After extricating himself from Harvey's company, Peter found himself at an utter loss for what to do. He drifted away from the park (too cold for that), munching on his breakfast muffin and searching out some place where $15 might be useful. The coupon pack was about as helpful as it had ever been. He wandered past Pearl's Prettification Parlour,
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The cold air was refreshing, at least, and Firo wanted to stretch his legs a bit after the ride. If he was going to be here all day, it wouldn't hurt to get to know these unfamiliar streets first... Unlike New York there wasn't much to get to know, so it wouldn't take very long at all, either.
Sticking gloved hands into his coat pockets, he set off towards what looked from here to be the main stretch of the dinky town. Firo crossed to the other side from where the buses had let off, where a street sign proclaimed it the corner of Germaine and Main.
He continued on, walking along the length of a bookstore that had started on the corner. Someone walking ahead of him had turned his head to look at the buildings as he went, and it only took a moment for Firo to recognize the face. He wasn't in a wheelchair today, but it was definitely Peter Petrelli.
"Peter!" he called out, spurring his walk into a jog to catch up with his fellow New Yorker.
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But as it turned out, it seemed that this time it was meant for him, since while Firo was dressed in an unfamiliar outfit (as was everyone), he was pretty hard to miss when he was running straight for him.
Peter was glad to see that the younger man seemed to be in good spirits, not to mention completely unharmed if the ease with which he was running was any indication. His lip curled up into a smile as he waved to him. It would be nice to get some company so soon.
Still, part of him was worried despite that. Firo had been pretty confused the day before, and he wasn't sure if the other patient had worked through all that yet. "Hey," he said once Firo had reached him. "How've you been adapting so far?" That seemed like a vague enough way to ask after the young man.
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"I'm doing alright," he answered. "I, uh... I was under the wrong impression yesterday. Even though some of what you said made a lot of sense, I doubted most of it. I had a chance to see for myself last night, and... Well, I believe you now."
The embarrassment grew with every word, but if his cheeks had become flushed, it was just from the chill in the air. He wasn't sure now why he'd tried to explain himself, anyway; he could have just answered Peter's question and not bring up their talk yesterday at all... But Peter had been a lot of help in explaining the situation, so somehow it felt wrong to pretend that he'd never doubted him. Even though saying it had been uncomfortable, he air felt clearer now.
Firo turned his head towards Peter, glancing down at his legs briefly.
"I see you're on your feet again," he added, a little awkwardly.
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"It's fine," he said with a small smile and a quick shake of his head. His pace moving down the street had slowed somewhat, mainly because he was distracted but also because he still hadn't decided on where to go. It seemed more important to get this all sorted out first. "You had good reason to question me. I'm just glad that you figured things out so fast." A lot of people got stuck in denial for a while, and in the end all it did was hold them back.
Even with this good news, though, Peter couldn't help wondering what it was that had caused Firo to convert. He glanced forward down the snowy street for a moment, wondering if it would be too prying to ask. But Firo had brought it up of his own accord, so... "Did something happen? Last night, I mean." Whether it was getting attacked by a monster or running into one of the special counseling patients, there were a number of ways for someone's mind to be changed.
As for the comment about his improved condition, Peter only nodded. Firo hadn't gone as far to ask him how he'd gotten better so quickly, which was for the best. Luckily Firo had never been made aware of how severe the wounds were in the first place, so maybe Peter's quick recovery didn't stand out so much to him.
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"It wasn't much," Firo answered with a shrug. "Just a couple of overgrown cats in the hallway."
But then there was also the fact that he'd never returned to his room, yet had woken up there this morning... Firo frowned at the thought. For once, he actually wouldn't have minded an injury to last, to serve as proof that it hadn't been a dream. There were Peter's healing injuries to consider, and Dexter's injuries as well (while he had seen the man this morning, he felt certain that today he would be sporting a few new reminders of fighting), but it wasn't impossible for them to have gotten injured from something else entirely...
...Or he was just over-thinking things.
"Of course, the whole thing could have also been a dream, but it certainly felt real." In more ways that one-he could clearly recall the feeling of the cat's claws slicing into him. "I somehow ended up in my room after that... I don't remember going back, though."
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Peter had run into the cats here in the past and he knew what they were capable of, so he was glad to see that Firo seemed to be in good condition despite that. Maybe he'd done the smart thing and run away when those things had found him.
There were a few more things he had to make clear, though, and so he shook his head in response to what the teen said next. "It wasn't a dream, believe me. And as for this morning, that's just how it works. The minute night ends, you'll be transported from wherever you are, no matter where it is, back into your room. It's frustrating, but you get used to it after a while."
So to speak. It was more that people eventually adapted because there was really no way to prevent it. If they could figure out how to get their powers back and stop that from happening they would be set, but when were things ever so easy?
Peter felt kind of bad that he was spending all this time just explaining things to Firo when they could be exploring the town, though, and so he went back to browsing the shops. "Anywhere you were interested in, by the way?"
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"Ah, no... I mean..." he started, trying to correct the impression. "You said that the 'creatures' here tend to look like experiments gone wrong, but these didn't seem impressive like that. They were fast, sure, and their claws were really something, but they didn't look like much more than alley cats grown too big."
Whether or not the explanation made sense to Peter, Firo fell quiet again after it, thinking over what Peter said about ending up in his room being 'just how it works'. If it could really be done no matter where they were, it would certainly be an effective method for preventing escape-and would explain how the prison could afford to let its inmates roam freely. It also explained a thing or two about why Claire was still around.
It was a moment before Firo realized that Peter had asked about the store; they'd just passed a grocer with fruit sitting out on display, and he couldn't tell just yet what the next business was about, but so far he hadn't seen anything particular enticing. He was, however, surprised to see a spa across the street.
"I don't know what's here, so I was planning on just looking around for now," he answered. "It shouldn't take very long to walk all around a dinky town like this, though, and I know we got coupons for a couple places..."
Firo pulled said coupons and card he'd been given out of his pocket, looking them over again. There had been a promise of money in the announcement this morning, too, but he wasn't surprised that they hadn't been given any; the prison would definitely end up in trouble giving out money... But the fancy card was still a mystery, and if Peter had been here before, maybe he could answer about it.
"Say, you don't know why we were given these, do you?" He held the card in question up.
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The point was that he didn't want Firo to not take the dangers of this place seriously, since that would guarantee him a night where everything went wrong. It was impossible to avoid severe injury if you spent enough time here -- yesterday had proved that to Peter solidly.
From the sounds of it, Firo hadn't decided on where to go yet, and Peter couldn't blame him for just wanting to get a lay of the land first things first. He nodded before continuing down the street. "It's fine. Just let me know if there's anywhere you want to check out." Peter would be willing to accompany Firo at least for a little bit, especially since the newcomer still had some questions.
At first, when the card was offered, Peter was confused. He realized it didn't bear much of a resemblance to the more common credit cards, but it was still the same basic idea. But -- right. Alcatraz was still a functioning prison as far as Firo was concerned. Peter couldn't help smiling at the realization; it was kind of quaint coming up against this sort of confusion, he had to admit.
"Oh, they're called credit cards. Basically, data that represents a certain amount of money is put on there, so if you go into a store and give that to the cashier, you'll be able to buy something. Five dollars worth, anyway." That was what the announcement said the lowest rank got, right? That wouldn't be able to buy Firo much, but it was better than nothing.
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'Next time'. At least despite all the oddities and monsters brought on by this place, his fighting spirit was still strong. No matter whether it was monsters or Victor's assignment, a member of the Martillo Family wouldn't give up so easily. But next time also wouldn't arrive for a little longer; the day was still young, and there was more of the town to see.
He looked down at the card he was still holding, flipping it over in his hands. The concepts of lending and credit were familiar, but if the card was for keeping track of it, was the information supposed to be marked down on it somewhere? As far as he could tell, it didn't even indicate how much it was good for.
Nevertheless, he nodded. "Seems like a weird way to handle it; handing out cash would have been easier than making the cards." As he tucked the card back into his pocket, a thought occurred to him: maybe the cards were meant to prevent the prisoners from pooling their cash to buy something particularly expensive. Even using a rough estimate of how many prisoners he'd seen yesterday, at a minimum of five dollars a head there would be more than enough to buy even a car. "Can you use someone else's card? It's got a photograph, but..."
They started passing alongside the building that had been ahead earlier-it was a beauty salon, it turned out. He wasn't sure what the signs in the windows were advertising, but whatever it was sure was expensive.
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"Well, don't get too close," he warned. "Like I said, those cats are just the tip of the iceberg. There's no guarantee you'll be attacked every night, but you can't count it out either." It seemed like the monsters actually waited for your guard to drop before attacking. Maybe they could sense that sort of thing. At this point he'd believe anything.
"If we'd gotten cash people could have given their money away or combined it. They probably want to make sure we can only afford certain things," Peter explained, not realizing that his words mirrored Firo's train of thought. Logic dictated that the really useful stuff would be more expensive, so it was a clever system. "Since the cards have our names and our picture on them, it'd be pretty easy to tell if it didn't belong to the person using it." All of the nurses seemed to know them by name, after all -- and they were still being closely watched.
"Anything particular you were thinking of buying?" Peter asked next. "If you're looking for something, I might be able to tell you if there's a place that sells it." He was hardly an expert on the town, but he had been here a number of times. That had to count for something.
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It seemed that Peter had picked up along the same line of thought that Firo'd had himself, and he nodded in agreement. "Even if that's what the aim was with the cards, I'm surprised they've given out any money at all. If we'd had to work for it, that would be one thing, but... As it is, it seems like it's just charity." A stubborn sense of pride made Firo not want to accept that charity, but in his mind, practicality and necessity were winning out: if he could obtain something useful in town, he would. He had no grudge against the shopkeepers, so it would be better in this case to use the prison's money than to steal from the town.
Unfortunately, the most useful items would also be the hardest to keep. "I've been hoping to get a knife," he admitted, "either here in town or back in the prison. But if we get searched, a weapon would just get confiscated..." At least, that was what would happen in any half-decent prison, but if there was one thing Firo was certain of, it was that this prison was strange.
He sighed. "Other than that, I don't know yet. Are you planning on buying something specific? You've been here longer than I have, so if there's something useful you'd recommend..."
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"There's got to be some catch to it, but I'm also not going to not use it just because of that." They had the money now, and he couldn't really foresee any danger in making the most of that. Granted, the fact that things like knives were more or less out of the picture made the whole thing a little more difficult.
What point had he come to, where he was disappointed that he couldn't purchase a weapon?
More than that, though, he needed to think about what he could buy, and almost immediately something popped into his head. "Actually, I need a bag to hold all of my medical supplies," he mused, more to himself than to Firo. He realized that wouldn't make much sense without an explanation, though, and so he glanced over after a pause. "I was a nurse before I came here" -- and before he'd gotten his powers -- "so I've been doing my best to tend to people's injuries when I can." In reality, it hadn't been going that well. "Having something to hold all of my supplies in would probably be a big help."
It'd be ten times better than the pillowcase, anyway.
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The bag sounded like a good idea, actually, and Firo didn't think too much of what Peter had said he needed it for until he started to explain. He looked over at then, surprise evident on his face. He knew male nurses weren't unheard of, but they were also pretty rare. But more importantly: "So what's a nurse doing here?"
The question might have come across as a bit sudden, but Firo's curiosity had gotten the better of him. There was a bit of a pause before he tried to clarify, "That is... I know you said the place acted like an asylum before, but I'm guessing you weren't part of the staff. What did you do to deserve getting sent over?"
It may not have been Alcatraz, but it was still (as far as he knew) a prison.
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"No one really knows the answer to your question," he said after a pause. "I mean, there's no correlation between all the people who've been brought here." He wondered if he should mention how a lot of the patients had powers of some sort, but maybe that was something Firo should find out on his own.
"The only thing that I can really say is that either Landel or Aguilar saw each of us as useful somehow." And Peter doubted that it was his nursing ability that had made him stand out. It had to be his powers, and yet the funny thing was that he was now using his real-life skills more purely out of necessity.
In the end, all he could do was shrug and keep walking. As far as he could tell, everyone needed to decide for themselves what the reason was that they had been brought here. He knew it was because of his powers. The special counseling session had proved that.
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"Shouldn't being arrested in the first place be a correlation?" he found himself asking. "Even if there's no connection between the crimes and even if there are some innocent people who were found guilty, everyone has a reason for being imprisoned. Being here specifically instead of someplace else doesn't change that, but now that you mention it..."
Why they were here specifically was a good question as well. Still, someone had gone through a lot of trouble to send him here instead of Alcatraz, and Firo wasn't entirely sure that Victor was the one responsible. So far, he hadn't seen a single trace of either Huey or the mole that was supposed to give him the details of his job. Was this to be a temporary step on the way to Alcatraz? Had Victor changed things without letting Firo know? Had something gone wrong?
Firo exhaled, his breath appearing as a brief puff in the cold air. Maybe the imprisonment itself wasn't as clear-cut as he pictured it; he hadn't had a trial himself, and Claire was here without knowing why (or so he'd said).
"Landel and Aguilar are the ones in charge here, right?" The ones Claire wanted to talk to.
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Maybe it was just him.
But Peter couldn't even imagine what someone as young as Firo had done to get himself put in jail, let alone shipped off to an infamous prison like Alcatraz. It was true that he'd actually traveled through time instead of going there, but the point was that that was where he was supposed to have been placed. Weren't only murderers supposed to be put in a place like that? Peter wasn't an expect, but still.
The image of Albedo, who was far younger than Firo, holding onto that shotgun ran through his head. What was with this young people and their capability to spill blood? It wasn't right.
"...Are you saying that you were arrested for something? Because that's not the case for most of the people here. Generally everyone is just yanked out of their normals lives and put here for what seems to be no reason." Sure, he had a reason to be imprisoned if he really thought about it, considering the threat he posed after the explosion, but that wasn't something he was going to share with Firo either way.
The teen's next question came through and distracted Peter for a moment. He had to fight not to see Firo in a new light now, but he would manage it. "Landel was in charge. Aguilar is now, and we don't even know where Landel went." He doubted they would ever find out unless the man regained his position somehow, but at this point that was looking unlikely, he had to admit.
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