Gilded Genesis :: Chapter 7 :: Homecoming
Title: Gilded Genesis :: Chapter 7 :: Homecoming
Author: rebelle_elle
Artist: therisingmoon
Word Count: 5,022
Rating: PG
Type: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Elle Bishop, Lyle, Bennet, Jackie Wilcox, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet, Samson Gray, Gabriel Gray, Rene, Eden McCain, Noah Bennet
Warnings (sexual context, non-con, violence, strong language, characters death, etc) None
Summary:
Not everyone can get what they want.
The first thing Elle noticed as she stepped out of her rental car was the noise; she could see the stadium lights behind the high school, but even from this distance, the drums from the band made the ground shake, and the blaring brass set her teeth on edge. She could barely hear the beep of her car locking. She grimaced to herself and told herself that if nothing else, the noise would cover the sound of a screaming cheerleader.
She fell in with a group of people dressed in gold and maroon as they headed through the gates, stopping at a table to purchase her ticket. She took a dollar from her back pocket, duplicated it, and put the original back in her pocket as if she had taken out too much money. How had she ever lived before stealing people’s abilities?
“Are you a Union Wells alumnus?” one of the women at the table asked.
Elle smiled brightly and pumped her fist in the air. “Go, Wildcats!”
Moments later, she was armed with a gold and scarlet ribbon proclaiming her to be an alumnus. Elle marveled at the abject stupidity of common people and made her way to the football field in good spirits. Get Jackie Wilcox alone, kill her, and then live forever.
She found a seat in the stands and idly watched the football players maul one another for people’s entertainment. As far as she could see, the only value football held was watching men run around in tight pants, which made her question what everyone around her was really cheering for. Didn’t they know most of these kids were underage, if not all of them?
She pulled out a photo she’d gotten of Jackie from the internet and studied the cheerleaders. Where was she?
“Oh. She’s not out yet.”
Elle looked in surprise at the boy behind her, his mop of red hair falling in his eyes. “What?”
“Jackie.” He pointed at the picture in her hand. “The ‘Hero Cheerleader,’ right? Yeah, she’s still getting ready. She’s kind of a prima donna.”
“Really?” Elle pressed, always happy to listen to gossip. “I thought she’d be better, since, you know, she’s a hero and all.”
The boy shrugged. “She’s full of hot air. You ask me? Real heroes don’t try to get as much attention as she gets.”
Elle shifted in her seat to get a better look at him. “Aren’t you kind of young to think about things like that?” And worse, have a point? That had never occurred to her, how someone with the ability to survive being burned alive might not want anyone to know. She felt rather stupid now. But then, Elle hadn’t announced her abilities to the world, either. Just using them to get more abilities…
He frowned and lifted his chin. “I’m a freshman, not a middle-schooler.”
Oh, that explained it, Elle thought sarcastically. Teenagers always knew so much more than everyone else.
She set her hand on his knee. “Got a name, freshman?”
He stared down at her hand on his knee but didn’t pull away. “Lyle.”
Elle smiled. “Well, Lyle. Thanks for giving me something to think about.” She stood and pocketed the photo.
“You’re leaving? It’s only the second quarter. There’s going to be a halftime show.” He shrugged and tried to look cooler and more mature than his years would allow. “I mean, what Union Wells calls a halftime show.”
Her smile grew. “I wouldn’t miss it. But first I’ve got to see to something. Be right back.” He nodded, and she headed down the stairs. If Jackie Wilcox couldn’t actually heal, why would she lie? Or was this whole thing a dud?
Or was Jackie Wilcox just covering for someone else?
Elle reached the path that wound around the football field and looked around. Where would a lying, cheating cheerleader hide?
She saw a couple girls emerge from what looked like a gym building and grinned to herself. She’d come to Nowheresville, Texas looking for a new superpower. She wasn’t leaving until she got it.
On the way, she smiled as she passed a man in a beige trenchcoat who didn’t seem to realize he was wearing a trenchcoat at a football game. He was cute, but she could have improved his looks with a haircut. Pity there were more important things to take care of. Maybe she’d meet up with him later and flirt a little.
Peter headed to the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd for the cheerleader from Isaac’s paintings. Blond cheerleader with green eyes, blond cheerleader with green eyes… Most of these girls looked like they had blond hair, but their faces weren’t round enough. Nearly all of them had their hair up in ponytails, too, whereas the girl in Isaac’s paintings had her hair down in loose curls.
He frowned to himself. This would be easier if Hiro had met him here like they’d agreed. Peter had thought Hiro was as idealistic as he was himself, that Hiro would definitely show up. He’d seemed so enthusiastic over the phone, and Hiro’s future self had seemed so determined.
Or maybe Hiro’s future self was determined because Hiro, and maybe Peter, too, had failed to save the cheerleader the first time around?
Peter bit his lip. Never mind that for now. The important thing was to find the cheerleader and keep her safe. Save the cheerleader, save the world. Sure, it sounded cheesy, but at least he knew what he had to do.
And if he could survive the night, so much the better.
The cheerleader was obviously nowhere on the football field, and Peter leaned against the fence as he dug out pictures of Isaac’s paintings. He’d already studied them to death on the plane, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe he had missed something.
Peter was too busy flipping through the pictures to notice the woman beside him glance at the photos. She froze and slowly looked up at him with an appalled expression. She followed his eyes as he looked at the cheerleaders, studying each one, and cleared her throat angrily.
His eyes widened, and he slipped the photos back into his pocket. He forced a smile as he tried to explain. Realizing that there was no way to explain this, and that he must look like a sexual predator or something, he settled on, “Sorry. It’s- It’s not what you think.”
Keeping her steely-eyed gaze on him, she drew out her cell phone and very slowly punched in three numbers before holding the phone up to her ear.
“Sorry,” Peter repeated, holding up his hands in surrender as he walked backward. She was still on the phone when he entered a crowd of people and lost sight of her.
Okay, so the football field was probably a no-go. He’d have to look elsewhere.
He waited until he was farther away this time before looking again at the pictures before mentally kicking himself. All of the paintings save the one of him looked like they took place in one of the school buildings.
Looking around to see if the woman was about to sic anyone on him, he headed toward a door in one of the buildings.
Jackie glared at the woman in front of her. The blonde looked young enough and short enough to still be in high school, and if this was a trick by those losers they were playing tonight to mess with the cheerleading squad, she’d march out there and punch each of the visiting cheerleaders in the face. “Excuse me?”
“No, really. I think it’s adorable how you think you’re special. There’s really nothing up there, is there?” She tapped Jackie’s forehead and smiled. “But we both know you’re not special, Jackie. So who are you covering for?”
Jackie frowned at her. Okay. Maybe not from the other school. Maybe a reporter who was trying to expose her? As if she’d even done anything wrong. All the cheerleaders had been under suspicion for breaking into a crime scene or whatever. Jackie had just taken the hit for the person. And if they’d really cared, they would have come forward themselves. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled. “Elle Bishop.”
Jackie didn’t pretend to look impressed. “I mean, who are you with? What network? Magazine?”
The woman - Elle, if that was her real name, but she’d heard reporters worked undercover sometimes - looked offended. “Just tell me who actually saved that man’s life and I’ll go, okay?”
Jackie forced a laugh. “I saved him!”
“Wow. You lie almost as well as you fit into that outfit.”
The forced laugh cut off. “Meaning?”
“What do you think I mean? I see the thickness isn’t all in your legs.”
“You fu-”
Both of them whipped their heads toward the door as another cheerleader entered. This one was shorter than Jackie, with her hair falling in long curls. “Jackie. Hey. Can I talk to you?”
“Sorry,” Elle said quietly. “I shouldn’t have called you thick. Can’t really call you that after seeing her.”
Jackie shoved past Elle. “C’mon, Claire. Let’s talk outside.” Though she wanted to focus on getting back at Claire for punching her earlier, she wanted to get away from this bitch more. Something about Elle’s smile bothered her. It wasn’t right that the woman should look so comfortable and… what?
The next thing Jackie knew, air was rushing past her face. She barely had time to see the wall before she hit it and fell to the ground, fiery pain running through her body. She gasped for breath, whimpering at how much the effort hurt her. She tried to push herself up but couldn’t move.
She closed her eyes. She could feel panic welling up within her. Jackie was going to end up like that Superman guy or the wife of that guy running for office in New York, she just knew it. How did they even have sex?
Tears clouded her vision, and she blinked them away as a shadow fell across her. “Hello?” she whispered. She could barely make out a pair of black shoes, and black slacks...
“You really aren’t special, are you?”
A whine started deep in her throat, moving gradually higher. She felt something on her head, as if he were stroking her hair, and before she could scream or cuss him out, everything went dark.
“What are you doing?” Claire stared at the woman standing across from her, her hand lifted, fingers splayed apart, almost as if Claire were a puppet on strings, stuck tight against the wall.
“I’m standing far enough away that I don’t get your blood on me. That’s the worst part about killing people, you know. The bloodstains.”
“You- You can’t kill me,” Claire stammered. The woman couldn’t seriously mean to kill her, could she? Claire didn’t even understand why it upset her so much - it wasn’t as if she hadn’t killed herself before. But she’d always been the one in control, and now she was a foot off the ground, her back pressed against the wall, and unable to move.
“Maybe I can. I don’t know. Though it would be fun to try.” The woman moved closer, concentrating on Claire’s forehead as if she could see through it. Suddenly she smiled and fell back again. “This might sting a little.”
Claire felt something on her forehead, almost like a fingernail poking her above her left eye. Before she had time to think about what was happening, the feeling exploded into a burst of pain, a shard of glass tearing apart her skin, scraping through her bone. She heard herself scream, but it barely registered through the pain.
And then the pain faded, slowly at first and then faster as her body hurried to heal itself. She was vaguely aware of a man in a black coat asking if she were all right and telling her that she had a- “What?”
“I said you have a remarkable gift, young lady.” He smiled, and Claire’s heart sank as he pointed a finger at her skull.
Peter spun as he heard a scream, running in the direction of the sound. “HELLO?” he shouted. Was he too late? He came to a T-section and looked both ways. “HELLO?” He shook his bangs out of his way and turned around. What if he had heard the echoes wrong and had run in the wrong direction?
Wait. What had that been?
He turned to look down a hallway. Was that a voice? It sounded almost like- That was someone crying, right? Not just the wind playing tricks on him. He heard it again and ran toward the sound, slowing down when he saw the crumpled body. Somewhere in his mind, he noticed that the girl was wearing a cheerleading uniform. He dropped to his knees beside her, gently running his hands over her neck and shoulder, not daring to move her after seeing the angle of her neck. She had a ponytail. That wasn’t right. Not the cheerleader he was looking for, then. What the hell was going on? How many cheerleaders were in danger at this school? “Hey, it’s okay. I’m a nurse. I’m here to help you. You’re going to be fine, I just need you to stay calm for me, okay?”
The girl sniffled. “Help me.”
“I will. Can you tell me what happened?”
She took a shuddering breath. “Claire...”
“Hi, Claire. I’m Peter.”
The girl closed her eyes. “No!” Her voice was quiet and broke even on that little word, but her exasperation was plain as she shakily managed to point at the locker room door. “Claire!”
Peter twisted to look over his shoulder, realization dawning. “Don’t worry. I’ll save her.”
He pushed himself to his feet, his eyes focused on the door. Now that he thought about it, this was incredibly stupid. Hiro could stop time, but what could Peter do? He could paint the future, sometimes he could fly. Almost. Or at least, so he thought. And now he was going up against a super-powered murderer with... nothing. Nothing but the knowledge that he had to save the cheerleader, or terrible things would happen in the future.
His heart pounding, Peter threw himself at the door, spotting a blond girl - woman? - crumpled on the floor in front of him, splattered with blood.
Something flew at him, and he barely got his hand in front of his face before the trash can hit him. He shoved it away and stared wide-eyed at the two men who were standing in the ruins of some lockers. Twisted metal was scattered around them, some of it floating in the air.
“Run!” One of the men shouted. He was tall, wearing khakis, a plaid shirt, and thick glasses. The man with his back to Peter was only slightly taller than Peter himself, wearing a large black coat and a black fedora.
There was a blur of movement to his right, and Peter barely caught the girl in the cheerleading uniform before she staggered into him. He steadied her by the arms, his instincts as a nurse taking over as he checked her for injuries. She was bloody, but he couldn’t see the wounds. “You okay?”
She raised her head, and his heart skipped a beat. Blonde hair down in curls, frightened green eyes... She looked exactly like the girl from Isaac’s painting. Claire. This was Claire, wasn’t it?
Something shoved them toward the door, and he gasped as he saw a stream of blue fire nearly hit his face.
“RUN!” the man repeated, throwing a chunk of twisted metal at the man in black.
Peter grabbed the girl’s arm, clumsily throwing open the door and shoving her out into the hall. He staggered after her, slipping a bit in a small pool of blood.
She yelled and fell to her knees beside the girl on the floor. “Jackie!”
“Don’t!” He pushed her arms down before she could touch Jackie. “Her neck’s hurt. If you move her, you might paralyze her, okay? We need to get help. We need to get you safe!”
“But what about her?”
“And you can’t help her if you’re dead, too. Come on!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall. Where could they go that was safe?
Elle stirred, wondering why it smelled like hell. And felt like hell. Or was that just her?
“I can’t let you do it!” That voice, familiar...
“Stand down, son. You might think you’re ready to go up against your old man, but-” There was a burst of bright light, and Elle closed her eyes tightly, holding a hand over her eyes. “There are still some things you need to learn.”
She rolled over. Right. The... What did they call those places? Locker rooms? In freaking Texas. She’d been after that cheerleader, and this man had come in and hurt her... Elle frowned. She took that personally...
There was a shout, and she watched several objects fall. She felt loose, absent, as if she were watching a movie. And then she saw Gabriel on the ground, clutching his stomach. For one brief moment, their eyes met, and she knew instantly that he’d lied to her. He’d had an ability all along. He’d only been after her for her ability. Just like Frank…
“Oh, look who’s up.”
The man’s face was lost in shadow, but a lack of light had never been much of an issue for her. Without a word, she flicked her wrist, the blast of lightning sending the man flying off his feet. Her TK sent twisted pieces of metal after him, speeding for his heart. How dare they? How many more people were going to treat her like a thing? How many of them were going to use her?
“NO!”
She turned to face Gabriel, a ball of lightning growing in her hands. “What? But Gabriel, I thought you liked me so much you’d let me do anything!”
“He’s my father,” he grated. He lifted a finger, and Elle nearly shocked him until he met her eyes again. The man shook on the ground, twisting as if he couldn’t breathe. Once his eyes shut, his body went still, and Gabriel lowered his hand. “I couldn’t let him kill her.”
“The cheerleader?”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve been killing people, Elle. You’re too-”
“Too what? Too cute? I hate that.”
“Too perfect,” he said, more quietly. He shoved himself to his feet, but she could see the way he weaved from side to side, unsure of his balance.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re not a killer, Elle.”
She smirked, even though it was forced. “C’mon, Gabriel Gabriel Gray. Didn’t you get the memo?” Behind him, part of a wooden bench rose in the air. “I’m the killer of the year.”
“I don’t beli-”
She watched him fall and tossed the bench back against the wall. He looked almost cute like that. Somehow, he had a greater air of competence when he was unconscious.
Using Frank’s ability, she peered into their skulls to see what they had, frowning when she got to the old man. No immortality, but it seemed he’d been taking many of the abilities she had passed up. “I’ll be talking to you later, you bastard.”
But for right now, she had a cheerleader to find.
It didn’t take long for Peter to get lost as Claire led him through the corridors. “I’m sorry I made you leave your friend.”
“No, I get it. She can’t move. Even if I cut myself, I’d heal before I could give her any of my blood.” She scoffed at herself, glancing into the shadows in justified paranoia. “I don’t even know if that would work.”
“I thought she was the one who saved that fireman.”
She shook her head. “No. But she likes attention. I thought it best to let her have it, you know?”
He nodded. “I think that’s admirable.”
She looked at him with a hint of a smile. A sad smile, he thought. “Really? I mean, it wasn’t like- I just don’t want to be any more of a freak than I already-”
Peter held a hand up, tilting his head. What had that been? A building noise, or something else?
“You know, when running from the person who’s determined to kill you, it’s usually a good idea not to leave a blood trail.”
They looked at one another, then behind them, where vague bloody shoeprints disappeared around the corner. Standing over the trail was- What the hell? Was that the woman from earlier? He’d thought she’d just been another victim!
“Who-”
“Run!” Claire grabbed his hand and staggered as a bolt of lightning hit her in the back.
“I don’t think so,” the woman continued, walking forward. “You think I want to run in heels?”
Peter pulled Claire behind a flight of stairs and led the way up. If they ran fast enough, the woman below wouldn’t be able to see what direction they went in at the top of the stairs; it was their one chance to escape. And if heading upstairs meant they were that much closer to making Isaac’s vision of the future a reality, then maybe Peter would at least be able to get Claire out safely. “Who the hell is that?”
Once they got to the top of the stairs, she pulled him down another hall. Peter got a glimpse of the football stadium lights through a window, but it did little to tell him where they were. “She was trying to kill me.”
“I thought the guy was trying to-”
“He was trying to kill me, too.”
“Is everybody trying to kill you?”
She glanced at him as they ran. There was another one of those sad smiles. “Not everyone.”
He flashed her a grin. She meant him. He was helping her. Maybe he could be a hero after-
He shouted as he left the ground. For a second, he thought he was flying, but he couldn’t move his arms or legs. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the girl suspended in the air beside him.
“You guys,” the woman whined. “It’s no fun when you run so much. And you stained my clothes, you little bitch.”
“Good!”
The woman tsked and turned them around to face her. Now that Peter could see her properly, he was surprised at how small and... clean she was. Beneath the blood, her clothes were new, her nails manicured... Part of her hair was matted in blood where she had lain in it.
He met her eyes and saw she’d been studying him, too. She smiled.
“I’ll get to you in a minute. I can’t put a finger on what yours does, but I will.” She turned to Claire and held up her other hand, and Peter watched out of the corner of his eye as Claire’s forehead was slowly ripped open.
“NO!” Peter yelled, struggling as Claire screamed. “NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!” He strained against the telekinesis as her blood fell to the floor. She was whimpering now, and Peter’s sense of helplessness and anger grew.
He screamed again, wordless and desperate. Blue flames burst to life in his hands, craning for the woman, and she jumped back with a shout.
Peter and Claire fell to the floor. He hurried over to her, one hand still glowing blue. He didn’t understand how he was doing it, but he would take whatever he could get to keep the woman away. He could see her through the flame, watching him for some sign of weakness, and he threw a ball of fire at her like he’d seen the men in the locker room do.
He moved closer to Claire. At first, he thought she was dead. But after a moment, she gasped and floundered as she sat up. She looked around, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes before looking at the blood on the floor around her. He watched in awe as the gash on her forehead started to stitch itself back together. Before long, the only sign it had been there at all was a blood stain. “You can heal?”
“MINE!” The woman leapt forward, and Peter felt the now-familiar tug of telekinesis and waved his fiery hand in front of her face. He glanced around, seeing the window behind them.
Okay. If that was the way it had to be.
“C’mon.” He helped Claire to her feet before running to the window. He killed the flames and grabbed a desk. “You trust me?”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot and looked back to the woman, who was walking toward them again, wary, holding balls of lightning. “Hurry.”
Peter was already banging the desk against the window. There was a crack. Another hit, five more. “She won’t kill you around people, okay? So after this, run to the field.” He shouted as he hit the window again and saw the woman lift a hand out of the corner of his eye. He turned and threw the desk as hard as he could, not pausing as he grabbed Claire’s arm and threw himself against the glass. For a second, he thought it wouldn’t give, and he felt like a moron. Then it suddenly gave, and he was falling, the cement rising up to meet him. Isaac’s vision of the future was going to come true after all.
He wrapped his arms around Claire, hoping he’d break the impact enough she could run without waiting to heal. At least she’d make it out alive.
The last thing Peter remembered, there was a sickening crunch he’d instantly known were his bones breaking. He didn’t feel anything at the time, but now that someone was hitting him, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He groaned and coughed, tasting blood. He rolled over to spit it out.
“Hey! You okay? You’re- You just jumped out of a building!”
He pushed himself up with an arm and pulled back his bangs to look at her. Claire. The cheerleader. The cheerleader he had just saved. “I’m alive?”
“You’re crazy!” She shoved him in the chest, and Peter was surprised that it didn’t hurt more. “I thought you were going to die!”
“I- I thought I was, too.” He looked at his hand as the broken bones slid back into place.
“You really thought you were going to die?” She moved to block him from sight as some high school kids ran over, glaring at them until they stopped several yards away. Not that they had much choice; it looked like glass had exploded all over the place. They were probably looking after their shoes.
Peter wiggled his fingers. “Yeah. Didn’t you?” He flashed her a grin and held out his hand. “Peter.”
“Claire.” Her head popped up as they heard sirens, and she scowled. “About time they got here.”
Elle heard the sirens and kept her head down. She replayed the situation in her head over and over again. More telekinesis, more lightning, more something. But in the end, she’d been afraid she’d be spotted by people on the street. Just three more minutes. No, just one more minute, and she could be immortal right now. If she hadn’t stopped to watch how the regeneration worked...
Ugh. She had to stop thinking about what-ifs. She’d go back to her hotel, get cleaned up, and work out another way to get to that girl. Find out her name, for starters.
“Hi.”
Elle drew up sharply, nearly running over a short woman with the dark pixie cut. “Excuse you,” she snapped.
The woman just smiled. “Aren’t you feeling sleepy? You are, aren’t you. Very, very sleepy.”
Elle tried to fight off a yawn. “What-”
“Just close your eyes and go to sleep. We’ll take care of you.”
Noah opened the doors of their van, stepping out and easily picking up the woman covered in his daughter’s blood. He tossed her in the back and injected her with a sedative strong enough to keep her out until they reached the Company. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” Eden hesitated. “I thought it would be harder.”
“She likely didn’t think you were a threat.” He turned the woman’s face and looked at her wordlessly. Elle Bishop. He remembered having Gabriel question her months ago. How had they missed this? How had Noah missed this?
He turned to Rene and gave him a nod. Rene nodded back and headed off into the crowd. By morning, no one but the three of them would remember what had happened. And Elle Bishop, of course, but since she’d never see the light of day again, she didn’t count.
When Gabriel came to, he was alone. He pushed himself to his feet, wondering who had hit him from behind. Had it been his father? Elle?
He groaned and clutched his head as he heard sirens outside, the pain receding as he realized what it meant. He had to get out of here, or else everyone at the Company would think he’d tried to kill Claire. Noah would murder him.
He opened the door to find himself face to face with Rene. He froze. Through the years, he had learned to be wary of Rene. None of his abilities ever seemed to work around the man, and whenever he couldn’t remember something, he had to wonder...
Rene stared him down, unmoving. “The girl?”
“Claire? I think she’s safe. Dad got knocked out, and a guy came and helped Claire get away.” He licked his lips. “And there was a woman. Elle Bishop.”
“We have her.” Rene was silent, and Gabriel glanced in the direction of the sirens. How much time did he have? “I will take care of your father. Go.” He moved to the side, his face still immobile.
Gabriel didn’t stop to ask questions. He had to get back home without the Company being the wiser. He had to find a way to stop his father.
Link to fic master post: here
Link to art master post: here
Chapter Six
Author: rebelle_elle
Artist: therisingmoon
Word Count: 5,022
Rating: PG
Type: Gen
Characters/Pairings: Elle Bishop, Lyle, Bennet, Jackie Wilcox, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet, Samson Gray, Gabriel Gray, Rene, Eden McCain, Noah Bennet
Warnings (sexual context, non-con, violence, strong language, characters death, etc) None
Summary:
Not everyone can get what they want.
The first thing Elle noticed as she stepped out of her rental car was the noise; she could see the stadium lights behind the high school, but even from this distance, the drums from the band made the ground shake, and the blaring brass set her teeth on edge. She could barely hear the beep of her car locking. She grimaced to herself and told herself that if nothing else, the noise would cover the sound of a screaming cheerleader.
She fell in with a group of people dressed in gold and maroon as they headed through the gates, stopping at a table to purchase her ticket. She took a dollar from her back pocket, duplicated it, and put the original back in her pocket as if she had taken out too much money. How had she ever lived before stealing people’s abilities?
“Are you a Union Wells alumnus?” one of the women at the table asked.
Elle smiled brightly and pumped her fist in the air. “Go, Wildcats!”
Moments later, she was armed with a gold and scarlet ribbon proclaiming her to be an alumnus. Elle marveled at the abject stupidity of common people and made her way to the football field in good spirits. Get Jackie Wilcox alone, kill her, and then live forever.
She found a seat in the stands and idly watched the football players maul one another for people’s entertainment. As far as she could see, the only value football held was watching men run around in tight pants, which made her question what everyone around her was really cheering for. Didn’t they know most of these kids were underage, if not all of them?
She pulled out a photo she’d gotten of Jackie from the internet and studied the cheerleaders. Where was she?
“Oh. She’s not out yet.”
Elle looked in surprise at the boy behind her, his mop of red hair falling in his eyes. “What?”
“Jackie.” He pointed at the picture in her hand. “The ‘Hero Cheerleader,’ right? Yeah, she’s still getting ready. She’s kind of a prima donna.”
“Really?” Elle pressed, always happy to listen to gossip. “I thought she’d be better, since, you know, she’s a hero and all.”
The boy shrugged. “She’s full of hot air. You ask me? Real heroes don’t try to get as much attention as she gets.”
Elle shifted in her seat to get a better look at him. “Aren’t you kind of young to think about things like that?” And worse, have a point? That had never occurred to her, how someone with the ability to survive being burned alive might not want anyone to know. She felt rather stupid now. But then, Elle hadn’t announced her abilities to the world, either. Just using them to get more abilities…
He frowned and lifted his chin. “I’m a freshman, not a middle-schooler.”
Oh, that explained it, Elle thought sarcastically. Teenagers always knew so much more than everyone else.
She set her hand on his knee. “Got a name, freshman?”
He stared down at her hand on his knee but didn’t pull away. “Lyle.”
Elle smiled. “Well, Lyle. Thanks for giving me something to think about.” She stood and pocketed the photo.
“You’re leaving? It’s only the second quarter. There’s going to be a halftime show.” He shrugged and tried to look cooler and more mature than his years would allow. “I mean, what Union Wells calls a halftime show.”
Her smile grew. “I wouldn’t miss it. But first I’ve got to see to something. Be right back.” He nodded, and she headed down the stairs. If Jackie Wilcox couldn’t actually heal, why would she lie? Or was this whole thing a dud?
Or was Jackie Wilcox just covering for someone else?
Elle reached the path that wound around the football field and looked around. Where would a lying, cheating cheerleader hide?
She saw a couple girls emerge from what looked like a gym building and grinned to herself. She’d come to Nowheresville, Texas looking for a new superpower. She wasn’t leaving until she got it.
On the way, she smiled as she passed a man in a beige trenchcoat who didn’t seem to realize he was wearing a trenchcoat at a football game. He was cute, but she could have improved his looks with a haircut. Pity there were more important things to take care of. Maybe she’d meet up with him later and flirt a little.
Peter headed to the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd for the cheerleader from Isaac’s paintings. Blond cheerleader with green eyes, blond cheerleader with green eyes… Most of these girls looked like they had blond hair, but their faces weren’t round enough. Nearly all of them had their hair up in ponytails, too, whereas the girl in Isaac’s paintings had her hair down in loose curls.
He frowned to himself. This would be easier if Hiro had met him here like they’d agreed. Peter had thought Hiro was as idealistic as he was himself, that Hiro would definitely show up. He’d seemed so enthusiastic over the phone, and Hiro’s future self had seemed so determined.
Or maybe Hiro’s future self was determined because Hiro, and maybe Peter, too, had failed to save the cheerleader the first time around?
Peter bit his lip. Never mind that for now. The important thing was to find the cheerleader and keep her safe. Save the cheerleader, save the world. Sure, it sounded cheesy, but at least he knew what he had to do.
And if he could survive the night, so much the better.
The cheerleader was obviously nowhere on the football field, and Peter leaned against the fence as he dug out pictures of Isaac’s paintings. He’d already studied them to death on the plane, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe he had missed something.
Peter was too busy flipping through the pictures to notice the woman beside him glance at the photos. She froze and slowly looked up at him with an appalled expression. She followed his eyes as he looked at the cheerleaders, studying each one, and cleared her throat angrily.
His eyes widened, and he slipped the photos back into his pocket. He forced a smile as he tried to explain. Realizing that there was no way to explain this, and that he must look like a sexual predator or something, he settled on, “Sorry. It’s- It’s not what you think.”
Keeping her steely-eyed gaze on him, she drew out her cell phone and very slowly punched in three numbers before holding the phone up to her ear.
“Sorry,” Peter repeated, holding up his hands in surrender as he walked backward. She was still on the phone when he entered a crowd of people and lost sight of her.
Okay, so the football field was probably a no-go. He’d have to look elsewhere.
He waited until he was farther away this time before looking again at the pictures before mentally kicking himself. All of the paintings save the one of him looked like they took place in one of the school buildings.
Looking around to see if the woman was about to sic anyone on him, he headed toward a door in one of the buildings.
Jackie glared at the woman in front of her. The blonde looked young enough and short enough to still be in high school, and if this was a trick by those losers they were playing tonight to mess with the cheerleading squad, she’d march out there and punch each of the visiting cheerleaders in the face. “Excuse me?”
“No, really. I think it’s adorable how you think you’re special. There’s really nothing up there, is there?” She tapped Jackie’s forehead and smiled. “But we both know you’re not special, Jackie. So who are you covering for?”
Jackie frowned at her. Okay. Maybe not from the other school. Maybe a reporter who was trying to expose her? As if she’d even done anything wrong. All the cheerleaders had been under suspicion for breaking into a crime scene or whatever. Jackie had just taken the hit for the person. And if they’d really cared, they would have come forward themselves. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled. “Elle Bishop.”
Jackie didn’t pretend to look impressed. “I mean, who are you with? What network? Magazine?”
The woman - Elle, if that was her real name, but she’d heard reporters worked undercover sometimes - looked offended. “Just tell me who actually saved that man’s life and I’ll go, okay?”
Jackie forced a laugh. “I saved him!”
“Wow. You lie almost as well as you fit into that outfit.”
The forced laugh cut off. “Meaning?”
“What do you think I mean? I see the thickness isn’t all in your legs.”
“You fu-”
Both of them whipped their heads toward the door as another cheerleader entered. This one was shorter than Jackie, with her hair falling in long curls. “Jackie. Hey. Can I talk to you?”
“Sorry,” Elle said quietly. “I shouldn’t have called you thick. Can’t really call you that after seeing her.”
Jackie shoved past Elle. “C’mon, Claire. Let’s talk outside.” Though she wanted to focus on getting back at Claire for punching her earlier, she wanted to get away from this bitch more. Something about Elle’s smile bothered her. It wasn’t right that the woman should look so comfortable and… what?
The next thing Jackie knew, air was rushing past her face. She barely had time to see the wall before she hit it and fell to the ground, fiery pain running through her body. She gasped for breath, whimpering at how much the effort hurt her. She tried to push herself up but couldn’t move.
She closed her eyes. She could feel panic welling up within her. Jackie was going to end up like that Superman guy or the wife of that guy running for office in New York, she just knew it. How did they even have sex?
Tears clouded her vision, and she blinked them away as a shadow fell across her. “Hello?” she whispered. She could barely make out a pair of black shoes, and black slacks...
“You really aren’t special, are you?”
A whine started deep in her throat, moving gradually higher. She felt something on her head, as if he were stroking her hair, and before she could scream or cuss him out, everything went dark.
“What are you doing?” Claire stared at the woman standing across from her, her hand lifted, fingers splayed apart, almost as if Claire were a puppet on strings, stuck tight against the wall.
“I’m standing far enough away that I don’t get your blood on me. That’s the worst part about killing people, you know. The bloodstains.”
“You- You can’t kill me,” Claire stammered. The woman couldn’t seriously mean to kill her, could she? Claire didn’t even understand why it upset her so much - it wasn’t as if she hadn’t killed herself before. But she’d always been the one in control, and now she was a foot off the ground, her back pressed against the wall, and unable to move.
“Maybe I can. I don’t know. Though it would be fun to try.” The woman moved closer, concentrating on Claire’s forehead as if she could see through it. Suddenly she smiled and fell back again. “This might sting a little.”
Claire felt something on her forehead, almost like a fingernail poking her above her left eye. Before she had time to think about what was happening, the feeling exploded into a burst of pain, a shard of glass tearing apart her skin, scraping through her bone. She heard herself scream, but it barely registered through the pain.
And then the pain faded, slowly at first and then faster as her body hurried to heal itself. She was vaguely aware of a man in a black coat asking if she were all right and telling her that she had a- “What?”
“I said you have a remarkable gift, young lady.” He smiled, and Claire’s heart sank as he pointed a finger at her skull.
Peter spun as he heard a scream, running in the direction of the sound. “HELLO?” he shouted. Was he too late? He came to a T-section and looked both ways. “HELLO?” He shook his bangs out of his way and turned around. What if he had heard the echoes wrong and had run in the wrong direction?
Wait. What had that been?
He turned to look down a hallway. Was that a voice? It sounded almost like- That was someone crying, right? Not just the wind playing tricks on him. He heard it again and ran toward the sound, slowing down when he saw the crumpled body. Somewhere in his mind, he noticed that the girl was wearing a cheerleading uniform. He dropped to his knees beside her, gently running his hands over her neck and shoulder, not daring to move her after seeing the angle of her neck. She had a ponytail. That wasn’t right. Not the cheerleader he was looking for, then. What the hell was going on? How many cheerleaders were in danger at this school? “Hey, it’s okay. I’m a nurse. I’m here to help you. You’re going to be fine, I just need you to stay calm for me, okay?”
The girl sniffled. “Help me.”
“I will. Can you tell me what happened?”
She took a shuddering breath. “Claire...”
“Hi, Claire. I’m Peter.”
The girl closed her eyes. “No!” Her voice was quiet and broke even on that little word, but her exasperation was plain as she shakily managed to point at the locker room door. “Claire!”
Peter twisted to look over his shoulder, realization dawning. “Don’t worry. I’ll save her.”
He pushed himself to his feet, his eyes focused on the door. Now that he thought about it, this was incredibly stupid. Hiro could stop time, but what could Peter do? He could paint the future, sometimes he could fly. Almost. Or at least, so he thought. And now he was going up against a super-powered murderer with... nothing. Nothing but the knowledge that he had to save the cheerleader, or terrible things would happen in the future.
His heart pounding, Peter threw himself at the door, spotting a blond girl - woman? - crumpled on the floor in front of him, splattered with blood.
Something flew at him, and he barely got his hand in front of his face before the trash can hit him. He shoved it away and stared wide-eyed at the two men who were standing in the ruins of some lockers. Twisted metal was scattered around them, some of it floating in the air.
“Run!” One of the men shouted. He was tall, wearing khakis, a plaid shirt, and thick glasses. The man with his back to Peter was only slightly taller than Peter himself, wearing a large black coat and a black fedora.
There was a blur of movement to his right, and Peter barely caught the girl in the cheerleading uniform before she staggered into him. He steadied her by the arms, his instincts as a nurse taking over as he checked her for injuries. She was bloody, but he couldn’t see the wounds. “You okay?”
She raised her head, and his heart skipped a beat. Blonde hair down in curls, frightened green eyes... She looked exactly like the girl from Isaac’s painting. Claire. This was Claire, wasn’t it?
Something shoved them toward the door, and he gasped as he saw a stream of blue fire nearly hit his face.
“RUN!” the man repeated, throwing a chunk of twisted metal at the man in black.
Peter grabbed the girl’s arm, clumsily throwing open the door and shoving her out into the hall. He staggered after her, slipping a bit in a small pool of blood.
She yelled and fell to her knees beside the girl on the floor. “Jackie!”
“Don’t!” He pushed her arms down before she could touch Jackie. “Her neck’s hurt. If you move her, you might paralyze her, okay? We need to get help. We need to get you safe!”
“But what about her?”
“And you can’t help her if you’re dead, too. Come on!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall. Where could they go that was safe?
Elle stirred, wondering why it smelled like hell. And felt like hell. Or was that just her?
“I can’t let you do it!” That voice, familiar...
“Stand down, son. You might think you’re ready to go up against your old man, but-” There was a burst of bright light, and Elle closed her eyes tightly, holding a hand over her eyes. “There are still some things you need to learn.”
She rolled over. Right. The... What did they call those places? Locker rooms? In freaking Texas. She’d been after that cheerleader, and this man had come in and hurt her... Elle frowned. She took that personally...
There was a shout, and she watched several objects fall. She felt loose, absent, as if she were watching a movie. And then she saw Gabriel on the ground, clutching his stomach. For one brief moment, their eyes met, and she knew instantly that he’d lied to her. He’d had an ability all along. He’d only been after her for her ability. Just like Frank…
“Oh, look who’s up.”
The man’s face was lost in shadow, but a lack of light had never been much of an issue for her. Without a word, she flicked her wrist, the blast of lightning sending the man flying off his feet. Her TK sent twisted pieces of metal after him, speeding for his heart. How dare they? How many more people were going to treat her like a thing? How many of them were going to use her?
“NO!”
She turned to face Gabriel, a ball of lightning growing in her hands. “What? But Gabriel, I thought you liked me so much you’d let me do anything!”
“He’s my father,” he grated. He lifted a finger, and Elle nearly shocked him until he met her eyes again. The man shook on the ground, twisting as if he couldn’t breathe. Once his eyes shut, his body went still, and Gabriel lowered his hand. “I couldn’t let him kill her.”
“The cheerleader?”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve been killing people, Elle. You’re too-”
“Too what? Too cute? I hate that.”
“Too perfect,” he said, more quietly. He shoved himself to his feet, but she could see the way he weaved from side to side, unsure of his balance.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re not a killer, Elle.”
She smirked, even though it was forced. “C’mon, Gabriel Gabriel Gray. Didn’t you get the memo?” Behind him, part of a wooden bench rose in the air. “I’m the killer of the year.”
“I don’t beli-”
She watched him fall and tossed the bench back against the wall. He looked almost cute like that. Somehow, he had a greater air of competence when he was unconscious.
Using Frank’s ability, she peered into their skulls to see what they had, frowning when she got to the old man. No immortality, but it seemed he’d been taking many of the abilities she had passed up. “I’ll be talking to you later, you bastard.”
But for right now, she had a cheerleader to find.
It didn’t take long for Peter to get lost as Claire led him through the corridors. “I’m sorry I made you leave your friend.”
“No, I get it. She can’t move. Even if I cut myself, I’d heal before I could give her any of my blood.” She scoffed at herself, glancing into the shadows in justified paranoia. “I don’t even know if that would work.”
“I thought she was the one who saved that fireman.”
She shook her head. “No. But she likes attention. I thought it best to let her have it, you know?”
He nodded. “I think that’s admirable.”
She looked at him with a hint of a smile. A sad smile, he thought. “Really? I mean, it wasn’t like- I just don’t want to be any more of a freak than I already-”
Peter held a hand up, tilting his head. What had that been? A building noise, or something else?
“You know, when running from the person who’s determined to kill you, it’s usually a good idea not to leave a blood trail.”
They looked at one another, then behind them, where vague bloody shoeprints disappeared around the corner. Standing over the trail was- What the hell? Was that the woman from earlier? He’d thought she’d just been another victim!
“Who-”
“Run!” Claire grabbed his hand and staggered as a bolt of lightning hit her in the back.
“I don’t think so,” the woman continued, walking forward. “You think I want to run in heels?”
Peter pulled Claire behind a flight of stairs and led the way up. If they ran fast enough, the woman below wouldn’t be able to see what direction they went in at the top of the stairs; it was their one chance to escape. And if heading upstairs meant they were that much closer to making Isaac’s vision of the future a reality, then maybe Peter would at least be able to get Claire out safely. “Who the hell is that?”
Once they got to the top of the stairs, she pulled him down another hall. Peter got a glimpse of the football stadium lights through a window, but it did little to tell him where they were. “She was trying to kill me.”
“I thought the guy was trying to-”
“He was trying to kill me, too.”
“Is everybody trying to kill you?”
She glanced at him as they ran. There was another one of those sad smiles. “Not everyone.”
He flashed her a grin. She meant him. He was helping her. Maybe he could be a hero after-
He shouted as he left the ground. For a second, he thought he was flying, but he couldn’t move his arms or legs. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the girl suspended in the air beside him.
“You guys,” the woman whined. “It’s no fun when you run so much. And you stained my clothes, you little bitch.”
“Good!”
The woman tsked and turned them around to face her. Now that Peter could see her properly, he was surprised at how small and... clean she was. Beneath the blood, her clothes were new, her nails manicured... Part of her hair was matted in blood where she had lain in it.
He met her eyes and saw she’d been studying him, too. She smiled.
“I’ll get to you in a minute. I can’t put a finger on what yours does, but I will.” She turned to Claire and held up her other hand, and Peter watched out of the corner of his eye as Claire’s forehead was slowly ripped open.
“NO!” Peter yelled, struggling as Claire screamed. “NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!” He strained against the telekinesis as her blood fell to the floor. She was whimpering now, and Peter’s sense of helplessness and anger grew.
He screamed again, wordless and desperate. Blue flames burst to life in his hands, craning for the woman, and she jumped back with a shout.
Peter and Claire fell to the floor. He hurried over to her, one hand still glowing blue. He didn’t understand how he was doing it, but he would take whatever he could get to keep the woman away. He could see her through the flame, watching him for some sign of weakness, and he threw a ball of fire at her like he’d seen the men in the locker room do.
He moved closer to Claire. At first, he thought she was dead. But after a moment, she gasped and floundered as she sat up. She looked around, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes before looking at the blood on the floor around her. He watched in awe as the gash on her forehead started to stitch itself back together. Before long, the only sign it had been there at all was a blood stain. “You can heal?”
“MINE!” The woman leapt forward, and Peter felt the now-familiar tug of telekinesis and waved his fiery hand in front of her face. He glanced around, seeing the window behind them.
Okay. If that was the way it had to be.
“C’mon.” He helped Claire to her feet before running to the window. He killed the flames and grabbed a desk. “You trust me?”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot and looked back to the woman, who was walking toward them again, wary, holding balls of lightning. “Hurry.”
Peter was already banging the desk against the window. There was a crack. Another hit, five more. “She won’t kill you around people, okay? So after this, run to the field.” He shouted as he hit the window again and saw the woman lift a hand out of the corner of his eye. He turned and threw the desk as hard as he could, not pausing as he grabbed Claire’s arm and threw himself against the glass. For a second, he thought it wouldn’t give, and he felt like a moron. Then it suddenly gave, and he was falling, the cement rising up to meet him. Isaac’s vision of the future was going to come true after all.
He wrapped his arms around Claire, hoping he’d break the impact enough she could run without waiting to heal. At least she’d make it out alive.
The last thing Peter remembered, there was a sickening crunch he’d instantly known were his bones breaking. He didn’t feel anything at the time, but now that someone was hitting him, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He groaned and coughed, tasting blood. He rolled over to spit it out.
“Hey! You okay? You’re- You just jumped out of a building!”
He pushed himself up with an arm and pulled back his bangs to look at her. Claire. The cheerleader. The cheerleader he had just saved. “I’m alive?”
“You’re crazy!” She shoved him in the chest, and Peter was surprised that it didn’t hurt more. “I thought you were going to die!”
“I- I thought I was, too.” He looked at his hand as the broken bones slid back into place.
“You really thought you were going to die?” She moved to block him from sight as some high school kids ran over, glaring at them until they stopped several yards away. Not that they had much choice; it looked like glass had exploded all over the place. They were probably looking after their shoes.
Peter wiggled his fingers. “Yeah. Didn’t you?” He flashed her a grin and held out his hand. “Peter.”
“Claire.” Her head popped up as they heard sirens, and she scowled. “About time they got here.”
Elle heard the sirens and kept her head down. She replayed the situation in her head over and over again. More telekinesis, more lightning, more something. But in the end, she’d been afraid she’d be spotted by people on the street. Just three more minutes. No, just one more minute, and she could be immortal right now. If she hadn’t stopped to watch how the regeneration worked...
Ugh. She had to stop thinking about what-ifs. She’d go back to her hotel, get cleaned up, and work out another way to get to that girl. Find out her name, for starters.
“Hi.”
Elle drew up sharply, nearly running over a short woman with the dark pixie cut. “Excuse you,” she snapped.
The woman just smiled. “Aren’t you feeling sleepy? You are, aren’t you. Very, very sleepy.”
Elle tried to fight off a yawn. “What-”
“Just close your eyes and go to sleep. We’ll take care of you.”
Noah opened the doors of their van, stepping out and easily picking up the woman covered in his daughter’s blood. He tossed her in the back and injected her with a sedative strong enough to keep her out until they reached the Company. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” Eden hesitated. “I thought it would be harder.”
“She likely didn’t think you were a threat.” He turned the woman’s face and looked at her wordlessly. Elle Bishop. He remembered having Gabriel question her months ago. How had they missed this? How had Noah missed this?
He turned to Rene and gave him a nod. Rene nodded back and headed off into the crowd. By morning, no one but the three of them would remember what had happened. And Elle Bishop, of course, but since she’d never see the light of day again, she didn’t count.
When Gabriel came to, he was alone. He pushed himself to his feet, wondering who had hit him from behind. Had it been his father? Elle?
He groaned and clutched his head as he heard sirens outside, the pain receding as he realized what it meant. He had to get out of here, or else everyone at the Company would think he’d tried to kill Claire. Noah would murder him.
He opened the door to find himself face to face with Rene. He froze. Through the years, he had learned to be wary of Rene. None of his abilities ever seemed to work around the man, and whenever he couldn’t remember something, he had to wonder...
Rene stared him down, unmoving. “The girl?”
“Claire? I think she’s safe. Dad got knocked out, and a guy came and helped Claire get away.” He licked his lips. “And there was a woman. Elle Bishop.”
“We have her.” Rene was silent, and Gabriel glanced in the direction of the sirens. How much time did he have? “I will take care of your father. Go.” He moved to the side, his face still immobile.
Gabriel didn’t stop to ask questions. He had to get back home without the Company being the wiser. He had to find a way to stop his father.
Link to fic master post: here
Link to art master post: here
Chapter Six