Perfect Pearls

[amles80]

Title: Perfect Pearls
Fandom: Heroes
Character: Emile Danko
Rating/Genre: PG/gen
Genre: Introspective
Promt: “ The Collector” by NIN, drabble challenge # 19 @heroes_contest
Summary: Danko is collecting triumphs, but can he triumph over Angela Petrelli? (Based on the oyster scene in “Shades of Gray”, Season 3. An illustration to the fic: Wine With Oysters)
Word count: 379
Notes: Oh, what these prompts are doing… I never thought I’d write something Danko-centric!!


Damn that woman. I swear, I will hunt her down and destroy her, I will haunt her like the plague, and then she won’t smile anymore.

Look at how she was sitting there, with those disgusting greyish oyster shells in her hands. Slurp. She swallowed without chewing, one after the other. Slurp. And oysters, of things! But she held them in her hands looking so pleased as if she had found a perfect pearl in each shell.

She’s got nothing to take pride in. Her oldest son? Nathan Petrelli is a nobody. He doesn’t even know himself how big a nobody he is. He would want to rule the world. Forgive me if I laugh! It has been clear to me for quite some time now that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

At first I thought that he knew. I could have followed a man to the end of the world if he had been worthy of following. But he turned out to be a loser.

Bennet is a loser too. Hard working and loyal perhaps; that’s what he looks like. A man who follows orders, but that’s because he hasn’t got the brains or nerves to do anything else. All he cares about is the blonde little brat. I suppose she feels the same way, as she’s supposedly the brat’s grandmother. Can’t see why they’re all so concerned about the girl.

And the girl is one of them, isn’t she! ‘But Claire must be safe, can’t hurt her…’ She’s the exception.

The blonde brat is the link between Bennet and Petrelli. Who knows what else they share. Who knows what they’re not telling me. They could all be like that. All the Petrellis… And Bennet, too? They’re everywhere, these people. There are so goddamn many of them.

And she, the way that she looked at me - as if she expected me to open my mouth and swallow her lies just like she swallowed the ridiculous oysters.

But she knew that I’d rather choke than swallow anything; she knew, and she looked at me with commanding, knowing eyes, as if she was a medieval queen and I ought to bow down before here.

But I refuse to do that.

I’m going to hunt down and collect every last one of them.
.