Heroes-Prompt: Dead Souls
Dead Souls
No cloud was disturbing the brilliant, deep blue of the sky above him. It felt as if some unknown power wanted to mock him for his grief. The sun was burning on his neck as Noah Bennet stood at the edge of a freshly opened grave on the public cemetery Odessa, Texas. Birds were singing in the trees, you could hear children shout and laugh on the playground beside the church’s school. In the coffin in front of him lay his daughter, Claire. The apple of his eye. The child he had adopted. The only person he had sworn to protect; whatever it took. He had failed. It hadn’t been enough. She was dead.
He barely listened to the preacher, who talked about that girl whose life had been taken too early. The preacher had no chance to do her justice in his speech; Claire Bear, as Noah used to call her. On his right, his wife, Sandra, was silently crying into his side. She had no idea what they were up against, no chance to understand what had been at stake when she looked away as her daughter broke curfew to act as homecoming queen. For her, he had looked like an overprotective, overly severe father, who had lost all perspective. Should he have told her? Should he have compromised Claire’s protection, her only chance for a normal life? But at least she could still be alive in this scenario.
He had let her be murdered - the only way the invulnerable girl, his special girl, could have died. The mass murderer, who had killed her, had been after her special ability. And he had made sure she wouldn’t be able to heal in the worst way possible - he had not just taken her ability, but her brain with him as well.
Maybe… maybe there was a possibility to resurrect Claire, if they found the murderer - oh why hadn’t he killed him when he had the chance - and find out where he had hidden the brain. He shivered at the thought - despite his training and his service as a “company man”. He had seen many atrocities in his life, but it had never involved his daughter, his family, his life. His wife at his side reacted and put her arm around his waist. She must have interpreted the shiver as a sign of grief.
Nobody in the group of mourners knew how his daughter had really died. They still believed it had been nothing but a tragic accident. They could pray to God, they could lament the injustice of life and death in general - but he couldn’t. He didn’t have this comfort. His daughter’s death hadn’t been the mere result of bad luck. He had to find that monster. Sylar. It had been he himself who had let that beast slip away. He didn’t just want a chance to get his daughter back. He wanted revenge. And he would get it. He felt his muscles tense in determination.
There was movement around him that took him out of his brooding mood. Members of the football team helped heave the coffin into the hole in the ground. He stepped forward and took a handful of earth to throw on it. After a moment of hesitation, he took off his glasses as well -the horn-rimmed glasses that Claire had helped him pick, the ones that had become his signature -and threw them into the grave, too. Without his daughter, he needed a new identity. As he stepped away, a single tear left his eyes and ran down his cheeks.
In the background, the birds were still singing, no cloud disturbing the brilliant blue sky above Odessa, Texas.
No cloud was disturbing the brilliant, deep blue of the sky above him. It felt as if some unknown power wanted to mock him for his grief. The sun was burning on his neck as Noah Bennet stood at the edge of a freshly opened grave on the public cemetery Odessa, Texas. Birds were singing in the trees, you could hear children shout and laugh on the playground beside the church’s school. In the coffin in front of him lay his daughter, Claire. The apple of his eye. The child he had adopted. The only person he had sworn to protect; whatever it took. He had failed. It hadn’t been enough. She was dead.
He barely listened to the preacher, who talked about that girl whose life had been taken too early. The preacher had no chance to do her justice in his speech; Claire Bear, as Noah used to call her. On his right, his wife, Sandra, was silently crying into his side. She had no idea what they were up against, no chance to understand what had been at stake when she looked away as her daughter broke curfew to act as homecoming queen. For her, he had looked like an overprotective, overly severe father, who had lost all perspective. Should he have told her? Should he have compromised Claire’s protection, her only chance for a normal life? But at least she could still be alive in this scenario.
He had let her be murdered - the only way the invulnerable girl, his special girl, could have died. The mass murderer, who had killed her, had been after her special ability. And he had made sure she wouldn’t be able to heal in the worst way possible - he had not just taken her ability, but her brain with him as well.
Maybe… maybe there was a possibility to resurrect Claire, if they found the murderer - oh why hadn’t he killed him when he had the chance - and find out where he had hidden the brain. He shivered at the thought - despite his training and his service as a “company man”. He had seen many atrocities in his life, but it had never involved his daughter, his family, his life. His wife at his side reacted and put her arm around his waist. She must have interpreted the shiver as a sign of grief.
Nobody in the group of mourners knew how his daughter had really died. They still believed it had been nothing but a tragic accident. They could pray to God, they could lament the injustice of life and death in general - but he couldn’t. He didn’t have this comfort. His daughter’s death hadn’t been the mere result of bad luck. He had to find that monster. Sylar. It had been he himself who had let that beast slip away. He didn’t just want a chance to get his daughter back. He wanted revenge. And he would get it. He felt his muscles tense in determination.
There was movement around him that took him out of his brooding mood. Members of the football team helped heave the coffin into the hole in the ground. He stepped forward and took a handful of earth to throw on it. After a moment of hesitation, he took off his glasses as well -the horn-rimmed glasses that Claire had helped him pick, the ones that had become his signature -and threw them into the grave, too. Without his daughter, he needed a new identity. As he stepped away, a single tear left his eyes and ran down his cheeks.
In the background, the birds were still singing, no cloud disturbing the brilliant blue sky above Odessa, Texas.