Fiction: Loyalty part 1
Sep. 11th, 2009 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Loyalty Part 1 of 3
Characters: Audrey, Matt, Mohinder
Rating: 18 for language
Warnings: Mentions of violence, adult language, adult situations
Note: A birthday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
perdiccas sequel to Trust
Six weeks incarcerated in this antiseptic, sterile prison of a medical unit. Six weeks of ‘a smile won’t hurt Ms Hanson!’
Agent. Not ‘Ms’. Not Ms, not Miss, not fucking Ma’am. Agent.
Six weeks of Matt looking at the doors every time they open and sagging when it’s not Suresh. Six weeks of him struck dumb and stupid when it is.
It’s all I can do not to bang their heads together.
“Doctor Suresh would just like to do some last tests before releasing you,” the nurse chirps. Nurse, ha, I’ve got shoes older than this one, and she’d blow away in a breeze.
Suresh is pretty enough to pass the time looking at. Though he’s got a face like thunder right now. I’m slouched back against the wall as he inserts something into Campbell’s skin. The little pervert is wriggling and giggling as Suresh tries to hold him still.
“You should get Matt in here,” Campbell giggles. “We could show you how it’s done.”
Suresh freezes, shit even his voice gets icy. “What do you mean?”
“I had him in restraints, he squirmed something beautiful,” Campbell says, licking his lips. “Squirmed and begged.”
“He was asking you to stop attacking him, you little prick!” I snap.
“I was...ow!” he wails as Suresh slams him back and wrenches restraints around his arms. “Hey, you need to give me some notice before you hurt me,” he says piteously. “I have to be in the right... you know... mindset.”
Suresh hisses something into Campbell’s ear, something that sounds a lot like, ‘I care precisely nothing for what you want or need.’
Campbell’s widened eyes slide over to me, like he thinks I’m going to fucking help him? Come out of bizarro world kid.
“You want me to hold him down?” I ask.
Suresh blushes, just a hint of redness in his cheeks, and straightens himself. “I think I can manage, but thank you Agent Hanson.”
You see? It’s not so difficult is it? Geez.
“Sylar wouldn’t like you hurting me,” Campbell whines.
“Sylar can take a long walk off a short pier,” Suresh retorts.
Wow, threatening doc.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew him,” the little weirdo pouts.
Suresh smiles and leans over him. “Little boy, clearly Sylar has neglected your education. Allow me to enlighten you; I know Gabriel Grey very well. I have had him entirely helpless and, if I wanted to, I could kill him.” He snaps his fingers. “Like that.”
“You’re not special!”
“Oh no,” Suresh agrees. “But I am very, very intelligent. You’ll find that’s a good deal more important when it counts.”
Okay, maybe there’s more to him than pretty.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Suresh says uncomfortably.
Is he serious? That was the most fun I’ve had since they locked me up in this mausoleum.
“Hey, if you hadn’t been here I’d have smacked him around myself. Creepy little shit deserves it.”
“I hadn’t realised that he’d assaulted M... Detective Parkman,” he says quietly.
Jesus, they’re as bad as each other. How can either of these two clowns ever get laid? I’ve seen Queer as Folk, you can’t sell me on shyness and embarrassment being a part of the mating rituals. “His name is ‘Matt’ and I know full damn well you know that. God knows he calls you ‘Mohinder’ enough.”
“He talks about me?” he asks, almost breaking the syringe.
Oh for the love of Pete, I’m going to lock ‘em in a room and not let them out until they’ve shagged themselves to exhaustion. That’s what I’ll do.
“All the fucking time, annoys the hell out of me.”
“What does he say?”
I love it when people only hear what they want and ignore the rest. Doesn’t drive me up the wall at all.
“Can’t betray a confidence, doc.” Like I’m still listening after six weeks of it. “Now are you letting me out or am I climbing under the wire?”
Suresh nods, looking distracted, which is always what you want from a man with access to medical equipment.
Home sweet home; the air is stale, the fridge is overrun with decomposing food, and the fruit bowl is an orgy of maggots.
“Doing your part to support the ecosystem huh?” Matt asks, prodding the bowl.
“Quit touching them, you’ll make them mad or something. Stop fucking laughing at me, Parkman!”
He leans back against the cupboards. “I’m sorry, I apologise for finding it amusing that the woman who threatened to rip off Luke Campbell’s nuts is freaked out by tiny, harmless bugs.”
“You’re right, there’s no way those things are as disgusting as Campbell.” I flourish the bowl at him. “Earn your damn keep and get rid of them.”
“If it was rats or something maybe I could understand,” he calls as he wanders away with the bowl. “Something with teeth or carrying diseases.”
“Shut up!”
I zap a couple of TV dinners and we park on the sofa to watch some badly dubbed Spanish soap opera.
“Why aren’t you staying at Suresh’s place?”
He gives me the stinkeye and stabs his lasagne with a fork. “Not this again. He didn’t ask me, okay? I have nowhere else to stay and you offered me your couch.”
“I know that bit. I was there for that part. I was the one saying ‘you can stay on my couch’,” I say tartly.
“Yeah, you did and here I am.” He salutes me with his fork. “Blessings on you, your mouldy fridge, and your maggots.”
“Ha fucking ha. Didn’t you even tell Suresh you don’t have a place to stay?”
Matt slams the container down onto the coffee table and a little of the overcooked meat slops onto the scuffed wood. “For god’s sake Audrey, leave it alone! I am not going to humiliate myself by going after someone who has no interest in me and who would probably be offended at the suggestion!”
“Why the fuck would he be offended?” He’s not my type exactly and god knows he’s not ‘fashionable’ but he’s handsome in a cuddly kind of way. Not to mention having the biggest cock I’ve ever seen and I’ve had plenty.
Matt rolls his eyes. “Because he’s way, way, way out of my league.”
“He likes you.”
“Not like that,” he snarls, angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I’d be real happy if you wouldn’t mention it again.”
“Oh fine, don’t get your panties in such a bunch. Try to help a guy and you get snarled at.” I lean back and pick at my food. “And let me tell you, Parkman, snarling is not your most appealing expression. You look like an angry hamster.”
He snorts and picks up his food again. “But not as scary as angry maggots, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“Oh real mature.” I pick up the case file and wave it at him. “You good to roll tomorrow on this?”
He shrugs casually. “Sure, what is it?”
“Bunch of robbery/murders and the perps like setting the vics on fire, without the aid of matches or propellant. Started in the vicinity of the escape, right after the escape, at least two of them.”
“Set on fire like by Campbell?”
“No, not microwaved, these are outside in like a regular burn. Just from some guy waving his hand about.”
“Why’s it always hands?” he wonders. “Why does nobody have flames come out of their nose?”
“Because that would be stupid,” I say.
“Unlike that guy whose ability was to fart helium?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“You’re making that up,” I say scowling at him.
“Or Ted, how stupid is the ability to accidentally give your wife cancer?” he continues and then starts laughing. “Or that chick who cries and everyone dies. How completely stupid is that?”
Cries? Her ability is crying? There is a god and he’s a) a man, and b) a chauvinist pig. Big surprise there then. “You have to be kidding me. She cries and people die? What the hell use is that? Does she cry a lot?”
“I really hope not,” he says wryly.
“Some fucking next stage of humanity you lot are. You’ll kill yourselves before you’ll take over the world.”
“You’re just jealous,” he says lightly. “You know you want to be able to kill people with your tears.”
“I would rather die than cry,” I say acidly.
“Yeah but the rest of us would be safe.” He puts the empty container down on the table. “If it ever comes up, don’t be a mind reader.”
Not if my life depended on it. “No fear, Parkman, I’m not going to steal your act.”
We fly to Oklahoma and pick up the rental car at the airport. They’ve done a real half-assed job cleaning it, there’s a condom wrapper in the well of the driver’s door. Huh, sexy.
Matt’s phone rings as he’s wrestling with the map.
“Hello? Oh... oh hi...”
Who needs to be a mind reader to hear the change in tone? Good job he never cheated on Janice, he’d be caught in seconds.
“Say hi to Mohinder for me,” I ask.
“Shut up,” he mutters. “No, not you, Audrey. Her and her sense of humour.”
God, I’m horny. Have to pick up some strange at the hotel. I did call ahead this time and get us a hotel, not some flea bitten motel with delusions of adequacy.
Matt’s leaning away, talking quietly into the phone. Thirty-eight is too damn old to be having hopeless crushes. At his age, hell at any age past thirty, a crush you’ll never see fulfilled should just a fun fantasy not something that well, crushes you.
Fucking romantic idealists. They set themselves up to be ground underfoot every time and they never learn.
“Okay, okay bye,” he says softly. He puts the phone away and glances toward me. “Not a single word.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Promises, promises,” he retorts.
We arrive a couple of hours after the latest robbery, lucky us.
“This is the third bank?” Matt asks. “How much money do they need?”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and unlock the car door. “Money to burn.”
“Funny, very witty.”
The locals watch us warily and the police chief starts by addressing Matt.
“Hey, McCloud, I’m not the fucking eye-candy. Look at me when you talk or I’ll make you, you clear?”
He gapes at me. “Ma’am did you threaten me?”
“No, bozo, a woman requiring fair treatment is not a threat. Would you like to try for a threat?”
“Okay!” Matt says quickly. “How about we look in the bank, yeah?”
“Fine, knock yourselves out,” the chief say. “Please.”
Not much to see in the bank, waste of time, no reason to hang about...
“Audrey will you please calm down!” Matt asks. “You’re wearing a groove in the floor.”
I don’t get anxiety attacks so I don’t know what that was. Besides annoying of course.
The smell of charred flesh is still heavy in the air. It’s unmistakable, unforgettable.
“How many dead?” I ask the local officer who’s trailed in with us.
“Four Ma’am uh...”
“Agent Hanson,” Matt murmurs, over his words.
The officer gives him a grateful look. “Four, Agent Hanson, and a dozen more injured. They weren’t putting up a fight or anything.”
“We’d like to see the surveillance material,” I say, as Matt wanders away. I learnt my lesson last time, let him wander and poke as the mood takes him.
“Yes, I’ll arrange for that. You’ll be wanting an incident room setting up?”
“Uh huh, at the local FBI office, send everything there.” He’s cute but that would shitting in my own nest and if I was going to do that I wouldn’t be starting with this kid.
“What’s your name officer?”
“Budd Brody.”
“Audrey,” Matt calls. “You got a second?”
He’s over by the vault, down on one knee.
“What’ve you got?” I lean back against the wall.
He taps a black smudge at the bottom of the vault. “A fingerprint.” He looks up at me. “Melted into the metal.”
“Jesus, really?” I kneel down on the floor next to him. “I thought abilities didn’t hurt the person?”
“That’s right, but there’s no sign of him being injured,” he says. “Just really... hot.”
“Hey!” I call to the officer. “Did you take this print already?”
He jogs over with the one of the forensics guys trailing behind.
“There are no prints,” the forensics guy drawls looking me up and down. “But you’re more than welcome to dust me.
“Drop your pants.”
Matt clamps a hand over his mouth, covering his sniggers, as Brody and my would-be suitor gape at me.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t buy what I haven’t seen, so show me the goods or get the fuck out of my face.”
“Give it up Chen,” Brody laughs.
Chen flushes red.
“Clit tease, now do some good and look at this fingerprint,” I order, tapping the bottom of the vault with the toe of my shoe.
We grab a hot dog from a vendor nearby and watch the road.
“It’s busy,” Matt notes. “But they weren’t disturbed. Nobody knew anything had happened until the bodies were found.”
He’s right, the road is five deep so how did nobody notice? “Why were they killed? Brody said the witnesses said the victims weren’t putting up a fight.”
“Oh, that one’s easy,” Matt says sourly. “It was fun. I read that file; there was no reason to kill the victims at the other scenes. How much money was taken?”
I steal one of his onions. “Not enough to bother with. Two days ago there was twice as much money in the vault. Either we’ve got some really sloppy bank robbers...”
“Or it’s about something other than the money,” he chimes in. “Why do you never have the simple ones?”
“That’s what the regular PD is for,” I say with a grin. “We don’t like you getting your pretty heads all mixed up with the complex stuff.”
“Huh,” he says, dabbing a smear of mustard from my lip. “Makes me wonder what brainy old you wants dumb pretty me for,” he says tartly.
“I’ve got to have someone to explain the difficult stuff to.”
Matt hands me his hot dog, digs a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and wanders over to the vendor. Five minutes later, he returns with two coffees.
He juggles the coffees to take his hot dog, finish it in two bites, and throw away the used wrapper. It always surprises me how graceful he is and how economical his movements are. I’ve been partnered with some clumsy oafs let me tell you, shoot themselves as soon as the perp, and always covered in stale coffee, ketchup, and cheese. Matt’s always beautifully turned out: no stains, no rips or holes. Matt actually dresses as if he’s proud to be a cop.
“If I can speak to some of the witnesses I might be able to get some sense of the perpetrators,” he suggests tentatively.
“Read their minds? I thought you just heard the voices?”
He shrugs and reddens. “Mohinder thinks I might be able to expand my ability to receive images as well. He found some records about mind readers in the Primatech files. No names or dates just the scientific stuff.”
“Oh, Mohinder thinks that, does he?” I ask.
He takes a sip of coffee. “Lucky me, I’m still interesting enough that they want to test me.” He gives me a warning look that says no way should I take that as an indication to amuse myself at his expense again.
“Well if you could pull an image from them that would be useful. But they were all in the throes of the screaming heebie jeebies and got dragged off to the hospital for sedation.”
“Huh,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “That’s a coincidence isn’t it?”
I throw away my hot dog wrapper and take my coffee from him. “You want to hear another one? There hasn’t been one of these robbery/murders in eight weeks. Before that they were once a month. Now within hours of us getting here there’s another one.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Paranoia or delusions of grandeur?”
“Delusions of grandeur sound far more fun,” I say. “Just tossing the thought out there.”
“I’m not touching that one,” he says archly, and bins his coffee cup. “Shall I go to the hospital and see these heebie jeebed witnesses?”
“Yeah, I’ll set up the incident room and kick ass until we get the rest of the evidence from the other crime scenes,” I say, smacking my lips. “Say hi to Mohinder when he calls.”
He makes an obscene gesture as he wanders away.
On the way back to the bank I practically crash into this guy; mid sixties, heavy built, face like an unhappy bloodhound and...
...what was I doing? Jesus, I really need to get my head back in the game. Concentrate Audrey, you were going back into the bank to see if Brody had turned up the surveillance tapes yet.
The local FBI office has been scaled down a lot recently but it’s still got everything we’ll need.
“Nobody’s going to blow us up are they?” Agent Fisher drawls, slouching to the room we’ll be using.
“Excuse me?”
He smirks at me, he’s handsome enough in a stretched out, tired kind of way. “Word on the wire is that a couple of months ago you arrested half a pair of killers and the other one blew up the FBI office to get him back.”
“Oh please, he didn’t blow it up.” I throw my jacket off to one side and power up one of the computers. “Why, you scared of getting your hands dirty Fisher?”
“Nah, I’ve been desk based for too long. A bit of excitement would suit me down to the ground.”
“Careful what you wish for.”
“You’re working with an LAPD detective?” he asks curiously. “What’s with that?”
“Sometimes you have to look outside the agency for specialised help. Now be a good boy and get out of my face.”
Parkman shows up just as the surveillance tapes finally arrive.
“You look like shit,” I observe. “No fun gawping at the pretty nurses? Or are you completely queer now?”
He rolls his eyes as several of our fellow agents glance in our direction. “You done? Or would you like to embarrass me some more?”
“Never be embarrassed of who you are, Matt,” I say, sitting back on the desk. “Be proud.”
“Screw you, Ma’am,” he says sweetly.
“So what did you get?” I ask as he cues up the surveillance tapes.
He glances back and lowers his voice. “Someone did a real number on them. Most of them don’t remember anything but an intense fear. A couple of them remember a flame and that’s it.”
“None of them remember anything about the perps? Nothing at all?” I ask incredulously.
“No,” he says, standing up. “Someone’s been in there.” He taps the side of his head. “Maybe in time I could do something but... I don’t know what I’m doing. I could cause all kinds of damage.”
I wave a hand and turn on the tape. “Nah, you did the right thing.”
Onscreen people are going through the usual motions of yelling at cashiers, queuing, talking loudly on phones. I scroll on until three men appear in the bottom corner. Two white, one black. The older white guy has his back to the camera, he’s heavy built and in casual clothes. He stays where he is, while the other two swagger around the bank. People start screaming before any sign of flames erupt from the white guy’s hands. An older, well-dressed couple are calm though, look like they’re talking to the older guy. Mr Hotstuff glances back at the older guy and sets them both on fire.
“That’s an execution,” Matt says quietly.
“Looks like.”
The other two murders look almost random. Hotstuff reeling around like a kid in a candy store. Torches a woman cowering under a desk, a man on the floor, then the older guy waves a hand and the fun times are over. The third man slams a fist right through the vault and wrenches it open. Huh, we thought they’d used some kind of drill.
“He’s in charge,” I say tapping the screen. “The older guy keeping with his back to the camera.”
“Look,” Matt says, pointing at the window just visible. “These people are obviously screaming their heads off, so why’re people outside just wandering past obliviously?”
“Good question.”
“Tapes from the other crime scenes turn up yet?” Matt asks.
“Nah, tomorrow. The video lab is pulling off shots of Mr Hotsuff and his punchy pal,” I say. “We’ll get them sharpened enough to be recognisable and then circulated, shame this guy is so shy,” I gesture at the older guy.
“Some people just have no sense of fair play,” Matt says airily.
I check my watch. “It’s late, you want to get something to eat?”
“You ever see Janice?” I ask, as he makes inroads into some kind of fish soup.
“Hmm? No,” he says casually and then looks at me. “You know that the baby wasn’t mine?”
“I figured.” If Matt Parkman would turn away from his kid without so much as a second thought then he’s not the man I thought he was.
He sighs quietly and has a sip of his wine. “I’d love to have kids some day.”
“Yeah, you’ll be one of those disgustingly adorable dads,” I charge, pointing a fork at him. “Going to all the Little League games and helping them learn their lines in the school play.”
Matt shrugs and chases a shrimp around his bowl with the spoon. “It’s just a fantasy.”
“Oh please, you’re young enough. Guys don’t get the same cut-off women do.”
“Audrey, come on. I can’t even get a date. I know that I could marry some sweet but dim twenty year-old and knock her up but I don’t want to. I want someone I can have a proper conversation with, someone with interests and a career, and I can’t even start conversations with people like that.”
“You could adopt,” I suggest. “Worry about finding some smart, ambitious man or woman afterwards.”
“I can barely look after myself. I don’t even have a place to live,” he says sourly. He looks up and frowns when the chunk of bread bounces off his shoulder. “Audrey!”
“Cheer the fuck up! You’re never going to bang Mohinder with that kind of attitude. Positive thinking!”
“You are telling me to use positive thinking?” he asks disbelievingly. “Who are you and where’s the real Audrey?”
“Don’t call me okay?” I say, as we walk into the hotel. “Unless it’s an emergency.”
Matt looks at me. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.” I turn to the receptionist on the desk. “Where’s the bar?”
“Down on the right.”
“Oh god,” Matt groans. “You’re on the prowl! Be careful!”
“I’m a big girl and I know what I’m doing.”
Hotel bars are always full of bored, lonely people. The trick is avoiding the married ones but apart from that, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Get a drink, sit at a table, wait. I bin off the slick guy, no thanks, in favour of the quieter less assured teacher in town for a conference. Decent face, okay body, pretty good sex.
Jesus, I hate men who cry after sex. See a therapist already.
He gets a little huffy when I leave right after but he’ll get over it.
In the morning, Matt’s bleary eyed and confused over his scrambled eggs and toast.
“What’s up with you?”
“Late night,” he admits. “You’re not looking like you got that much sleep either.”
“I got enough, once I got to my own room,” I say cheerfully. “I was...”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I think anyone looking at you can tell what you were doing.”
“Smart ass. What were you doing?”
Matt shrugs and plays with his fork. “Mohinder rang up.”
“Phone sex?”
He glares at me. “No! We just talked.”
“For how long?”
“Four or five hours,” he mutters.
Four or five hours? These are supposed to be men not thirteen year-old school girls. “What the fuck could you find to talk about for five hours?”
“Just because you can’t communicate doesn’t mean other people can’t,” he says, scowling at me.
“I communicate well enough to get someone into bed without months of angsting over it.”
“Yeah, and do you even remember his name?”
“Why would I want to?”
Matt snorts and shrugs. “I can’t imagine.”
“I want to look at those other crime scene reports today as well as hopefully getting the pictures of the perps out there.”
He nods and takes a bite of his eggs. “Even the guy with his back to the camera?”
“You never know.”
“They’re either getting sloppy or they’ve been lucky before. There weren’t any pictures of their faces before,” he remarks.
“I’m betting lucky, those two grandstanding didn’t strike me as the methodical type.”
Matt drums his fingers on the desk. “Mohinder was going to look through the files and find any references to intense fear he could find as well as pyrokinesis.”
“That’s peachy him. What the hell is pyrokinesis?”
He waves a hand vaguely. “Making fire. Apparently the blue flame means it’s really hot.”
“Come on, let’s go buy a couple of fire extinguishers on the way.”
The pictures of the younger guys are clear enough someone should recognise them.
“I’ve spun through the other tapes,” Matt says, stretching. “Or what there is. As soon as they walked into the bank Mr Hotstuff melted the cameras.”
“Still think I’m paranoid?”
“You think this is a specific attempt to get our attention? Yeah, I think you’re paranoid. An attempt to get a higher amount of police attention, sure.” He taps on the desk. “Have we checked if there have been any similar murders outside of banks?”
“Similar enough to raise questions,” I say. “An Angela Petrelli in New York, robbed in her penthouse and torched, a Kaito Nakamura likewise in Japan... what?”
He stares at me. “Angela Petrelli is Peter and Nathan’s mother and that Hiro kid, the time traveller, he’s Nakamura.”
“Time traveller?”
“What were the names of the people murdered yesterday?” he asks, scrabbling in the paperwork. “Here we go, Harry Fletcher, John Sussman, Paula Gramble, and Marie Hernandez. The first two, the ones that seemed to be the primary targets, were Fletcher and Gramble.”
“Those names ring any bells?”
“No, I’ll run them through the official databases and ask Mohinder.”
“We’re going to have to put him on the damn payroll at this rate,” I say.
“I don’t know anyone else with access to that kind of data,” Matt says stiffly. “Bennet, I suppose.”
“Bennet’s not nearly as pretty. Not that he doesn’t have a certain... something,” I admit. “Now explain to me how this time travel thing works?”
Matt’s white when I wander back into the office. “Hey, Gramble, Fletcher and the others are all down as founding members of Primatech Paper, how fucking coincidental is that?”
He just looks at me blankly.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Someone die?”
“No. I rang up to speak to Mohinder and his assistant said... he’s been abducted. From his apartment in the early hours of the morning they think. Traffic cameras in the street outside his apartment showed him being carried into a van by two men.” He holds up two printouts. “It’s them, Audrey, our bank robbers and they’ve got Mohinder.”
End of Part One
Part Two
Characters: Audrey, Matt, Mohinder
Rating: 18 for language
Warnings: Mentions of violence, adult language, adult situations
Note: A birthday fic for
perdiccas sequel to Trust Six weeks incarcerated in this antiseptic, sterile prison of a medical unit. Six weeks of ‘a smile won’t hurt Ms Hanson!’
Agent. Not ‘Ms’. Not Ms, not Miss, not fucking Ma’am. Agent.
Six weeks of Matt looking at the doors every time they open and sagging when it’s not Suresh. Six weeks of him struck dumb and stupid when it is.
It’s all I can do not to bang their heads together.
“Doctor Suresh would just like to do some last tests before releasing you,” the nurse chirps. Nurse, ha, I’ve got shoes older than this one, and she’d blow away in a breeze.
Suresh is pretty enough to pass the time looking at. Though he’s got a face like thunder right now. I’m slouched back against the wall as he inserts something into Campbell’s skin. The little pervert is wriggling and giggling as Suresh tries to hold him still.
“You should get Matt in here,” Campbell giggles. “We could show you how it’s done.”
Suresh freezes, shit even his voice gets icy. “What do you mean?”
“I had him in restraints, he squirmed something beautiful,” Campbell says, licking his lips. “Squirmed and begged.”
“He was asking you to stop attacking him, you little prick!” I snap.
“I was...ow!” he wails as Suresh slams him back and wrenches restraints around his arms. “Hey, you need to give me some notice before you hurt me,” he says piteously. “I have to be in the right... you know... mindset.”
Suresh hisses something into Campbell’s ear, something that sounds a lot like, ‘I care precisely nothing for what you want or need.’
Campbell’s widened eyes slide over to me, like he thinks I’m going to fucking help him? Come out of bizarro world kid.
“You want me to hold him down?” I ask.
Suresh blushes, just a hint of redness in his cheeks, and straightens himself. “I think I can manage, but thank you Agent Hanson.”
You see? It’s not so difficult is it? Geez.
“Sylar wouldn’t like you hurting me,” Campbell whines.
“Sylar can take a long walk off a short pier,” Suresh retorts.
Wow, threatening doc.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew him,” the little weirdo pouts.
Suresh smiles and leans over him. “Little boy, clearly Sylar has neglected your education. Allow me to enlighten you; I know Gabriel Grey very well. I have had him entirely helpless and, if I wanted to, I could kill him.” He snaps his fingers. “Like that.”
“You’re not special!”
“Oh no,” Suresh agrees. “But I am very, very intelligent. You’ll find that’s a good deal more important when it counts.”
Okay, maybe there’s more to him than pretty.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Suresh says uncomfortably.
Is he serious? That was the most fun I’ve had since they locked me up in this mausoleum.
“Hey, if you hadn’t been here I’d have smacked him around myself. Creepy little shit deserves it.”
“I hadn’t realised that he’d assaulted M... Detective Parkman,” he says quietly.
Jesus, they’re as bad as each other. How can either of these two clowns ever get laid? I’ve seen Queer as Folk, you can’t sell me on shyness and embarrassment being a part of the mating rituals. “His name is ‘Matt’ and I know full damn well you know that. God knows he calls you ‘Mohinder’ enough.”
“He talks about me?” he asks, almost breaking the syringe.
Oh for the love of Pete, I’m going to lock ‘em in a room and not let them out until they’ve shagged themselves to exhaustion. That’s what I’ll do.
“All the fucking time, annoys the hell out of me.”
“What does he say?”
I love it when people only hear what they want and ignore the rest. Doesn’t drive me up the wall at all.
“Can’t betray a confidence, doc.” Like I’m still listening after six weeks of it. “Now are you letting me out or am I climbing under the wire?”
Suresh nods, looking distracted, which is always what you want from a man with access to medical equipment.
Home sweet home; the air is stale, the fridge is overrun with decomposing food, and the fruit bowl is an orgy of maggots.
“Doing your part to support the ecosystem huh?” Matt asks, prodding the bowl.
“Quit touching them, you’ll make them mad or something. Stop fucking laughing at me, Parkman!”
He leans back against the cupboards. “I’m sorry, I apologise for finding it amusing that the woman who threatened to rip off Luke Campbell’s nuts is freaked out by tiny, harmless bugs.”
“You’re right, there’s no way those things are as disgusting as Campbell.” I flourish the bowl at him. “Earn your damn keep and get rid of them.”
“If it was rats or something maybe I could understand,” he calls as he wanders away with the bowl. “Something with teeth or carrying diseases.”
“Shut up!”
I zap a couple of TV dinners and we park on the sofa to watch some badly dubbed Spanish soap opera.
“Why aren’t you staying at Suresh’s place?”
He gives me the stinkeye and stabs his lasagne with a fork. “Not this again. He didn’t ask me, okay? I have nowhere else to stay and you offered me your couch.”
“I know that bit. I was there for that part. I was the one saying ‘you can stay on my couch’,” I say tartly.
“Yeah, you did and here I am.” He salutes me with his fork. “Blessings on you, your mouldy fridge, and your maggots.”
“Ha fucking ha. Didn’t you even tell Suresh you don’t have a place to stay?”
Matt slams the container down onto the coffee table and a little of the overcooked meat slops onto the scuffed wood. “For god’s sake Audrey, leave it alone! I am not going to humiliate myself by going after someone who has no interest in me and who would probably be offended at the suggestion!”
“Why the fuck would he be offended?” He’s not my type exactly and god knows he’s not ‘fashionable’ but he’s handsome in a cuddly kind of way. Not to mention having the biggest cock I’ve ever seen and I’ve had plenty.
Matt rolls his eyes. “Because he’s way, way, way out of my league.”
“He likes you.”
“Not like that,” he snarls, angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I’d be real happy if you wouldn’t mention it again.”
“Oh fine, don’t get your panties in such a bunch. Try to help a guy and you get snarled at.” I lean back and pick at my food. “And let me tell you, Parkman, snarling is not your most appealing expression. You look like an angry hamster.”
He snorts and picks up his food again. “But not as scary as angry maggots, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“Oh real mature.” I pick up the case file and wave it at him. “You good to roll tomorrow on this?”
He shrugs casually. “Sure, what is it?”
“Bunch of robbery/murders and the perps like setting the vics on fire, without the aid of matches or propellant. Started in the vicinity of the escape, right after the escape, at least two of them.”
“Set on fire like by Campbell?”
“No, not microwaved, these are outside in like a regular burn. Just from some guy waving his hand about.”
“Why’s it always hands?” he wonders. “Why does nobody have flames come out of their nose?”
“Because that would be stupid,” I say.
“Unlike that guy whose ability was to fart helium?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“You’re making that up,” I say scowling at him.
“Or Ted, how stupid is the ability to accidentally give your wife cancer?” he continues and then starts laughing. “Or that chick who cries and everyone dies. How completely stupid is that?”
Cries? Her ability is crying? There is a god and he’s a) a man, and b) a chauvinist pig. Big surprise there then. “You have to be kidding me. She cries and people die? What the hell use is that? Does she cry a lot?”
“I really hope not,” he says wryly.
“Some fucking next stage of humanity you lot are. You’ll kill yourselves before you’ll take over the world.”
“You’re just jealous,” he says lightly. “You know you want to be able to kill people with your tears.”
“I would rather die than cry,” I say acidly.
“Yeah but the rest of us would be safe.” He puts the empty container down on the table. “If it ever comes up, don’t be a mind reader.”
Not if my life depended on it. “No fear, Parkman, I’m not going to steal your act.”
We fly to Oklahoma and pick up the rental car at the airport. They’ve done a real half-assed job cleaning it, there’s a condom wrapper in the well of the driver’s door. Huh, sexy.
Matt’s phone rings as he’s wrestling with the map.
“Hello? Oh... oh hi...”
Who needs to be a mind reader to hear the change in tone? Good job he never cheated on Janice, he’d be caught in seconds.
“Say hi to Mohinder for me,” I ask.
“Shut up,” he mutters. “No, not you, Audrey. Her and her sense of humour.”
God, I’m horny. Have to pick up some strange at the hotel. I did call ahead this time and get us a hotel, not some flea bitten motel with delusions of adequacy.
Matt’s leaning away, talking quietly into the phone. Thirty-eight is too damn old to be having hopeless crushes. At his age, hell at any age past thirty, a crush you’ll never see fulfilled should just a fun fantasy not something that well, crushes you.
Fucking romantic idealists. They set themselves up to be ground underfoot every time and they never learn.
“Okay, okay bye,” he says softly. He puts the phone away and glances toward me. “Not a single word.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Promises, promises,” he retorts.
We arrive a couple of hours after the latest robbery, lucky us.
“This is the third bank?” Matt asks. “How much money do they need?”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and unlock the car door. “Money to burn.”
“Funny, very witty.”
The locals watch us warily and the police chief starts by addressing Matt.
“Hey, McCloud, I’m not the fucking eye-candy. Look at me when you talk or I’ll make you, you clear?”
He gapes at me. “Ma’am did you threaten me?”
“No, bozo, a woman requiring fair treatment is not a threat. Would you like to try for a threat?”
“Okay!” Matt says quickly. “How about we look in the bank, yeah?”
“Fine, knock yourselves out,” the chief say. “Please.”
Not much to see in the bank, waste of time, no reason to hang about...
“Audrey will you please calm down!” Matt asks. “You’re wearing a groove in the floor.”
I don’t get anxiety attacks so I don’t know what that was. Besides annoying of course.
The smell of charred flesh is still heavy in the air. It’s unmistakable, unforgettable.
“How many dead?” I ask the local officer who’s trailed in with us.
“Four Ma’am uh...”
“Agent Hanson,” Matt murmurs, over his words.
The officer gives him a grateful look. “Four, Agent Hanson, and a dozen more injured. They weren’t putting up a fight or anything.”
“We’d like to see the surveillance material,” I say, as Matt wanders away. I learnt my lesson last time, let him wander and poke as the mood takes him.
“Yes, I’ll arrange for that. You’ll be wanting an incident room setting up?”
“Uh huh, at the local FBI office, send everything there.” He’s cute but that would shitting in my own nest and if I was going to do that I wouldn’t be starting with this kid.
“What’s your name officer?”
“Budd Brody.”
“Audrey,” Matt calls. “You got a second?”
He’s over by the vault, down on one knee.
“What’ve you got?” I lean back against the wall.
He taps a black smudge at the bottom of the vault. “A fingerprint.” He looks up at me. “Melted into the metal.”
“Jesus, really?” I kneel down on the floor next to him. “I thought abilities didn’t hurt the person?”
“That’s right, but there’s no sign of him being injured,” he says. “Just really... hot.”
“Hey!” I call to the officer. “Did you take this print already?”
He jogs over with the one of the forensics guys trailing behind.
“There are no prints,” the forensics guy drawls looking me up and down. “But you’re more than welcome to dust me.
“Drop your pants.”
Matt clamps a hand over his mouth, covering his sniggers, as Brody and my would-be suitor gape at me.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t buy what I haven’t seen, so show me the goods or get the fuck out of my face.”
“Give it up Chen,” Brody laughs.
Chen flushes red.
“Clit tease, now do some good and look at this fingerprint,” I order, tapping the bottom of the vault with the toe of my shoe.
We grab a hot dog from a vendor nearby and watch the road.
“It’s busy,” Matt notes. “But they weren’t disturbed. Nobody knew anything had happened until the bodies were found.”
He’s right, the road is five deep so how did nobody notice? “Why were they killed? Brody said the witnesses said the victims weren’t putting up a fight.”
“Oh, that one’s easy,” Matt says sourly. “It was fun. I read that file; there was no reason to kill the victims at the other scenes. How much money was taken?”
I steal one of his onions. “Not enough to bother with. Two days ago there was twice as much money in the vault. Either we’ve got some really sloppy bank robbers...”
“Or it’s about something other than the money,” he chimes in. “Why do you never have the simple ones?”
“That’s what the regular PD is for,” I say with a grin. “We don’t like you getting your pretty heads all mixed up with the complex stuff.”
“Huh,” he says, dabbing a smear of mustard from my lip. “Makes me wonder what brainy old you wants dumb pretty me for,” he says tartly.
“I’ve got to have someone to explain the difficult stuff to.”
Matt hands me his hot dog, digs a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and wanders over to the vendor. Five minutes later, he returns with two coffees.
He juggles the coffees to take his hot dog, finish it in two bites, and throw away the used wrapper. It always surprises me how graceful he is and how economical his movements are. I’ve been partnered with some clumsy oafs let me tell you, shoot themselves as soon as the perp, and always covered in stale coffee, ketchup, and cheese. Matt’s always beautifully turned out: no stains, no rips or holes. Matt actually dresses as if he’s proud to be a cop.
“If I can speak to some of the witnesses I might be able to get some sense of the perpetrators,” he suggests tentatively.
“Read their minds? I thought you just heard the voices?”
He shrugs and reddens. “Mohinder thinks I might be able to expand my ability to receive images as well. He found some records about mind readers in the Primatech files. No names or dates just the scientific stuff.”
“Oh, Mohinder thinks that, does he?” I ask.
He takes a sip of coffee. “Lucky me, I’m still interesting enough that they want to test me.” He gives me a warning look that says no way should I take that as an indication to amuse myself at his expense again.
“Well if you could pull an image from them that would be useful. But they were all in the throes of the screaming heebie jeebies and got dragged off to the hospital for sedation.”
“Huh,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “That’s a coincidence isn’t it?”
I throw away my hot dog wrapper and take my coffee from him. “You want to hear another one? There hasn’t been one of these robbery/murders in eight weeks. Before that they were once a month. Now within hours of us getting here there’s another one.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Paranoia or delusions of grandeur?”
“Delusions of grandeur sound far more fun,” I say. “Just tossing the thought out there.”
“I’m not touching that one,” he says archly, and bins his coffee cup. “Shall I go to the hospital and see these heebie jeebed witnesses?”
“Yeah, I’ll set up the incident room and kick ass until we get the rest of the evidence from the other crime scenes,” I say, smacking my lips. “Say hi to Mohinder when he calls.”
He makes an obscene gesture as he wanders away.
On the way back to the bank I practically crash into this guy; mid sixties, heavy built, face like an unhappy bloodhound and...
...what was I doing? Jesus, I really need to get my head back in the game. Concentrate Audrey, you were going back into the bank to see if Brody had turned up the surveillance tapes yet.
The local FBI office has been scaled down a lot recently but it’s still got everything we’ll need.
“Nobody’s going to blow us up are they?” Agent Fisher drawls, slouching to the room we’ll be using.
“Excuse me?”
He smirks at me, he’s handsome enough in a stretched out, tired kind of way. “Word on the wire is that a couple of months ago you arrested half a pair of killers and the other one blew up the FBI office to get him back.”
“Oh please, he didn’t blow it up.” I throw my jacket off to one side and power up one of the computers. “Why, you scared of getting your hands dirty Fisher?”
“Nah, I’ve been desk based for too long. A bit of excitement would suit me down to the ground.”
“Careful what you wish for.”
“You’re working with an LAPD detective?” he asks curiously. “What’s with that?”
“Sometimes you have to look outside the agency for specialised help. Now be a good boy and get out of my face.”
Parkman shows up just as the surveillance tapes finally arrive.
“You look like shit,” I observe. “No fun gawping at the pretty nurses? Or are you completely queer now?”
He rolls his eyes as several of our fellow agents glance in our direction. “You done? Or would you like to embarrass me some more?”
“Never be embarrassed of who you are, Matt,” I say, sitting back on the desk. “Be proud.”
“Screw you, Ma’am,” he says sweetly.
“So what did you get?” I ask as he cues up the surveillance tapes.
He glances back and lowers his voice. “Someone did a real number on them. Most of them don’t remember anything but an intense fear. A couple of them remember a flame and that’s it.”
“None of them remember anything about the perps? Nothing at all?” I ask incredulously.
“No,” he says, standing up. “Someone’s been in there.” He taps the side of his head. “Maybe in time I could do something but... I don’t know what I’m doing. I could cause all kinds of damage.”
I wave a hand and turn on the tape. “Nah, you did the right thing.”
Onscreen people are going through the usual motions of yelling at cashiers, queuing, talking loudly on phones. I scroll on until three men appear in the bottom corner. Two white, one black. The older white guy has his back to the camera, he’s heavy built and in casual clothes. He stays where he is, while the other two swagger around the bank. People start screaming before any sign of flames erupt from the white guy’s hands. An older, well-dressed couple are calm though, look like they’re talking to the older guy. Mr Hotstuff glances back at the older guy and sets them both on fire.
“That’s an execution,” Matt says quietly.
“Looks like.”
The other two murders look almost random. Hotstuff reeling around like a kid in a candy store. Torches a woman cowering under a desk, a man on the floor, then the older guy waves a hand and the fun times are over. The third man slams a fist right through the vault and wrenches it open. Huh, we thought they’d used some kind of drill.
“He’s in charge,” I say tapping the screen. “The older guy keeping with his back to the camera.”
“Look,” Matt says, pointing at the window just visible. “These people are obviously screaming their heads off, so why’re people outside just wandering past obliviously?”
“Good question.”
“Tapes from the other crime scenes turn up yet?” Matt asks.
“Nah, tomorrow. The video lab is pulling off shots of Mr Hotsuff and his punchy pal,” I say. “We’ll get them sharpened enough to be recognisable and then circulated, shame this guy is so shy,” I gesture at the older guy.
“Some people just have no sense of fair play,” Matt says airily.
I check my watch. “It’s late, you want to get something to eat?”
“You ever see Janice?” I ask, as he makes inroads into some kind of fish soup.
“Hmm? No,” he says casually and then looks at me. “You know that the baby wasn’t mine?”
“I figured.” If Matt Parkman would turn away from his kid without so much as a second thought then he’s not the man I thought he was.
He sighs quietly and has a sip of his wine. “I’d love to have kids some day.”
“Yeah, you’ll be one of those disgustingly adorable dads,” I charge, pointing a fork at him. “Going to all the Little League games and helping them learn their lines in the school play.”
Matt shrugs and chases a shrimp around his bowl with the spoon. “It’s just a fantasy.”
“Oh please, you’re young enough. Guys don’t get the same cut-off women do.”
“Audrey, come on. I can’t even get a date. I know that I could marry some sweet but dim twenty year-old and knock her up but I don’t want to. I want someone I can have a proper conversation with, someone with interests and a career, and I can’t even start conversations with people like that.”
“You could adopt,” I suggest. “Worry about finding some smart, ambitious man or woman afterwards.”
“I can barely look after myself. I don’t even have a place to live,” he says sourly. He looks up and frowns when the chunk of bread bounces off his shoulder. “Audrey!”
“Cheer the fuck up! You’re never going to bang Mohinder with that kind of attitude. Positive thinking!”
“You are telling me to use positive thinking?” he asks disbelievingly. “Who are you and where’s the real Audrey?”
“Don’t call me okay?” I say, as we walk into the hotel. “Unless it’s an emergency.”
Matt looks at me. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.” I turn to the receptionist on the desk. “Where’s the bar?”
“Down on the right.”
“Oh god,” Matt groans. “You’re on the prowl! Be careful!”
“I’m a big girl and I know what I’m doing.”
Hotel bars are always full of bored, lonely people. The trick is avoiding the married ones but apart from that, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Get a drink, sit at a table, wait. I bin off the slick guy, no thanks, in favour of the quieter less assured teacher in town for a conference. Decent face, okay body, pretty good sex.
Jesus, I hate men who cry after sex. See a therapist already.
He gets a little huffy when I leave right after but he’ll get over it.
In the morning, Matt’s bleary eyed and confused over his scrambled eggs and toast.
“What’s up with you?”
“Late night,” he admits. “You’re not looking like you got that much sleep either.”
“I got enough, once I got to my own room,” I say cheerfully. “I was...”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I think anyone looking at you can tell what you were doing.”
“Smart ass. What were you doing?”
Matt shrugs and plays with his fork. “Mohinder rang up.”
“Phone sex?”
He glares at me. “No! We just talked.”
“For how long?”
“Four or five hours,” he mutters.
Four or five hours? These are supposed to be men not thirteen year-old school girls. “What the fuck could you find to talk about for five hours?”
“Just because you can’t communicate doesn’t mean other people can’t,” he says, scowling at me.
“I communicate well enough to get someone into bed without months of angsting over it.”
“Yeah, and do you even remember his name?”
“Why would I want to?”
Matt snorts and shrugs. “I can’t imagine.”
“I want to look at those other crime scene reports today as well as hopefully getting the pictures of the perps out there.”
He nods and takes a bite of his eggs. “Even the guy with his back to the camera?”
“You never know.”
“They’re either getting sloppy or they’ve been lucky before. There weren’t any pictures of their faces before,” he remarks.
“I’m betting lucky, those two grandstanding didn’t strike me as the methodical type.”
Matt drums his fingers on the desk. “Mohinder was going to look through the files and find any references to intense fear he could find as well as pyrokinesis.”
“That’s peachy him. What the hell is pyrokinesis?”
He waves a hand vaguely. “Making fire. Apparently the blue flame means it’s really hot.”
“Come on, let’s go buy a couple of fire extinguishers on the way.”
The pictures of the younger guys are clear enough someone should recognise them.
“I’ve spun through the other tapes,” Matt says, stretching. “Or what there is. As soon as they walked into the bank Mr Hotstuff melted the cameras.”
“Still think I’m paranoid?”
“You think this is a specific attempt to get our attention? Yeah, I think you’re paranoid. An attempt to get a higher amount of police attention, sure.” He taps on the desk. “Have we checked if there have been any similar murders outside of banks?”
“Similar enough to raise questions,” I say. “An Angela Petrelli in New York, robbed in her penthouse and torched, a Kaito Nakamura likewise in Japan... what?”
He stares at me. “Angela Petrelli is Peter and Nathan’s mother and that Hiro kid, the time traveller, he’s Nakamura.”
“Time traveller?”
“What were the names of the people murdered yesterday?” he asks, scrabbling in the paperwork. “Here we go, Harry Fletcher, John Sussman, Paula Gramble, and Marie Hernandez. The first two, the ones that seemed to be the primary targets, were Fletcher and Gramble.”
“Those names ring any bells?”
“No, I’ll run them through the official databases and ask Mohinder.”
“We’re going to have to put him on the damn payroll at this rate,” I say.
“I don’t know anyone else with access to that kind of data,” Matt says stiffly. “Bennet, I suppose.”
“Bennet’s not nearly as pretty. Not that he doesn’t have a certain... something,” I admit. “Now explain to me how this time travel thing works?”
Matt’s white when I wander back into the office. “Hey, Gramble, Fletcher and the others are all down as founding members of Primatech Paper, how fucking coincidental is that?”
He just looks at me blankly.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Someone die?”
“No. I rang up to speak to Mohinder and his assistant said... he’s been abducted. From his apartment in the early hours of the morning they think. Traffic cameras in the street outside his apartment showed him being carried into a van by two men.” He holds up two printouts. “It’s them, Audrey, our bank robbers and they’ve got Mohinder.”
End of Part One
Part Two
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-09-12 05:19 am (UTC)(THANK YOU!)
no subject
Date: 2009-09-12 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-12 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-13 02:15 pm (UTC)