eve_icon.gif gillian_icon.gif kent_icon.gif peter3_icon.gif

Also Featuring


Scene Title …Worse
Synopsis A bad idea proves to be even worse than imagined. But hey, everyone had good intentions, if crazy ones.
Date January 13, 2009

Homeland Security Holding Facility

The tick of an analog clock high on the wall of the cell is the only sound to pass the time. Not that Homeland Security hasn't offered a small consolation of a radio, but there's no desire of the prisoner here to have any contact with the outside world, no desire what so ever to see anyone, to touch anything, to be anywhere but here; even in imagination alone.

The cell is a sobering place, color drained from battleship gray walls by fluorescent lights that flicker at headache inducing frequency overhead. Mortared cinder-block walls, a smooth whitewashed concrete floor, and a mirrored picture window of reinforced glass casting a dimmed reflection of the man seated on the edge of the wall-mounted cot. An image of Peter Petrelli.




At least he did accept the tennis ball. It's a stacatto rythm of beats as the ball is bounced to the floor, hits off of the wall, and bounces back to Peter's hand. Dressed in a gray prison uniform, with his longish hair unkept and hanging down in his face, he truly looks like someone else. Only that scar on his face gives him away, the visible proof of his guilt.

This is his world, a solemn, private place where he can do no harm. A place where the world can pass him by, and he can stop himself from breaking apart everything he touches. Nothing can get to him in here, nothing can endanger this sanctum.

Not until today.

It occurs without ceremony, as it always does. Peter blinks, and suddenly three more people are in the same room.

The idea of leaping through space into a room he doesn't even know is absolutely terrifying to Kent, who imagines slicing himself through a wall or a person and what a grotesque spectacle that would be. So it takes a little courage gathering. But they appear, a disruption in the relative peace of the cell - no sound, no nothing, just the slight sound of air being pushed aside and then all the noise three people bring with them.

Not a few feet from Peter, Kent, Gillian and Eve all materialise into reality in the blink of an eye, as if they'd been roughly edited in with FinalCut Pro. Kent swears harshly under his breath once they appear, hands locked with both Eve's and Gillian's, dressed in his mismatched practical attire, a red scarf a splash of colour. All three bring a little of the winter coldness into the room, a subtle difference. Paler than usual from anxiety, he lets go of Eve and Gillian's hands, clenching them once freed and casting a wide-eyed stare behind his glasses about the place, then a warier one to Peter. "H-hi," he says, almost too quietly to hear.

Opening her eyes after the teleportation is done, Eve Mas looks around and her gaze centers on Peter, she does indeed notice how the man has changed. The man she calls a friend, comrade in the fight for the Evolved. "Peter.. it's been a while. Doing something different with your hair?" Eve jokes lightly and falls silent waiting for Peter's reaction to their appearance. She doesn't know /how/ he will react. "Surprise?" she offers with a raised eyebrow. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and while she is clean, she is still wearing the tank top and jeans from the night before.

There was also a faint glow in the air when they appeared. Purple, like the bulb of a blacklight. It extends between two of their hands, the young woman augmentor who last saw him right before his other self got shot in the head, and the man in the glasses who looks winded. The glow vanishes once they're there, the knot tied off in the back of her head, energy conserved for the necessary escape to follow— cause she really doesn't want to stay here, either. Gillian also looks pale, perhaps from the chill, or from the energy drain— Her eyes are wide— they actually, "Fuck it worked." She's the one who said they could totally do it, wasn't she? Yeah… Wow. "You look like shit."

he tennis ball bounces off of the wall, striking Gillian in the backside on the rebound, then hits the floor with a few muffled thumps before rolling under one of the two chairs angled in the corner. Peter lets out a hissed breath, climbing up onto his cot enough to crouch there like some startled animal. One hand presses against the concrete wall, and his brows tense together in a manner that creases the scar that cuts diagonally across his face. He's bewildered at first, until sense of space and facial recognition begins to click for Eve and Gillian — Kent not so much.

"What— " His breath comes out as a ragged, hoarse whisper laced with anger. "Are you out of your minds!?"

Peter hops down off of the cot, motioning wildly towards Gillian and Eve, "Are you dumb, are you seriously this dumb?" He looks up, above them and beyond them to the corner near the steel door that leads into his cell. Then motions with his hands around to the other corners, "This room is monitored by four closed-circuit cameras. Security has me under twenty-four hour surveilence!" Peter strains, mouth hanging open, looking awestruck at the lack of foresight here.

"Security is probably already on their way, and they have a negator." One hand motions to the door, even as he flicks his gaze to Kent. "Get them out of here, all of you get out of here, now!"

Oh jesus. Kent cringes at the sudden outburst from the man who apparently blew up New York, taking a few steps back as if anticipating such an attack. Yeah, he's scared, and this isn't helping. It only really then occurs to him that 'high security facility' might, you know, have defenses against people like him— and negator certainly doesn't sound any good. He glances up towards the corners as Peter gestures, and fairly has to brace himself to not just leap back at Eve and Gillian and get them out of there as instructed, but— damnit. If there are cameras, it's too late as far as identification goes.

"Then we're sort of fucked already. Make this short, guys," Kent says, quietly, looking at Peter with an expression of apology.

It was the reaction that Eve was preparing herself for. "Yeah Peter, I know but there wasn't /any/ other way." Eve looks around the cell and nods her head. "Look Gillian here supercharged me and I had a vision, a few actually but the most important is.. Peter, Nathan gets shot in the future. We had to warn you, he is after all your brother." Eve says to Peter and she looks at the door to the cell. She knows they have limited time. "I know you are in here for a damn good reason, if this is where you want to be then.. I respect that Peter. But I couldn't let the vision go, had to let you know." Eve waits for Peter to respond and she looks at him with worry in her eyes.

Right. Cameras. Gillian reaches up and rubs her forehead a little bit, obviously having been too rash to think of that. Not to mention the whole… um… Eve just used her name. Good thing she's currently missing and living off of cash. "You're as much an idiot as we are, but at least we're trying to do something besides sit on our asses and wish the world away. She wanted to tell you and here we are. Now you know." And with that it sounds like she's ready to leave, because she holds her hand out toward Kent again. The ability is kept closed off— for the moment. As long as she can still feel the knot, the negator isn't here yet. "And you didn't send him to Antarctica."

Mouth still agape, Peter narrows his eyes into a squint and leans forward as if trying to ascertain whether Eve is a figment of imagination, or if someone can possibly have this many bad ideas in one lifetime. "Nathan is going to get shot? Good." He snarls, angrily, "He deserves every bullet he can get. The last time I saw him I was trying to choke the life out of him myself, so whoever does it is doing this world a favor." There's bitterness there, but as Peter turns away, his expression softens some and he comes to think about the sincerity of his words.

"Nathan's…" Then the absurdity of the situation levels on his shoulders, and whatever softness was creeping into his expression fades away. "You came here, you broke into a Homeland Security Facility to tell me this? Did you already try to warn Nathan? Did you talk to Claire?" He squints again, looking to Gillian, "Damnit, I thought you were smarter than th— " Her response makes him steps away from the three, pacing in a circle before making his way back to Gillian, pointing at her angrily, "You're the one who told me to come out and own up for my crimes! You're the one who told me to tell the whole world what I did, to rot in a jail cell! Those were your words!" He's furious, now, "I — They aren't telling anyone, but I'm still paying for what I did. This is where I belong! You said so yourself!" Not a word about Antarctica, perhaps because Peter is interrupted…

A small white box on the upper wall near the door begins to emit a repeating klaxon, followed by a loud and flat tone, and then an automated voice calls out in angrogynous tone. "Security breach. Holding Cell Zero One Seven Seven Eight Nine Six. Emergency response unit dispatch." The voice repeats over and over, "Security breach. Holding Cell Zero One Seven Seven Eight Nine Six. Emergency response unit dispatch."

Kent glances at Gillian's hand, but there's no customary glow from anyone's presence, so he slips his hand back into her's, and reaches for Eve's elbow. He'll wait for that surge of energy from Gillian - he couldn't teleport himself anywhere without her help, considering how frazzled his nerves are - and just watches Peter with unfamiliarity and wariness. It's the sudden announcement that makes him reach out and grip Eve's arm as well. "Lets do what the jailbird says," he hisses, looking at Gillian, waiting for that cue. Easier that then defending her honour against a guy who can go nuclear, with security bearing down on them. He has no idea who Claire is, and the idea of talking to the guy who could have been President seemed more ludicrous than breaking into jail considering his own power, but— all things considered, well, hindsight 20-20.

"/I/ thought you wanted to /know/. Don't be such a fucking asshole about it Peter. I haven't seen Claire in.. god knows how long." Eve sighs. "Guys we need to go." And that's when she hears the alarm starting to go off. "One more thing! I saw a forest city! I don't know why or what it is but.. if you see anything like that as we-" Eve stops because it doesn't matter if Peter ever dreams of anything pertaining to that. Until he leaves the cell he is in, Eve won't know. "Nice seeing you! Or.. see you soon!" Eve says and stands back with Kent looking at Peter and then at the door.

"If that's all that you heard, then you didn't really listen to a fucking thing I said. This isn't taking fucking responsibility. It's hiding when you could be doing something about it," Gillian growls at him, the anger only increased as the sounds over the com. Fuck. Fuck. "Now. Out," she says, closing her eyes and sending the biggest surge she can manage into Kent. She was already trying to maintain her freedom by avoiding the feds, so this is nothing knew, but now she's possibly doomed her Taxi Cab and a poor psychic girl.

Peter doesn't try to give her a response, he just moves over to the cot again, crouching down on it bfore drawing his knees up to his chest, straightening one leg to hang over the edge of the narrow bed, letting one arm lazily drape over his raised knee. His brown eyes, tired and lost, drift up to focus where the three once stood, then lets his head thump back against the wall with a long and quiet sigh.

The door bursts open, men in black riot gear charging in, followed by a tall and thin man with gaunt cheekbones and a bald head. He narrows his eyes as he peers around the cell, watching the prison security move in and yank Peter off of his cot, throwing him to the ground while one officer kneels on the middle of his back, another reaching down to zip tie his hands together. "Nnh! I didn't do anything! They came on their own!"

The tall, thin and bald man scowls stoicly, a cell phone pressed to his ear. "Yes, they're gone. No, Petrelli did not leave with them." His eyes sweep towards the downed Peter, "Yes, I think that will be recommended, given the looseness of security here."

"Get off me! Get off of me I didn't do anything!" Peter thrashes in place, struggling under the weight of the black-clad guards, and one quickly removes his baton from his belt, whacking Peter in the ribs with it as hard as he can, causing the man to jerk where he's pinneed in place. "I didn't do anything!"

"Of course, Sir." The bald Agent walks thorugh the room, pausing as he stares down at Peter, pressing his lips into a thin, disapproving line. "I'll sign the paperwork immediately, and he'll be shipped off to Colorado before transport to Moab by week's end."

"Affirmative sir. No one will get to him again."

January 13th: From Bad To...
January 13th: To Abide In
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License