RP- "Someone is Ringing My Bell"
There were a few small instances in Peter Petrelli's life where he could say that he was right where he was meant to be at that moment. As he walked into Gray and Son Time Piece Repair to the sounds of a small tinkling bell, a wooden chair hitting a carpeted floor, and a grappling choking noise, Peter knew this was one of those times.
"Hello?" He set the old, antique mantle-clock his mother had told him to bring here on the counter, and made his way past a bubbled-glass partition to see a man hanging from the ceiling by a rope.
As Peter's focus went into hyperdrive, he could later only recall a few snatches of information: that he felt a deep, cold stab in his ribcage when he came within the vicinity of this man- that there was a small, sharp scalpal-like tool on a worktable- and that he had flown. But he did not realize this until much, much later.
The man fell and Peter went down with him, keeping him from landing too hard on the floor. Peter made him lay back against a desk as he examined the man's throat for any sign that his windpipe had caved in. His recently completed nurses-training coming to the fore as he check the man's pulse and eye-dialation response.
"Are you alright," he asked in a calm, low voice.
The man looked him in the eye, and Peter couldn't help but gasp at the intensity of his gaze.
"No," the man gasp," no I'm not." He burst into tears. " Forgive me, forgive me."
"Hello?" He set the old, antique mantle-clock his mother had told him to bring here on the counter, and made his way past a bubbled-glass partition to see a man hanging from the ceiling by a rope.
As Peter's focus went into hyperdrive, he could later only recall a few snatches of information: that he felt a deep, cold stab in his ribcage when he came within the vicinity of this man- that there was a small, sharp scalpal-like tool on a worktable- and that he had flown. But he did not realize this until much, much later.
The man fell and Peter went down with him, keeping him from landing too hard on the floor. Peter made him lay back against a desk as he examined the man's throat for any sign that his windpipe had caved in. His recently completed nurses-training coming to the fore as he check the man's pulse and eye-dialation response.
"Are you alright," he asked in a calm, low voice.
The man looked him in the eye, and Peter couldn't help but gasp at the intensity of his gaze.
"No," the man gasp," no I'm not." He burst into tears. " Forgive me, forgive me."