[closed]
WHO: Adam and Peter, obviously.
WHAT: Adam takes Harley's advice, and advances.
WHERE: The Petrelli Residence.
WHEN: Day 107. Midnight.
The death count was going up.
Things appeared to go in cycles. A few months of solitude, then a few months of bodies stacking up like it was Holocaust version 2.0. Peter had been on-site for most of the murder scenes. Grueling, bloody work. It didn't help that he was on call 24/7, but that was the life under the CSI department. It was somewhat enjoyable. The paycheck was better, and he was working his way up somehow.
The paperwork, the investigations however were not something very well received.
In the kitchen, at a cheap round table, Peter was hunched over folders, files, scribbling away a report. The dim light gave a dim view of everything, and he had to squint -- fuck it all, he didn't need glasses. Everything was dark, quiet with the exception of the roaring of cars and people outside.
WHAT: Adam takes Harley's advice, and advances.
WHERE: The Petrelli Residence.
WHEN: Day 107. Midnight.
The death count was going up.
Things appeared to go in cycles. A few months of solitude, then a few months of bodies stacking up like it was Holocaust version 2.0. Peter had been on-site for most of the murder scenes. Grueling, bloody work. It didn't help that he was on call 24/7, but that was the life under the CSI department. It was somewhat enjoyable. The paycheck was better, and he was working his way up somehow.
The paperwork, the investigations however were not something very well received.
In the kitchen, at a cheap round table, Peter was hunched over folders, files, scribbling away a report. The dim light gave a dim view of everything, and he had to squint -- fuck it all, he didn't need glasses. Everything was dark, quiet with the exception of the roaring of cars and people outside.