Thread: Heroes: Emergent (IC)

1130 AM, London, England Daniel Anderson looked like any young man walking the streets. His attire was casual, simple jeans and a t-shirt, a grey hoodie open to his belt and nothing about him that would scream 'look at me!', but he was very extraordinary. Just that morning he had landed at Heathrow Airport and helped the very inebriated and very famous passengers crawl to their limousine. It was odd Daniel could fly anyone anywhere that his chartering company sent him, but he couldn't go home. Home was Los Angeles, but he hadn't been there in much too long. What was it? Almost ten years? He wondered briefly how his family was doing, but then he shoved that thought to the back of his head. They were better off without him. As he walked through the crowded streets he accidentally bumped into... someone. He glanced around, confused for a moment, before continuing to the Community Service site where he was to deliver an envelope to the chief counselor there, a 'Mr. Thompson'. Daniel glanced at the envelope in his hands. It wasn't unusual for his charter company to deliver things, instead of people, but normally one of the security guards did it. Today Daniel was running the errand simply because the guard assigned today had broken out in some strange hives and had to be sent home. When he got to the center one of the secretaries pointed him to the office. Inside, Daniel could see a chubby, unkempt man talking to a girl dressed in orange. The man must have been Mr. Thompson. The girl looked slightly amused, as if she had remembered a joke that she heard yesterday. Her strong cheekbones and the exotic tilt to her eyes made Daniel smile. There was something about her that stirred him. Mr. Thompson was in the middle of berating Beatrix when he noticed the man hovering outside. Fuck. He got up and slammed the door open, upset to be disturbed as he was just beginning to fantasize the girl's mouth around his cock. What the 'ell do you want? Daniel seemed nonplussed at the language. Are you Bernard Thompson? Who fucking wants to know? The man sneered. He looked Daniel over. The 'kid' looked harmless, in a fashion-model way, and Thompson hated models. Daniel smiled and handed him the envelope. You've been served , Mr. Thompson. --- --- --- 3PM, New York City Angela Petrelli lounged in her chair, watching the way her youngest son paced back and forth in the lush, penthouse office they shared. You really must stop fighting it Peter. We need more help, and she's been selected as the most likely to benefit the company. Peter looked up from the file he was reading. He stopped in his tracks and considered his mother. It's always about the company, Mother. This is what we were trying to avoid. Don't you remember how it was before the war? We're going right back to everything that we fought against. It's for the best. She paused to take a sip of the white wine that she was holding in her hands. It was always wine time for Angela. She had to dull the conflicting images and thoughts that seemed to come more and more unbidden in her mind. Just... just do it, okay Petey? Why? Because he says to? He's your brother. He's NOT my brother. He's unstable. This whole idea of yours... it's falling apart! He slammed the file onto the table and a picture of a beautiful blond woman in a black tennis dress slid out. I can feel this like a noose around my neck, Mother. This is going to get us all killed. Angela sighed. You have a plane seat booked, Peter. I expect you to make contact with her by noon tomorrow. She set her glass down. This is very important. Just do it for me. Peter shook his head, his hands on his slim hips. I want you to remember that I was against this from the start, he said to her. He picked up the file again and looked at it. Elizabeth Gordon . Alright. I'll do it, but if she says 'no' then that's it. Let her go. People deserve to have their own lives. Of course, Peter. Angela smiled as her son left the room. Then she shook her head. Naive boy.