile would give him away as Peter Petrelli, to those who know him. "Sounds like a sadistic person."

"Oh, man, you ain't got no idea, I'm tellin ya." The light-haired Brit that walks ay his side waves one hand animatedly as they come across the dance floor, headed to the VIP booths, "You's much more laid-back Mista' Petrelli, if'n I do say so m'self." Peter cracks the thin man an awkward smile, parting from him to take a seat at his booth, raising one hand to motion towards one of the waitresses for service.

The clock on the wall strikes 8:30pm, quitting time for the first shift of bouncers.

Alexander is in a suit. It fits, and well, as if tailored. He looks neither like a gorilla nor a mobster nor a poor seminary student. God only knows where he got it done, considering how poor he is - but it is de rigeur for the bouncers here. But Al's coming off shift, and thus he's taken off his tie and loosened his cuffs.

He's heading for the bar, only to stop and do a perfect double-take on spotting Peter. Ignoring the 'tender behind the bar and his accompanying outraged look as he stops in mid-order, he goes stalking for Pete, brushing his way through the crowd. His expression is a mingling of various moods, but it's sheer incredulity at the fore, at the moment. He's already reaching out a hand to touch Peter's arm, call his attention.

"Well, from what I heard he got what he deserved, right?" Peter arches one brow with a somewhat twisted smile, "I mean, he was so gung-ho to go after that hydrokineticist, it serves him right." The two share a laugh as both Peter and the blonde Brit take a seat. Then, feeling the hand on his arm, Peter looks up towards Alexander. The hairstyle is slightly different, he's wearing a suit, but all in all he seems to be exactly the same as Alex remembers him. "Uh…"

The blonde man leans forward on the table, hands folded as he keeps his eyes trained up on Alexander, but his words directed to Peter, "This bloke a friend of yours, Petey?" Peter glances over, then looks back up to Alexander, offering the man an awkward smile.

"Hey. There something I can help you with?" He looks Alexander up and down, the way one would assess a stranger. From around behind Alex, one of the server girls comes over, leaning an arm on Alex's shoulder as she nods to Peter and his company. "Two Gin and Tonics," Peter says to her, almost dismissive of Alex before he shoots the bouncer a look again, an expectant one.

"Peter Petrelli, right?" Alex says, suddenly caught off guard. This isn't a trick, is it, or a joke? He searches the man's scarred face, as if looking for any sign of recognition.

"Pete, you want me to tell this — " Peter motions towards the anxious blonde man with one hand, shaking his head slightly before looking back up to Alexander.

"Yeah, sorry, do I know you?" One brow raises slowly, "I'm kind've busy right now, but…" He narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side for a moment, looking at Alexander as if in recognition of his features. For a moment, just a moment, it looks like Peter might realize who he is. "Are you…" The words hang on his tongue, "You were a friend of Simone's, right? Bradley Miller?" Peter leans in, looking up at Alexander in a remarkable of mistaken identity, wagging one finger at the man, "Stock broker?"

Alexander's smile is best described as sickly, considering. "Not…exactly," he says, throat working. ""And no, I didn't know Simone, though you described her to me many a time. I see you're busy, so I'll leave you be. But do give me a call, when you have a chance," He pulls a card from within his suitjacket. It's not a business card, per se. No description of what he does, after all. But it does have his name and cellphone number on it.

Peter arches a brow as he watches Alexander, reaching out to take the card with one hand. "Do I…" He looks down at the card, Jesse Alexander Knight, then looks back up with his head cocked to the side. "Do I know you? I mean — Did I? Before…" A hand reaches out across the table, taking Peter's arm and giving it a bit of a squeeze. It snaps his focus from Alexander over to the blonde-haired man.

"Pete, man, focus. We was havin' a drink right?" He gives Petr a long, lingering stare, and then Peter just affords the man a crooked smile, nodding weakly. "Aye, pal, piss off for a bit eh? We only get so many bloody hours of down time." He wrinkles his nose and nods over to Alex, then leans back in his seat, letting go of Peter's arm.

The man's comment draws a glare from Peter, "Woods, relax." His eyes flit back up to Alexander, then down to the card, then back up again. "Yeah, yeah I'll… I'll give you a call sometime." His head cants to the side again, brow tensing as he gently skims the surface of Alexander's thoughts, looking for anything out of place.

Out of place? His brain is currently full of thoughts scurrying madly in no particular direction, like frightened mice in a jar. Is….is he faking it for this goon? Where's he been? Does he actually know who I am? Woods? The Brit gets an icy glance from Alexander. Did the Company brainscrape him somehow? I've got to tell Helena….we're fucked. So fucked. "You know me," he says, with a calm he really doesn't feel. "It'll come to you, in time."

Watching Alexander closely, Peter gives the man a slow nod, then shifts his focus back to Agent Woods. He looks at the blonde, briefly, then focuses back up to Alexander with a painted smile. "Yeah, yeah I'm sure it will. Have a good night, man…" A thoughtful, if not somewhat puzzled look crosses Peter's face as he turns to look down at the top of the table.

"So anyway — " Woods jumps in quickly, folding his hands on the table again and leaning forward anxiously, "That was jus' partner number one, right?' He raises both of his brows, cracking a crooked smile. "Lemmie tell you about James Loius Terrier, that man was an absolute fuck of a person." He breaks out into an awkward laugh, slapping one hand down on the table. Peter can only half pay attention to Wood's story, now somewhat perplexed by what he heard in Alexander's thoughts…

Alexander withdraws, as smoothly as he can. At least it's not at a panicked run. HE even schools his features into something like the tired hauteur you'd expect from a bouncer working here…..but he's left his drink at the bar, nonetheless, in his hurry to get out of there.

October 2nd: Favors
October 2nd: Keeping The Faith
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