[5YG]
Matt Parkman is most often alone. He likes it that way. A good leader goes before his people. Asks of them nothing that he wouldn't be willing to do himself. It is a trick of power that one should make oneself absent from daily affairs. Work alone.
Besides, alone people don't question his methods, and alone he doesn't have to deal with...with humans looking at him out of the corner of his eye and wondering. Always wondering. He doesn't call them on it either, he's developed a look that says, "I know what you're thinking even if you don't know it."
And if they keep thinking he always tacks on a tilt of his head that means in any sort of language Stop it now.
Now is men who disobey him who are gone the next day from the office.
Now is being asked to personally oversee Homeland Security's Effort to "Stop Terrorist Insurgents at the source" and protect mankind from "Outside Influences."
Now Is people fixing him with sullen and angry glances as if they could see him (perhaps some of them could?) Through the video tape. He never visits the detention centers himself. He only sees the after effects.
A man with the power to amplify vibration and sound. A woman who walks through walls. An artist who's paintings come to life.
They have jobs. They're doctors and lawyers and soldiers. They're fast-food workers and department store clerks and programmers. They're homeless men and pilots and kids, (The kids are the worst)
He sees past all that to what they are underneath. Beyond their wailing shouts and angry curses. Beyond the few who try to use their abilities to do him and his agents harm.
They're enemies.
It's so simple. They took from him everything That he was. Everything good about him and what he served.
They're villians.
It was one of them, a major distributor of comics who had illustrated it to him most clearly. The old man hadn't put up a fight when they arrested him, though thousands of humans and non-humans alike had stormed the streets outside the capital until the President issued a statement. The old man had gathered himself with dignity and put on his sunglasses before turning to Matt and smiling "...Coulda come out of a fucking comic book."
Matt had led the old man away himself and learned three days later that he'd died in Nevada. Just after the explosion at the National Science Center. The death of 120, 130 people all at the hands of this old man and his...his brethren..
It could have come out of a comic book. The American flag flapping at night under some Artist's pencil. The deft bright colors of another artist's pen illustrating the bright and burning orange.
Molly Walker had once said, "You're my Hero."
He could make it up to her. Make it up to all of them. Get the rest. Get the evil ones so that the rest of them could be safe. If they had to lock up folks? It was for their own safety. You couldn't make an omlet without breaking a few eggs. Some things had to be sacrificed. He understood that.
Sacrifice is what heroes do after all.
Besides, alone people don't question his methods, and alone he doesn't have to deal with...with humans looking at him out of the corner of his eye and wondering. Always wondering. He doesn't call them on it either, he's developed a look that says, "I know what you're thinking even if you don't know it."
And if they keep thinking he always tacks on a tilt of his head that means in any sort of language Stop it now.
Now is men who disobey him who are gone the next day from the office.
Now is being asked to personally oversee Homeland Security's Effort to "Stop Terrorist Insurgents at the source" and protect mankind from "Outside Influences."
Now Is people fixing him with sullen and angry glances as if they could see him (perhaps some of them could?) Through the video tape. He never visits the detention centers himself. He only sees the after effects.
A man with the power to amplify vibration and sound. A woman who walks through walls. An artist who's paintings come to life.
They have jobs. They're doctors and lawyers and soldiers. They're fast-food workers and department store clerks and programmers. They're homeless men and pilots and kids, (The kids are the worst)
He sees past all that to what they are underneath. Beyond their wailing shouts and angry curses. Beyond the few who try to use their abilities to do him and his agents harm.
They're enemies.
It's so simple. They took from him everything That he was. Everything good about him and what he served.
They're villians.
It was one of them, a major distributor of comics who had illustrated it to him most clearly. The old man hadn't put up a fight when they arrested him, though thousands of humans and non-humans alike had stormed the streets outside the capital until the President issued a statement. The old man had gathered himself with dignity and put on his sunglasses before turning to Matt and smiling "...Coulda come out of a fucking comic book."
Matt had led the old man away himself and learned three days later that he'd died in Nevada. Just after the explosion at the National Science Center. The death of 120, 130 people all at the hands of this old man and his...his brethren..
It could have come out of a comic book. The American flag flapping at night under some Artist's pencil. The deft bright colors of another artist's pen illustrating the bright and burning orange.
Molly Walker had once said, "You're my Hero."
He could make it up to her. Make it up to all of them. Get the rest. Get the evil ones so that the rest of them could be safe. If they had to lock up folks? It was for their own safety. You couldn't make an omlet without breaking a few eggs. Some things had to be sacrificed. He understood that.
Sacrifice is what heroes do after all.