"Rise of Legends" Heroes RPG Vol.1 IC Thread 2.0

"Robertson, we sit in the desk, not on it," I remind my student over the roar of the classroom. I make my way to my desk and put my papers down. As I turn around, I see a paper airplane making its premiere flight towards the blackboard. Acting quickly, I snatch the crude model by its fuselage - halting its progression. As I crumple it up, I announce, "Ok, let's get settled. The next 45 minutes are my time."

Sure enough, the noise level of the room dulls to a point where I can hear myself thinking again. I'd like to think that my students respect me, and that's why they respond so pertinently to my orders. I try to be relaxed without being too informal.

As I lean against my desk, I begin to speak again. "Today, we will be talking about the attack on Pearl Harbor."



"Who can tell me the date of this attack?" I ask rhetorically. "Angelina?"

"December 7, 1941."

I nod and smile. "Very good. And who was the President of the United States at that time? Cliff?"

"Franklin Delano Roosevelt?"

"You got it," I respond. "And they say kids these days are uneducated..."

There are some chuckles as I pick up the VCR remote. "I have a video to show for you. It shouldn't take the whole period, and it outlines the causes for Pearl Harbor pretty well. So pay attention."

As I flick the switch, I make my way to the back of the room - where there are available desks. Settling into one, I press 'PLAY' and let the video roll. For some reason, with the lights out and everything, I begin to feel a little drowsy. But I know that I got plenty of sleep, so it doesn't make sense. Nonetheless, I allow myself to close my eyes...just for a moment.

***

When I open them, I'm standing in front of the door to the Oval Office of the White House. The place is abuzz with activity. I try to tell myself that it's a dream, but no dreams of mine have ever been this real. I feel like I'm actually there.

"Excuse me," I call out to a man who's passing. He doesn't seem to notice me. Thinking nothing of it, I try again with the next person.

"Excuse me."

No response. Now, I'm starting to get distressed. When the third person passes, I attempt to grab their shoulder. But much to my dismay, I am unable to make physical contact. The person walks right through my hand...like I'm a ghost.

"What happened?" I hear someone behind me ask. I turn to see that two men are conversing.

"You didn't hear? Pearl Harbor was attacked," the second man responds.

Pearl Harbor?

That's when I start to really look at my surroundings. I start to notice that the people around me are dressed rather...oddly - at least, by modern standards. I can tell that I'm in the White House, but there's a whole different feel to it.

"Oh my God...December 7, 1941."

Immediately after my epiphany, I turn to see FDR walking down the hall. I'm looking at the 32nd President of the United States. His expression mirrors mine - although I now know that his is due to the grave news he has received.

***

"Mr. B? Mr. B, wake up!"

I open my eyes to see a collection of students huddled around me. "Huh?"

"You were asleep, and we couldn't wake you up," my student Brian explains. "Your eyes were open...but they had these strange cataracts over them."

I sit up straight in my seat as I process this information.

"I was just having a strange dream...that's all..."
​

 

My name is Noah Bennet. I am an agent for The Company.

I used to love my job. I thought I was doing something good, something important, something that will make the world a better place to live in.

Then my boss told me that they wanted to bring Claire in. I saw what they did to Elle. Hell, I even helped. When I thought of what they would do to my daughter, my eyes were ripped open and I saw The Company for what they really are. I left as soon as I got the chance.

I wanted to bring The Company down. I wanted to expose them for what they really are. But I was betrayed and I was killed for my troubles.

For those wondering: no, I did not see any bright lights or pearly gates. One second I was staring at Mohinder holding a humongeous gun to my face, the next I was staring at the werehouse the Company calls the hospital with my daughter's healing blood pumping into me.

They made me a deal. No, not a deal, that says I got something I wanted from them. I was given an ultimatum: go back into the fold, tell my daughter to stop her from revealing her powers to the world, or the Company would force her themselves. When I saw my family for the last time, I wanted to tell them how much I truely loved them, but, to be honest, I just wanted to get the hell out of there--I've made a deal with the devil, and I knew it.

A few days after I got back, I was summoned into Bob's office.

"Nathan Petrelli's going to talk. He's preparing a confrence. I've made all the arrangements. You know what to do, right?"

"Yeah," I turn to walk out the door when I heard Bob speak again.

"Don't look so glum, Noah. If you hadn't joined, I would be doing the same to your daughter." I turn back to him.

"Don't mistake my compliance for obedience, Bob. I'm about to kill my daughter's biological father for doing the same thing that we all were about to do, how the hell do you expect me to act?"

I start to shut the door, open it up and look back at Bob.

"By the way, if you ever even subtlely threaten my daughter again, I will kill you. Like I said before your broken-nosed Native shot me in the face: I kill you, the Company dies with you, and my troubles are over. Just FYI."

The Company lets me use their jet to take me to the confrence. They must be scared as all hell. From what I can tell, no attempts to contact or negotiate with him. They probably think a former Congressman, even a disgraced one, has more credibility then Claire, so they're hauling ass before they do something.

I walk into the confrence room and case out the room. The room is packed with reporters firmly paying attention to what's in front of them. The confrence hasn't started yet--that's odd. I've done hits like this before, and they're usually chatting to each other before it begins. I realize why when they step onto stage.

Nathan Petrelli steps onto stage, alongside his brother Peter and Matt Parkman. That explains why--he must have gotten more to Maury's level of power. This could complicate things--the reporters won't be able to see me, but the other two will be able to see me amonst the chaos since they will still be recovering from his grip. I'll have to make my escape fast. Nathan starts talking.

"Good afternoon. Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Nathan Petrelli and I was elected to congress in the state of New York. Seems like a long time ago. I lost my position, I lost my brother, and I lost my family. I'm sad to say that I lost my way."

I take my gun from my holster with a lot more effort then usual. Parkman's power must be getting to me, too, or it's just his words. I can relate.

But while I was gone I've had the chance to see the world through newly humbled eyes, witnessed amazing things, seen ordinary people among us trying their best each day to be heroes. These ordinary people, like you, like me, are capable of extraordinary things. You have no idea how extraordinary. But there are other people; organizations who don't want you to know the truth. I myself kept secrets. But last year, something incredible happened to me and it changed my life. At first, I was afraid, but I'm not afraid anymore. I'm here to tell you the truth."

I lift my gun and aim towards Nathan Petrelli's head.

I'm a Company Man again.

God help me.

 

Chapter 1: Hell's Angel Part 1



New York, New York
The Company​

In the middle of a city sits the Primatech Paper building. A company that has tried to uphold the image of hard working individuals and customer service. But inside, a different type of work takes place than the packing, shipping, and production of paper. Inside is, The Company. The organization that has tried to act as the constable of superhuman affairs for years.

The leader and one of the founders, Bob Bishop, sits in his office, looking through various files and sifting through piles of paper work. A knock comes at the door, and he waves the man in.

“Hello, David.” Bob says with a sigh. “Did you need something?”

“Um, yes, Mr. Bishop.” The man says flustered. “Um…I got word that you’ve had a solo agent going around behind our backs for a few months now. Is this true?” Bob smiles, and gets up from his desk slowly.

“David, I don’t keep any secrets from my staff.” He says with a sadistic smile. “I gave you and a few other deans the memo about a new company employed agent months ago. Ever since the Haitian went missing, we needed a new…how should I put this?” Bob pauses, and holds his hand to his mouth, tapping his chin. “We needed a new in field agent who could…round up loose ends for us.”

“What kind of loose ends?” David asks curiously.

“People who used to work here, David.” Bob says with a smile. “People who know too much. People who could jeopardize this company and all we've tried to do.” The man stares at Bob in silence for a few moments. He thinks to himself the proper way to phrase his next question.

“Well…” He starts. “The Haitian could…wipe memories, right?”

“That’s correct.” Bob states calmly.

“Well, what’s this new one’s power?” He pauses. “And what’s their name for that matter?” Bob smiles halfheartedly, and walks back to his desk. He picks up a file, and walks back over to David.

“Her name is Shanti.” Bob starts.

“Like…Mohinder’s sister?” David asks.

“Not exactly.” Bob says as he hands the file to him. “Shanti’s a…hired hand.” David stares at Bob with a look of frustration.

“Don’t tell me you hired a mercenary.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Mr. Light.” Bob says sternly. “It’s not your concern who I hire around here.” David sneers, and opens the file.

“So…she has clairvoyance?” He says as he glances at one of the pages. “I thought we already had someone who could use that for us.”

“Yes. Molly Walker. But, you see, Shanti’s…different.”

“How so?”

“Shanti’s power is far more advanced than Molly’s. And she claims she has a type of…omniscience. But, so far, no tests prove that to be truthful.”

“So you hired a mercenary…who already lied to you? Is that it?”


“I thought I told you who I hire or trust is not your concern.” Bob says as he keeps his anger in check.

“Well, I remember you finding the Haitian and trusting him. He’s deserted us twice.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Shanti, Mr. Light.” Bob turns, and walks back to his desk. He pulls out the chair, and sits down at his desk, returning to his paperwork. David continues to look over the paper work, reading intently and quietly. After a few moments, he closes the file, and walks over to Bob at his desk. He drops the file on the table, and folds his arms over his chest.

“Do you at least have some…back up method? Something to keep her from deserting us?”

“As a matter a fact, I do.” Bob smiles. “We’ve been tracking her for a while. Watching her dealings, and what cases she has taken up.”

“And?”

“It appears Shanti has an interest in people with abilities. She’s been looking for a select few. Some we have been keeping track of, some we haven’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“I approached her a few months ago. Told her I could help her in her search.”

“And she accepted?”

”Well, of course. I still have to keep her on a salary around here.” Bob picks up a metal stapler, and grips it tightly in his hand. The stapler suddenly begins to shimmer and shine as a bright tint begins to show. In only seconds, the stapler’s color has changed to that of gold. Bob smiles, and places the stapler back on the desk. “But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Where is she now?”

“On an assignment.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Bob says sarcastically. “I’m not the one with clairvoyance. She is.” David sighs, and looks to the clock. He turns back to Bob, and lowers his arms at his side.

”What’s her assignment?”

“I told you. She’s been tracking down various…liabilities.”

“And who is this, “liability” specifically?”

“Do you remember Albert Tenman?” Bob asks in a monotone.

“Yeah, I think so. The guy could talk himself out of any situation right? Best salesman on the planet. No matter what you wanted, he could persuade you to do anything he wanted. Smooth talker.”

“Yes. Charisma.” Bob says rolling his eyes. “Well, ever since he left us with those classified files he stole and vanished, we’ve been looking for him. With his powers, he could persuade every man on earth to come tear us apart.”

“So,” David says with a smile. “She’s been assigned to find him and bring him back?”

“Oh no, Mr. Light.” Bob says with a calm and reassuring tone. “Who said anything about having him return?”

Badlands, Montana ​

A lone house stands tall on the side of a hill in the emptiness of the mountains and valleys. The sun drops below the horizon fast, and the night quickly sets in on the barren land. Inside the house, a single light stays lit. It resembles a beacon, making the house like a light in the darkness. A symbol of hope and optimism in the dismal area. But inside, a different story can be told. A story not of hope, but of pain and suffering.

Albert Tenman hides inside the closet in his room. He closes the door, and holds the handle tightly with both his hands. He closes his eyes, as tears begin to run down his face. He holds his breath, trying desperately to get control of himself. He listens quietly as he hears the sound of footsteps softly walking up the stair.

“God help me.” He whispers to himself. “They’ve found me.” Albert leans up against the door, forcing all his body weight onto it. He continues to grasp the handle tightly, and he pushes the side of his face up against the door, as he listens for the intruder.

“Come on, Al.” The figure calls out. “You knew this would happen someday.”

The figure walks into the hallway, the light from the one room illuminating her figure. The intruder is a woman. She wears tight black pants with leather boots. A metal belt wraps around her waist, various pouches dangling from it. She wears a tight black shirt with a black coat over top. Her face stays covered by a ski mask and a small pair of goggles masks her eyes. Her long brown hair flows from the mask in a ponytail. An odd symbol is stitched on her shirt and on her gloves. She carries a strange pistol in her hand, her grasp tight, but her demeanor calm. She walks down the hallway past the bedroom, and Albert hears her steps getting further and further away.

“Leave here!” Albert shouts from his hiding place. “Never return!”

The woman in the hallway stops, and turns around. She stays still for a moment as she concentrates. Suddenly, she laughs, and pulls the safety off the gun.

“Oh come on, Albert.” She says as she stealthily walks into the bedroom. “You can’t talk your way out of it this time.”

Albert stays quiet, his body still compressed forcefully against the closet door. He silently prays, tears dripping slowly from his eyes. The woman looks around the bedroom, and sees the closet door. She smiles beneath her mask, and walks up to the closet.

“You can’t hide from me, Albert.” She says softly. She holds the gun up to the middle of the door. Her finger wraps around the trigger, and she pulls violently. The gunshot resonates throughout the house as smoke billows from the barrel of the gun. The woman steps back from the door, and watches it swing open, as Albert Tenman’s body drops to the ground. The blood drips from the hole in his head, and the woman lowers the gun.

“No one can hide from me.”

​

​

​

 

Claude Rains

One Week Ago

The streets of New York bustled, the rain poured, the people mindlessly walked from day to day not really looking where they were going or who was around, hell, even if they did look they wouldn't find me. I'm Claude Rains, the invisible man, nobody sees me.

I stop in front of a telly shop, Nathan Petrelli, brother of Peter, is giving a talk. Peter is beside him. "Good lad." I think "Didn't go nuclear after all." I continue to watch as the former congressman speaks although I can't make out what he's saying I know It's something big. You know when something has that feel of 'life-changing' about it? Yeah. I could tell by the look on his face, on the faces of those around. Determination, fear, even pride.

Then sommet happened I didn't expect, nobody expected it. Nobody was ready yet it still happened. Nathan Petrelli was shot dead. In cold blood, in front of millions of people, dozens of those present. Nobody saw a thing. I'd seen it happen before, public executions with no witnesses. Only two people I know are that good.. One of them is me, the other?

"Noah." I say aloud through gritted teeth.

 

In the aftermath of tragedy, despair seeps its way in.

Dark and insidious, its purpose is to intensify your mourning and your outrage, and bind itself to every single part of your existence. Fortunately, it can be dispelled - with a healthy dose of willpower and a determined strength, you can emerge victorious from this vicious battle that you are forced to wage.

However, the result of this...is a lust for vengeance.

If your struggle with despair was as much as you could handle, then this 'opponent' will tear you limb from limb. For the most dangerous beast on this planet is mankind itself.

No matter what form they may take.

* * *​

"Is it over?"​

Molly Walker's timid, hushed words snap me free of my silent reverie. I swallow hard, and my gaze wanders across the scene. Maya blinks forlornly, tears - thankfully not of the ebony kind - streaming from her eyes. The acrid, bitter stench of charred flesh and material fills my nostrils, but I can't work up the disgust to wince. After what has occurred here today, a bad smell is a welcome substitute. I rise slowly to my feet, nodding to Molly as I gather her into my arms and hold her close to me; I want to sob for her, for the life she could have led. A girl of her age should not be witnessing brutal murder or hearing a deafening gunshot...a shiver runs down my spine as I remember the sickening feeling that settled down in my stomach when Sylar pulled that trigger.​

I lean in to Molly and kiss her gently on the forehead. "Yes. It's over. And I promise you that I'll never make you endure something like this again."​

She chokes back tears and buries her face into my shoulder. "Thank you," her muffled voice responds in relief.​

[blackout]"I am responsible for this,"[/blackout] Maya interjects, her eyes fluttering closed as she utters a hasty prayer in Spanish. [BLACKOUT]"I can never make up for what I have caused. If not for me, Gabriel would never have arrived here..."[/BLACKOUT]

"Don't blame yourself," I soothe. "Sylar is a skilled liar. You're not the only one he has deceived."

Mere words will not assuage her guilt. I know this because they never did for me. The only way to end it would be to pump a bullet into Sylar's head, and ensure that he never harms anyone again. I make an inward vow to finish him once and for all...something that would be achieved in a much swifter manner if I had the resources of the Company and a certain electrifying blonde at my side. I set Molly down next to Maya and motion for them both to stay where they are. There is no need for them to hear what I am going to say now. Striding over to Elle, I place a hand on her healthy shoulder and stare evenly into her eyes. Within is a blend of contentment and self-doubt that I suspect is only part of the inner conflict that she is experiencing. I sincerely hope that I will not see the same look in Molly's eyes, ten years from now.

"You did an amazing thing here today," I murmur, a touch of pride welling in each word. "You should feel very, very good about yourself. But Sylar is still on the loose...and someone needs to take that monster down for good."

 

Mohinder's Lab​

Elle smiles, and moves her arm. She flexes the muscles, and feels for any damages. She looks up to Mohinder, a seductive smile on her face. ​

"Yes, thank you, Mohinder. That vaccination of yours really did the trick." Elle gets up from the chair, and moves to the large windows in the room. She stares out them, her smile suddenly gone. ​

"Yes. Sylar must be stopped." Elle says with a sigh. "But due to some recent events with my father...I've decided to stay here with you." She turns from the window, the smile returning to her face. ​

"Mohinder...you have so much here. So much others would want." She walks toward him. "I'd like to stay here. With you...and Molly and Maya." She walks behind Mohinder, and she places her hands on his back. She gently carress his back, and speaks into his ear. "You're so stressed around here, what with all you do. The last thing you need is to have to worry about protection." She takes her hands off of Mohinder's back, and walks back in front of him. ​

"So, what do you say?" She asks in a soft tone. "Would you like to have me stay?"​

 

Chapter 1
Lost Souls Part 1​

​

Cemetery, Japan ​

Adam Monroe lies still in his resting place. A coffin, six feet under the earth. Pounds of dirt and rock presses down on his prison, making the coffin the perfect cell.

As he lies, he holds his arms behind his head. His face has an angry sneer, and his body is tense with rage. Adam takes a button from his shirt, and rips it off. He violently rubs it against the side of the coffin, and pulls it down so a mark is left. The mark is carved next to other marks, similar yet different. He throws the button down to the other end of the coffin, and stares at the markings on the coffin’s interior.

“Eleven days.” He says with hatred in his voice. “Eleven days I’ve been trapped here. No food…no water…no air.” He smiles an evil sneer, his teeth clenching tightly. “Thank you, Hiro. You never cease to show me how our friendship meant something.” Adam closes his eyes, and relaxes his body. Soon, he falls fast asleep, and becomes lost in the memories of his past.

Pennsylvania, Gettysburg
July 1, 1863 ​

Adam Monroe runs across the battlefield, his dirt covered uniform drenched in blood. He holds his gun high, as he runs quickly toward the Union army. Cannon’s shoot large projectiles across the battlefield. They drop to the ground, and blow off chunks of the terrain. Adam listens to the sound of pandemonium, soldier screaming in pain, the sound of rifles firing. He watches the gray smoke cover the battlefield as it hovers in a thick cloud over the fighting. Two Union soldiers watch as Adam approaches them fast. The one panics, and the other lifts his rifle beginning to take aim.

“Watch it!” He yells. “We got a rebel comin for us!”

“I see him! I see him!”

“Fire! Fire!”

The Union soldier fires his gun, the recoil sending his arm back. Adam takes the bullet in his shoulder. He yells in pain, and grips the wound. Though pain surges through his body, he continues his attack. He nears the Union side, his brothers on the other side of the battlefield watching him in awe. One man mounted on top of a horse points to Monroe with his sword, and yells out to the men around him.

“Who is that soldier?” He says as the sound of cannon’s drown out his voice.

”I think it’s Monroe, Lee!” The soldier yells. The man smiles, as he pulls up on his horse’s reigns. The horse whinnies, and he outstretches his sword.

“Come on, men!” He yells in valor. “Attack!”

The confederate army yells loudly in a battle cry, and begins to charge the Union army’s side. Adam pays no attention to his reinforcements; instead, his mind stays focused on the two men firing upon him.

“Hey! He’s not going down!”

“I shot him!” The soldier yells “He’s not dying!”

“I got him!” The man takes aim, and fires on Adam. The bullet hits Adam in the chest. He flinches in pain, and continues his charge. The two soldiers stare at him in fear.

“What do we do? He just survived two shots!” Adam runs up the hill to the soldiers. The blood soaks his uniform, and Adam winces in pain as he nears the top of the hill. The soldiers wait for him at the top, still in shock.

“What do we do?” The one screams to his friend. Adam smiles as he lunges at one of the men. He shoves the rusted bayonet into the soldier’s chest, and lodges it in his sternum.

“You die!” He shouts in rage. Adam pulls the bayonet from the soldier’s dead body. He kicks the body away as his gun is freed from the bloody carcass. He slowly approaches the other soldier, an evil smile fixed on his face.

“You should be dead!” He yells in panic. “How are you still alive!”

“I have what you don’t have!” He shouts as he thrusts the bayonet into the soldier’s throat. “I’m a god!” Adam forces the bayonet deeper into the soldier’s body, and twists it before violently jerking it back. He hold his gun proudly, as the bullets work their way out of his body. He winces again as his body heals. As he stares at the dying bodies of the soldiers, he hears the yells and shouts of his faction running to his aid. A wry look comes across his face, and he turns to see the Union soldiers preparing for the assault. Adam watches the confederates begin their onslaught upon the massive army of the Union. He sighs, and runs toward the raging battle.

“Back into the fire?” He says in a sarcastic tone. “It’s where I belong.”

 

I sit silently, stoically in the waiting room at the hospital. On the inside, I'm completely torn apart. But on the outside, I project a calm demeanor. Nathan has been shot. Someone didn't want him to talk. Someone wanted his secret to die with him.

That someone is part of the Company. And I'll be damned if I don't find them.

"Oh, Peter." I turn to see my mother. She walks over to me and takes the seat next to me. "How could this happen?" she asks through her tears.

She places her arm on me, and I snap. I get on my feet and unleash on her verbally. "You're responsible! You may not have pulled the trigger, but it's one of your friends that did - or at least ordered it to happen. You, and the other 11 men and women, are completely to blame for all these problems! The bomb, the virus, NATHAN!"

She seems unphased. "Calm down, Peter. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about! Adam may have been a bad person, but he was right about you - about ALL of you! None of you can be trusted!" I shout.

Still, my mother doesn't seem interested or shocked. "So, what will you do, Peter? Will you pick up where Adam left off - killing us all? Can you kill your own mother?"

I shake my head. "I'm not Adam. But I'll find Nathan's killer...and anyone else involved in his death. And I will make them pay."

"Listen to yourself, Peter. You know that's not--"

"Silence!" I command with Eden's power. Sure enough, my mother ceases to speak. "I'm sick of hearing your excuses and explanations. Nathan was right. It's time to stop cleaning up after your generation's mess."

Before I can begin my crusade, I have to visit Claire. If she hasn't heard, she needs to find out through me. Unfortunately, I don't know where she is.

But Molly will.
​

 

Chapter 1: Hell's Angel Part 2​

​

New York, New York
The Company​

Bob Bishop sits at his desk looking through more paper work and files. David Light reads more files for various company workers on the other end of the office. Suddenly, the phone on the desk rings. Bob smiles, and looks to David. He picks up the phone, and answers.

“Hello?” He calmly asks.

“Albert’s dead.” The voice responds.

“Ah, good work, Shanti.” He says with a smile. “Did you find the files?”

“Yeah. I hope you had copies?”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say…I covered my tracks.” Shanti says with a vice tone. Bob sighs, and puts the phone to his other ear.

“Ok then.” He starts. “Do you remember your next target?”

“Yeah. Sharon Watson. Age 32.”

“Do you need a picture or video of what she looks like?”

”I already have one.” She says with a smile. “I’m always one step a head.”

“Very well then.” Bob says in a calm tone.

“Does she have any of your possessions?”

“Not her.” He says with a frown. “She just has a photographic memory. She didn’t need to steal anything.”

“Alright then.” Shanti says with a sigh. “I’ll inform you when she’s dead.”

“Good work, Shanti.” Bob says sternly. “And, next time, try to be a little more...discrete when you cover your tracks.”

Shanti laughs into the speaker. She pulls the phone away from her face, and closes it. She walks down the road as she places the phone in her jacket pocket. As she walks away, the house of Albert Tenman stands engulfed in flames. The fire burns brightly as heavy pillars of black smoke hover up to the sky.

Shanti walks to her car, and opens the door. As she sits down in her seat, she closes the door, and shuts her eyes. She stays silent for a moment, her mind concentrating. Suddenly, she opens her eyes, and puts the key into the ignition of the car with a laugh.

“Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.” She says with a haughty tone. The car pulls away and drives onto the road, and away from the forest. The house continues to burn brightly. Suddenly, an explosion of flames jettisons out from the upstairs windows, and the house collapses to the ground. The broken pieces of wood continue to burn, as the crippled outline of the house fades away into the flames.​

 

I stand at the Crossroads - the place where my father killed himself. As I reflect on the events of my life, I find myself asking for penance for the wrongs I have committed. My meditation is interrupted by two small boys.

"Why are you here?" I ask of them.

The larger one speaks up. "We came to see the Crossroads. Our fathers have told us stories about this place."

"Did you ever hear the story of the snake and the crane?"

They both shake their heads.

I kneel down and draw a curving line in the dirt. "The snake wanted to be something more. One day, when he was at the watering hole, he saw the crane."

I look to see that the boys are listening. This is the very story that my father told me before he took his life.

"The crane was so ignorant. But she could fly. The snake wanted that. So one day, the snake killed the crane and took her wings."

I draw several lines coming off of the center line. The image now becomes clear. It is the same one that I once wore around my neck.

"But though the snake could now fly, he never forgot the ground on which he once slithered."
​

 

Jimmy Ryons.
Part 1.
Challenge.
​

I walk down the dark city streets of New York. I see him. The man I'm making the deal with. The look on my face tells me everything. It's a trap. Now I should just turn tale and run if I was in my right mind.... But I'm not exactly in what someone would call their right mind.

As I walk towards him he sees my face. And right then he knew I knew. "Hows it going PAL??" I ask in the most sadistic voice I can muster. "Ya got my stuff??"

"J.. Ji... Jimmy.... I got it right here man." He than reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small radio.

"Whats all this Don?" I say trying to act suprised.

"They're only going to give me a year for this. I gotta family.. But you you're just a monster!!"

I smile sadistically. "But were is the fun when you're just a normal guy."

"Now!!" He scrams into the radio. I rear back and punch him in the face. A sickening crack is heard throughout the street as he falls to the ground. His face covered in blood. Seconds later a swarm of police officers surround me.

"Finnaly, I can meet Mathews. And have a real challenge."

 

I pause. The reluctance to return to her father and the raw emotional pain is evident in her voice...and although the human side of me is desperate to please her, the analytical part sharply reminds me that ridding the world of Sylar is far more important than satisfying the desires of a little girl. I smile reassuringly, struggling to find a compromise between the two goals; it's difficult for me to do so, as there are very rarely compromises in my area of science. Evolution selects its agents and ruthlessly discards the others - there are no peaceful solutions in nature. It all comes down to that simple phrase: do or die. I push these tangential thoughts away and return my attention to Elle, finally settling on a suitable 'fix'. After pushing back a loose strand of hair, I tuck my hands awkwardly into my pockets.

"Elle, this is not about protection...to put it bluntly, I want Sylar dead. And that would be much simpler with the resources at your father's disposal..." I see her heart begin to sink, and decide to throw her a lifeline. "However, I owe you so much. You can stay with me, as my partner within the Company. If your father says this is unacceptable, then I do not return and we can hunt Sylar down by ourselves. Does that sound okay?"

 

Claude Rains

One Week Ago Part II

My head spun with possibilities, different paths, different choices, different lives. I knew now that Noah was back in the game, only a matter of time till they come after me again, and again, and again until I'm in their custody or dead, frankly I'd prefer the latter. I'd have to keep moving, do what I always do, what I'm best at, disappearing, dropping off the face of the earth.

But it wasn't the only choice.

I turned the corner and headed into the shop on the corner, catching the all too familiar look of confusion on the proprietors face as the door swung open seemingly by itself. I created a distraction for myself by chucking a tin into the stock room while his back was turned. Like a good little boy he did as I intended and went off to investigate, giving me time to grab what I walked in here for, a fail-safe device, commonly known as a gun. I stood on the counter of the gun store, grabbing the 12 gauge off of the wall and stuffing my pockets full of shells. By now the store clerk had returned so I jumped down from the counter. I quickly walked out the door and down the street stuffing the shotgun under my jacket.

I was ready for them this time.

 

​

Elle looks up with a smile on her face. She laughs, and holds out her hand to Mohinder.

"Mohinder, I promise I won't let you down." She says in a reasurring tone. Elle lets go of Mohinder's hand, and turns to the window. "As for my father...I don't think he'll mind if I become your partner." She says with a sigh. "It's not like I have an assignment to take care of." She frowns and begins walking to the window.

"And don't worry. Next time I see Sylar," Elle turns back to Mohinder with a look of anger and hate, the sound of determination still lingering in her voice. She holds up her hand and the blue electricity begins to surge in the palm of her hand. The bright sparks flicker and flash as they illuminate the small shadows in the room.

"I won't miss."

 

Claude Rains

Truth and Consequences part I

Present Day

It'd been 7 days since the assassination of Nathan Petrelli. 7 days since I decided that no matter where I run I'd never be safe or free to live normally. 7 days I'd put off doing the right thing.

The shotgun under my coat swung by my side as I strode down the streets of New York. I thanked whatever deity that could be out there I hadn't had to use it yet. I stopped by a newspaper stand and snatched a copy, skipping straight to the obituaries as I always did. Nothing interesting this time- wait- 'Albert Tenman'...

"Charisma." I say under my breath. They'd got to him, it was only a matter of time. They'd killed a man that could talk his way out of anything, a man who cant be seen would be bloody child's play. They could be coming for me right now but I couldnt run just yet. I had some news of my own to deliver...

 

Before I can deliver justice to Nathan's killer, I need to speak to Claire. She deserves to hear about her father's death from me. Unfortunately, Noah took his family into hiding. I suppose I could go to Odessa and try to track them from there, but why waste time? Mohinder and Molly can make the process so much easier.

"Mohinder? It's Peter Petrelli," I announce as I enter what once was Isaac Mendez's loft. Now, it's full of Company things. I can't believe Mohinder is a Company man. Nevertheless, my quarrel isn't with him. At least, I don't think so.

"I could use your help."
​

 

Lost Souls Part 2​

​

France, 1916 ​

Adam Monroe sits in the cold wet mud of the deep trenches. He leans his back up against the padded wall of dirt, his head resting on his shoulders. As he calmly sits, the horrible noises of war sound throughout the battlefield. Adam listens to the cannons fire, as the shells soar through the air and then drop to the ground like rocks. They eroding a scar into the terrain, and send deadly debris into all directions, killing anything in its path.

As Adam pulls out a cigarette from the pocket inside his jacket, his friend leans down to him with a look of worry plastered on his face.

“Adam?” He compassionately asks. “You alright? You’re not your active self today.”

“No, I’m fine, Hans.” He says blowing out a puff of smoke from his mouth. “It’s this damn war.”

“But…I thought you told me you liked war?” His friend asks in confusion.

“I do, Hans.” Adam says in a saddened tone. “But this…this isn’t war. It’s madness.” Adam takes another breath of his cigarette, and blows the smoke through his nose. “We sit here in our holes, peaking over the top to get in a shot, only to be met with a bullet and fall to out deaths.”

“But, Adam. You love fighting. You said it was what you lived for.”

“Hans. I like war because it gives me something to do. Something to pass the time.”

“Pass the time?” His friend asks perplexed. “Life is so short as it is. I myself am eighteen! You know that. Everyday we get more and more soldiers. They get younger by the day! And most of them don’t make it a month. Time is something we all wish we had, Adam. How can you say you love war so you can…pass the time?” Hans stares at Adam with umbrage. Adam stays silent, and then looks up to his friend from where he sits.

“Trust me, kid. When you’ve lived as long as I have…you realize time is only a curse.” Adam falls back into silence, and continues to smoke his cigarette. His friend stares down at him in disappointment, trying to think of some reply. Hans sighs, and gets back to his feet. He looks back down to his friend, and frowns.

“You’ll want to stand up, Adam.” He says with a cynical voice. “You’ll get trench foot like that.” Adam lets out a small laugh, and continues to stare at the other end of the trench.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He says with a sardonic smile. Adam continues to think to himself, struggling to drown out the sound of gun’s firing and bombs exploding. He thinks back to the last time he wasn’t bored. The last time he found a challenge. The colonist he fought during the revolutionary war. Evan. Adam remembers what he said. “As long as you fight alone, you will always be weak.” The words still haunt Adam’s mind to this day.

All of his life he has been alone. Living without a purpose…without reason to go on other than because he must. All that changed when he met Hiro. For the first time, he learned friendship. And for the first time, Adam was happy. But this faded fast after the ruthless betrayal of the only man ever to show Adam what it means to have a purpose. Ever since, Adam has tried to harden his heart so he could never be hurt again. But, as Adam has learned, some wounds never heal.

A sudden cry in pain pulls Adam from his deep trance. He looks to his side to see Hans fall to the floor of the trench.

“Hans…” Adam whispers in disbelief. The cigarette falls from his mouth, and Adam rushes to the aid of his friend. He picks up his body from the mud, and holds him in his arms. He holds his friends head up, struggling to wake him.

”Hans!” He yells. “Wake up!” Adam suddenly feels a warm liquid running down his arm. He pulls his arm out from under his friend, and stares at the bright red stain on his hand. The blood runs down his fingers, covering his hand. Adam looks back down at his friend. He stares into the war torn eyes of his brother in arms, his eyes focused and concealed.

“It’s just another day.” Adam says under his breath. “Life isn’t eternal. Not for men like you, I’m afraid.” Adam runs his fingers across Hans’ eyes, closing them shut. Adam places the body back on the ground, and gets to his feet. “There may be strength in numbers…but there is never strength in relationships. There is only pain.” Adam frowns, a look of rage boiling inside him. “Time has certainly taught me that much.”

Adam walks to the other side of the trench, keeping his head ducked to avoid being shot. As he leaves his friend’s body, he hears the sounds of rats coming out from their holes. The rodents flock to the body, and begin devouring the fresh meat for their meal. Adam sneers as he hears their squeaks and wines. When he reaches his brothers, he sees them leaning up against the grimy dirt walls, watching and waiting. Adam loads his rifle, and holds it steady in his arms.

“The time is now.” Adam says sternly. “We strike the French. No good ever comes from waiting.”

“Monroe…we’re tired…and we’ve already charged their trench yesterday.” One of the soldiers complains.

”Then we’ll do it again, dammit! I’m sick of sitting here in the muck and grim watching the rats feast upon the bodies of the weak and the dead. I'm sick of waiting as I listen to the screams of good men die. We need action! Only resolve comes from action.”

“Listen, Monroe. We know you live for the thrill of combat, but we don’t. We’re here because we must be.” Adam grabs the man by his uniform, and pulls him in close. Adam stares the man in the eyes as he clenches his teeth in anger.

“Listen here, you coward! I wouldn’t have a second thought of throwing you kicking and screaming into the fire of the enemy’s guns if for no other reason then to shut you up! This is their last stand! We’ve driven them back to the border of the town. We attack their trench now!” Adam throws the man to the ground violently. He reaches to his belt, and pulls out his knife. He waves it around aggressively, a look of anger and excitement in his eyes.

“We attack them now! And if I hear a peep out of anyone, they will face me!”

“Adam, it’s suicide!” One of the men reasons.

“Not for me it isn’t.”

Adam climbs to the top of the trench, onto the normal ground of the area. He holds his gun high, and yells loudly to his other soldiers.

”Attack!” He says with a smile.“Kill every last one!”

The German soldiers climb the trench wall, and follow Adam’s assault. The men yell proudly as they run across the long stretch of flat land amongst the large holes, the grnarled pieces of shrapnel, and the clustered bodies of the dead.

Adam runs fast, his heart pounding from the excitement and thrill of battle. He feels his body filling with energy, as the adrenaline pumps through his veins furiously. He sees the smoke clouds rise into the air from the trench, watching the enemy soldiers firing their guns upon him and his men. Adam hears the sounds of death behind him as soldiers yell out in pain. He drowns the noises out, keeping his mind focused on one thing. Victory. The only thing Adam has ever cared about.

He soon reaches the enemy trench, a wide evil smile on his face. He jumps into the pit without a second thought. As he drops, he instantly feels the pain of bullets piercing his flesh. He yells out in pain, and begins to assault the enemy. He hits the soldiers with the butt of his gun, knocking them to the floor. As a soldier comes up behind him, he uses the spade at the end of his gun, and stabs them through their stomach. The men begin to over power him as they grab him and try to pull him to the ground. Adam struggles with all his might to fight, throwing punches and randomly swinging his weapon toward them. Just as he is about to be restrained, he sees his men jump down into the trench. He smiles, and breaks free of the French soldiers’ grasp.

“Kill them all!” He yells. Suddenly, he feels the sharp blade of a knife cut through his skin in the small of his back. He turns to face a soldier, no more that sixteen holding a bloodied knife. Adam grips his gun, and whips it across the boy’s face. He falls to the ground in pain, and Adam prepares to strike the soldier a final time. Suddenly, another man hits him in the back of his head, and Adam violently turns to the barrel of a gun.

“Mourir!” The soldier shouts. Adam thrusts the blade on his gun into the man’s leg. The soldier lowers the rifle and flinches in pain. He pulls the trigger and fires a bullet into Adam’s chest. Adam winces in pain, and grabs the soldier’s rifle, forcing it from his hands. He takes the gun and shoves it through the man’s body. He watches the man choke on his own blood and fall to the ground. Adam hears the cries of the wounded and dying. He smiles proudly, his body tense with exhilaration. Adam’s compassion is gone. He feels sympathy for no one, and no regret for the lives he takes. A French soldier runs over and yells something loudly to his comrades.

“Masque à gaz!”Adam watches the French soldiers grab for their gas masks, and immediately reacts.

“No!” He yells as he rips the mask from one of the men’s faces. “You won’t get rid of me so easily!” Amidst the chaos, Adam forgets about his soldiers, the German boys and men on his side. He tunes out their yells looks to the soldier carrying the gas canister in his hand. Adam lifts his rifle and runs toward the soldier. He takes his shot, and fires his weapon. The bullet sails through the air, perfectly hitting the canister. The gas instantly shoots from the canister, and the trench quickly becomes enveloped in the yellow cloud of toxic gas. Adam moves through the smoke with ease. He feels the pain of the gas searing his lungs as he breathes, only to have his body heal itself. Adam goes through the trench, pulling the masks from every man he sees, making no distinction between faction or side. Soon, all grows silent and still in the area. The coughing ceases, and the bodies of the soldiers scatter the trench floor. Adam squints to look through the gas, trying to see all that has happened.

As he moves through the deadly fog, he suddenly sees movement. He sees the silhouette of a blue figure moving slowly through the gas. Adam loads his gun, and moves closer to the figure. A strong wind rips through the land, and brushes the gas into the air. As the gas begins to dissipate, Adam gains a clearer image of the man. Adam stops, and lifts his rifle, aiming for the soldier’s head. He smiles as he pulls the trigger haughtily.

“Headshot.” He says with an evil grin. He watches the bullet shoot through the gas and head for its target. To Adam’s shock, the man does not fall from the shot. In fact, he isn’t even fazed. Adam’s grin turns to a frown. He reloads his rifle again, and fires on the man again. Again, Adam sees the same outcome. The man stands firm, his rifle held at his waist.

“What in the name of…” Adam stares in disbelief at the figure. Suddenly, the man runs toward Adam. The man holds his rifle ready to strike, and Adam quickly reacts. As the soldier nears, Adam pulls the knife from his belt. The figure quickly gets within tossing distance, and Adam throws his knife at the man. Adam stands firm as he waits for the blade to bring the man to the ground. To his surprise, he watches the blade go right through the soldier, and fade off into the fog. Within seconds, the man in upon Adam, shoving the end of his gun deep into Adam’s torso. Adam looks down at the gun piercing his body, and then up at the soldier. He stares at him in doubt as he struggles to speak.

“Y-You…” He says as blood drips from his mouth. “You don’t have a scratch.” Adam grabs the gun, and pulls it from his stomach. He steps backward, staggering in pain. He manages to stand firmly, a smile coming across his face. In only mere seconds, Adam’s wound heals, the damages gone. He wipes the blood from his chest, and shows the soldier haughtily. He spits the blood from his mouth, and laughs.

“And now neither do I.”

“Sacre bleu…” The soldier whispers. In one swift motion, Adam runs toward the soldier, bending to the ground as he picks up a fallen rifle. He lunges at the soldier, and thrusts the spade of the rifle into the man’s body. He sees the rifle penetrating deep into the soldier’s body, yet the man shows no emotion. Adam twists the rifle, and stares in shock when no blood drips from the wound. Adam pulls the rifle from the man’s body swiping to his side. The rifle cleanly exits the body with no evidence of penetration or injury. Adam looks at the end of his gun to see no blood on the spade. He looks to the soldier, and sees no blood on his uniform, and no pain on his face. The gas lifts higher into the air as it clears the area. The two men stare at each other dumbfounded.

Adam’s mind quickly goes back to when he first met Hiro. He remembers when he first saw what he could do. His mind fast forward’s to the revolutionary war. He remembers the man called Evan, and all he could do. Suddenly, it all clicks in his head. Adam smiles, and stands sternly, facing the French Soldier.

“So…you’re like me?” Adam says rhetorically. “Finally, a challenge worthy of a god.”

 

I grimace, and glance to the battered pistol that Elle had previously blasted out of Sylar's hand. "Neither will I."

I blink excessively, attempting to clear my eyesight. After all, I must be seeing things. Peter Petrelli died over six months ago. And yet now, he is in my laboratory, seemingly alive and well. I stride purposefully towards him, praying that he is in control again. The last time I laid eyes upon this man, his hands were consumed in a dark flame that threatened to wipe New York City off the face of the Earth. If a more religious man had been present, they may have thought it to be the end of the world; to me, though, it was merely an example of what the Company was set up to prevent. Even if it has lost its way in regards to this, it is a necessary evil.

"But...the explosion, above Kirby Plaza...how are you still alive?" I question hastily. "Are you in control of your powers, now? Where have you been all these months?"​

 

The interview had been mainly routine; in fact, Matthew Parkman had conducted many of this kind, himself. Being seated on the opposite side of the desk made little difference to a man that had witnessed brutal murder, that had been gunned down by telekinetically-propelled bullets, that was the guardian of a little clairvoyant girl. A sigh escaped his lips as he momentarily contemplated the incredible power that had been placed upon him - although it had guided him into danger the kinds of which he had never even known existed, it had presented him with an undeniable purpose in life. As was the way in such a world, a gift and a curse never came alone; rather, they walked hand in hand. The interrogator rapped his knuckles against the cold, hard desk to regain his captive's wandering attention. A tall, brisk man with a thick moustache coating his top lip, he was not an intimidating figure to Matt after a thought about his secret mistress, Mindy, had escaped his mind.

"Mr Parkman, the quicker you answer my questions, the quicker you can get the hell out of here!" the inspector barked, steepling his fingers and frowning in irritation. "So, I repeat...exactly what was the aim of this press conference?"

Matt paused, eyeing the other's irked expression. A telepathic nudge could discard the question with ease, but he decided against it. Summoning even the small amount of effort necessary to do so would be taxing for the weary officer; he had not slept since the night before the clash with Adam Monroe and the ill-fated conference. His back still throbbed from Peter Petrelli's telekinetic attack, which had sent him skidding down the hallway. He was in no condition to utilise his abilities in any way. "We were going to uncover the truth," he answered simply, settling back into his chair. The response would not nothing to assuage the inspector's curiosity, of course, but he hoped that it was an ample deflection.

"The truth about what?"

Matt leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. "I'm an officer on the NYPD. I know my rights, so let me put this to you - you knowcategorically that I did not kill Nathan Petrelli. I was standing right next to him, it's impossible. And if I could read your mind, I could confirm that you think that I had nothing to do with his death. The purpose of the press conference is irrelevant to the investigation, as no one knew outside of the three of us on the platform. Therefore, unless you have any other questions, I should be free to go." He rose to his feet, feeling relief soak into him as the inspector remained still. "You have my details if you need anything else from me, I'm sure."

The inspector sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his eyes narrowing. "I'll sign you out at the front desk, Mr Parkman. But don't think that this over. I've already contacted your superior, Detective Fuller, and informed him of the situation. The moment I say 'jump', he'll ensure that you say 'how high'."

Matt nodded. "Of course. I didn't expect anything less from a man of your stature." As the inspector moved begrudgingly out of the room, Matt added, "By the way, can you give my regards to Mindy? I love her new haircut."

With a gulp and a stutter, the inspector hurried from the room as Matt slumped back into his chair, awaiting his release.

 

​

"There will be time for reunions later, Mohinder," I state rashly. "But to quell your confusion, I survived thanks to my niece, Claire Bennet. Her ability saved me."

I take a deep breath. Here comes the bombshell...if he hasn't heard already.

"Nathan is dead," I explain blandly. "And I need to tell Claire the bad news. Unfortunately, I don't know where she is."

Time to get to the point. Hopefully Mohinder will agree to help me out. If not...well, I always have other methods of persuasion.

"But I've heard that you have a special little girl named Molly who's perfect for these situations."

 

​

Elle walks into the other room following behind Mohinder. As she passes the wall, she sees Peter Petrelli, her former "assignment." Elle becomes filled with mixed feelings. Her obligations to her father and the company tell her to take him down. But her new found feelings of love and care for helping others retrain her hands from attacking him.

Instead, Elle walks seductively toward Peter, a frown on her face.

"So," She calls out to him. "Where the hell did you go?"

 

​

I instinctively generate a ball of electricity in the palm of my hand. No one will stop me - especially not some sadistic, antisocial brat. On the other hand, my time with her was enjoyable...in a strange, seductive way.

"I've been cleaning up your father's mess," I respond rudely. "No thanks to you."

I turn back to Mohinder without letting my guard down. "So, what do you say, Mohinder? Care to help out a friend - for old times' sake?"

 

Hells Angel Part 3


Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
​

All is quiet in the streets as the dark sky of night looms over the city. A black unmarked car pulls into an open parking spot in front of a large apartment complex. The figure steps out of the car and gently closes the door. A click is heard as the figure adjusts something underneath her shirt. The figure is none other than Shanti, a ruthless mercenary hired by the company.

Shanti walks closely to the shadows, masking her presence. She walks to the front of the apartment building, and tries to open the door. She pulls back on the door, and notices it is locked. She sees a man sitting at the desk in the lobby, and bangs on the door. The man notices her, and walks to the door with a look of frustration.

“What do you want?” The man asks rudely. Shanti stays silent, and points to the lock on the door. The man looks at the lock, and then back up at her. “I’m not letting you in.” He says with a laugh. “No masked people allowed in the building. In fact, if you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops.”

Shanti frowns beneath the mask, and lifts her arm to the window. She thrusts her arm through the glass, and grabs the man by the next through the door. The man chokes as he struggles to break free. Glass pieces fall to the floor, and Shanti reaches for something under her jacket. She pulls out a gun, and aims at the man’s head. The man tries to yell for help as he sweats profusely in fear. Shanti pulls the trigger, the gun making no noise as the bullet fires from the barrel. The bullet hits the man directly in the forehead. He falls limp, and Shanti releases the body. He falls to the ground as blood trickles down his face. Shanti reaches her arm to the lock on the other side of the door, and opens the door.

She pushes the body aside as she walks inside. She looks up at the security camera, and fires another bullet toward it. The bullet hits the lens, shattering the camera. Shanti conceals the gun once again as she puts in inside her jacket on its holster. She leans down to the man’s body, and grabs the keys from his belt. She pulls a piece of cloth from her jacket pocket, and wraps the keys in it. She carefully puts the keys back in her pocket, and makes her way toward the stairs.

As she ascends up the stairs to the first floor, she closes her eyes, focusing her ability. She steps onto the first floor as a smile comes across her face.

“First floor, room eighteen. How convenient.” She quietly scoffs. She walks down the hallway stealthily, taking notice of the numbers on the doors. Soon, she reaches the end of the hallway. She sees the last room, and looks at the number on the door.

”Eighteen.” She says with a smile. She pulls the keys from her pocket, and unwraps them from the cloth without making a sound. “Place like this dump, got to have one universal key.” Shanti picks the largest key, and puts it in the lock. She turns the key, and hears the door unlock. She carefully pushes the door open, and walks into the dark room.

She looks around the place, searching for any signs of motion. Suddenly, she hears a noise, and turns in the direction of the sound. To her surprise, she is met with a woman holding an umbrella on her shoulder, preparing to swing. The woman violently swings the blunt object, hitting Shanti in the head, and knocking her to the floor. The woman runs off into another room and locks the door. Shanti gets to her feet, rubbing her head from the blow. She sneers as she pulls the gun from her jacket. She walks to the room slowly, loading her weapon.

“Stop right there!” The woman yells from the locked room. “I’ve got a shotgun pointed to the door! And I swear to God I’ll fire it if I hear you try to get in.”

Shanti stops, and stands a few feet from the door. She holds her gun ready, as she patiently waits. Moments go by, and suddenly, the woman inside the room speaks.

“I knew you were coming incase you’re wondering.” She yells. “We all know. Franz Brechtman, Gloria Denel, John Yonson, Albert Tenman. It didn’t take long to see the pattern.” Shanti smiles under her mask in satisfaction.

“Well, if you truly have figured out the pattern, then you know what’s going to happen.” Shanti calmly says.

“You won’t kill me!” The woman screams in panic. “I’ve already called the police! They are on their way!”

“Now why’d you have to go and do that?” Shanti says in anger. “Now I’ll have to kill them too.”

“You can’t kill all of them! You’re going away!”

“You underestimate me.” Shanti says with a laugh. She aims her gun at the door on the room. She pulls the trigger, and within less then a second, the handle is blown off the door. Shanti waits and listens for the sound of a shotgun shell to be loaded. She hears nothing, and closes her eyes, concentrating. In her mind, Shanti looks into the room at the woman cowering in fear beneath her bed. Shanti opens her eyes, and laughs.

“Shotgun?” She scoffs. “I should have known better.” Shanti runs to the door, and forces her bodyweight into it. The door bursts open, and Shanti looks around the room. She sees the bed, and carefully approaches it. She raises her gun, and aims it to the front of the bed. She smiles, and pulls the trigger. The bullet rips through the bed quickly, leaving a hole in its trail. The woman screams a quick cry in pain, and all falls silent. Shanti stands calmly, waiting for a few minutes, ready for anything.

She looks to the bed, and sees a pool of blood coming from underneath. She closes her eyes again, trying to focus. After a few moments, she opens her eyes and laughs.

“If I can’t find you…it’s because you’re no longer here, Sharon.” Shanti places the gun back in the holster under her jacket, and makes her way out of the room. “Hope you make better decisions in the afterlife.” Shanti walks into the hallway, and makes her way out the door of the apartment. She pulls the door shut, and turns the keys still in the lock. The door locks, and Shanti pulls the keys from the door. She throws them down the hallway, and begins to walk toward the stairs.

******​

Outside, Shanti smoothly walks to her car. She opens the door, and steps inside. She pulls a cell phone from her glove compartment, and dials a number. A voice answers on the other end, and Shanti speaks.

”Sharon’s dead, Mr. Bishop.” She says coldly.

”I take it you were less…dramatic with how you left the scene?” Bob asks in a serene tone. Shanti lets out a small laugh.

“More or less.”

“Good. Now, I have another target for you to find.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Shanti interjects. “I’ve been doing your dirty work for a few months now, and you still haven’t helped me.” Bob laughs as he switches the phone to his other ear.

“All in due time, Shanti. You’re still getting paid. I thought that is all you mercenaries want anyway.” Shanti frowns, and speaks quietly in anger.

“Not all of us.”

“Don’t worry, Shanti You will get what you want soon. There aren’t many people left.”

”Okay, then.” Shanti says with a sigh. “Who’s my next target.”

“Claude Rains.” Bob says with a smile. “The most elusive of them all.”

“What can he do?” Shanti asks apathetically.

“He’s able to become invisible at any time. Your powers will be a very big asset with this target.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Shanti says with an unimpressed tone. “I’ll find him.”

“Oh, and Shanti?” Bob says sternly.

“Yes?” Shanti says impatiently.

“Try to make sure no one sees you. I don’t need this company jeopardized because a mercenary decides to get creative.”

Shanti frowns and hangs up. She throws the phone back into the glove compartment, and turns the key in the ignition. The car’s engine starts, and the car pulls off into the street. It travels down the road and soon fades off into the dark shadows of the city.