Aft Gang Agley - 6
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Henri can’t stop himself from shouting when the bullet rips into his shoulder. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
Niki drops the gun, and runs over to his side. “Oh God, Henri. I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” She wraps her arms around him, trying to keep him from falling to the floor.
“Don’t worry about me. Go, quickly, get Micah, and leave town.” He gives the two women a slight grimace, his best attempt at a smile. “Truly, I am fine. I’ve got a doctor waiting for me at the airport. I know my men heard the gunshot-- you need to leave - now!”
When Niki hesitates, he pushes her away from him and motions at the window again. Niki looks at the window, and then at Claire, wondering if the petite girl can get through without help. The sudden pounding sound of Henri’s men trying to beat the door down is the only impetus the women need to scramble for the window and the safety it promises.
- - - - - - - - - -
Micah’s in the middle of his English class when his cell phone starts ringing. It wouldn’t be that odd of an occurrence, except for the fact that he’d turned the phone off that morning when he’d gotten to school. He’s wondering if it would do any good to press the mute button or not when the phone suddenly goes silent.
“Mr. Sanders,” his teacher barks at him, “is that your phone ringing? I believe you know how I feel about those… contraptions… in my class room.” The man sneers at him.
He briefly debates whether or not he should try to lie when the phone rings again, this time with a different ring. As soon as he recognizes the distinctive emergency siren, he dives for his book bag and runs from the classroom. He’d asked the phone to only play that particular ring in case his mom calls more than twice during a five minute period while he’s in class - the only way Mom would ever disrupt school is for a massive emergency. He flips the phone open frantically. “Mom, are you okay?”
“We’re fine, there’s been an attack on the house, I’m coming to get you. I’ll be at the gates within two minutes, meet me outside.”
Glancing about the empty hallways, he wonders if he’ll make it outside without being caught by one of the hall monitors or vice-principals. He takes off running towards the nearest side exit - it would be easier to circle to the front of the school from the outside than it would be to run through the hallways. He makes it to the gates just as Niki pulls up, and reaches for the passenger side door, only to notice there’s someone else in the car with his mother. Instead, he wrenches open the back door and tosses his book bag across the seat before jumping in.
“Mom, what’s going on?” He asks while looking at the redhead in the front seat. She looks so familiar to him, but he can’t place her. “Where are we going?”
Niki exchanges glances with the redhead, and the other woman just shrugs and turns to look out the window as they speed away from the school.
“The Company sent an assault team after Claire and me. I guess they didn’t think about the fact that you’d still be in school. As to where we’re going, I’m not sure - just away from here for now.” Niki looks at him through the rear view mirror. “Henri says hi.”
As soon as his mom says Claire, he immediately recognizes the other woman. He’s about to greet her when his phone starts ringing and vibrating again. This time, he’s got a text message.
‘M - Erase all NV file re CB b4 AP no go Mo - H’
He doesn’t even realize he’s talking out loud when he says, “now that’s strange.”
“What’s strange, baby?” Niki asks.
“A really strange text message; I can’t figure out who sent it - there’s no number or contact info.” When he asks the phone, there’s still no way of tracing the message, which makes the situation even stranger.
“Can I see?” Claire asks. “Maybe I can help,” she suddenly grins, “my dad used to joke that I was the queen of texting.”
He silently hands over the phone. She stares at it for just a minute before smiling again. “I think it’s from Henri; it’s about me and my grandmother.”
“Well, what does he want?” Niki asks as she speeds down the on-ramp to I-15.
“I’m not exactly sure. Erase all NV - Nevada? - files about me before my grandmother… something. No go mo, whatever that means.”
“What files would the state of Nevada have about you?” Niki glances over at Claire, only to see the girl playing with the gold ring again. “Oh. Right.” She abruptly cuts off her statement.
Claire toys with the ring for another minute, before sighing. She slips the ring off her finger and puts in her jeans pocket before twisting in her seat to face Micah.
“Micah, would you mind doing a favor for me please? I need you to hack into some government files - can you do that now, or do we need to stop and find you a computer?”
“I can do it on the phone, no problem. What am I looking for?” He’s already playing with the phone before he can even finish asking his questions.
“Get into the marriage license bureau.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Purge the license and everything related to it for Gabriel Gray and Claire Bennet.”
A few minutes later, and it’s like her marriage is nothing but a figment of her imagination.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Is he going to be okay?” A hint of anxiousness slips through the iciness of Angela’s voice.
The healer glances at the Haitian again. “He’ll be fine.” Realizing that she hadn’t specified which man she was talking about, he quickly clarifies. “Both of them are out cold - I’m going to keep them knocked out with sedatives until we land. That will give the Haitian time to heal, and it’s the only way to keep Sylar under control while the Haitian’s unconscious.”
“Good.” The anxiety is gone, and he realizes that she must have been worried about the Haitian. He’d never thought that Mrs. Petrelli was capable of caring about anything before, except for her job and her own family. “When will you be landing?”
Now he’s glad he talked to the pilot before she called. “In about an hour.”
“I’ll have guards and transportation waiting on you at the airport. Wake the Haitian immediately upon landing. He’ll decide if you should wake the prisoner or not.”
She hangs up before he can respond.
- - - - - - - - - -
Angela watches from the safety of the viewing room as several guards drag Sylar into his cell. They had had to sedate him on the ride to the Company, but the sedatives have worn off - again - and only Henri’s presence was properly preventing Sylar from killing them all. She doesn’t know what they’re going to do about sedating him; she’s starting to think that the only thing that will work will be the tranquilizers veterinarians use on elephants.
He’s fascinating to watch. Even being restrained as he is, he’s still fighting. The guards have him cuffed at both the wrist and ankles and there’s a collar around his neck, yet, somehow, he’s still managing to land blows on them. He gets his arms up and around the neck of the guard to his left, and is using the chain between his wrists to choke the man when another guard finally remembers he has a taser and uses it on Sylar.
The guards haul his trembling body over to the bed in the corner of the room, and quickly leave. Henri leaves with them, and she knows that he’s on his way back to his room, as par her prior orders. Nevertheless, she continues to watch, knowing that the show’s far from over yet. Years of research have finally figured out the distance at which the Haitian’s powers will no longer influence a subject, and she knows that any second now, Sylar’s powers will return.
She’s not disappointed by her decision to stay and watch. All the objects in the cell that aren’t bolted to the ground are suddenly flung at the walls. She didn’t realize that a water pitcher could be imbedded in a concrete wall before - fascinating. The man had obviously grown stronger since the last time anyone from the Company had encountered him. She’s suddenly glad they’d reinforced the room when he starts throwing the metal bed frame at the wall - the unmodified cell wouldn’t have been able to withstand that abuse.
Angela reaches over and taps the controls for the intercom. “Mr. Gray, would you please refrain from throwing a temper tantrum?”
It’s like he doesn’t hear her, but she knows better. When her boys were little, they were just the same way. She’d just have to wait until he’d exhausted himself. Settling back into her chair, she watches as he continues to trash his room.
The telekinetic assault on the walls continues until he’s broken everything into miniscule pieces. When he has nothing left to use as a weapon, he resorts to using his body. Really, Angela thinks, it’s amazing how strong he is. Lesser men would have given up already. He’d started screaming and shouting a little bit earlier, and his voice is strained by the time he notices that he’s broken several bones in his hand and arm in his attempts to physically beat the walls down. He slumps to floor, exhausted and in pain, leaving a streak of red on the wall from the wounds on his hand.
“Now, dear, have you gotten that out of your system?” She taps the intercom on again.
He snarls, but stays still.
“Mr. Gray, we can’t condone that sort of behavior, and therefore, the healers will not be helping you. Maybe by the time that the breaks heal, you will have learned your lesson.” She smiles, knowing that will never happen. “We have a few questions for you. First, we’ve heard reports that you had a companion with you - tell me about that.”
He sits there, perfectly still and silent.
“Really, you’re making this harder than it has to be for all of us. Tell me about the woman. Witnesses spotted you with a mysterious woman, but we didn’t find any traces of her in your room. I’d love to know the story about that.”
Again, no reaction. She wonders if maybe he’s too tired to respond and that she should wait a day or two.
“We’re going to find her, just so you know. It might be easier on her if you would cooperate with us. I’d hate for her to have to pay for your stubbornness.” Her voice is low and steady, and she knows he’ll understand the implied threat.
She’s expecting more silence, so she’s shocked when he violently erupts.
“You leave her alone. I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you as much as lay a finger on her!” The small table beside what’s left of his bed strains against its bolts, finally coming free, and he hurls it at the observation room. Angela instinctively ducks, even though she knows that it won’t break the glass. “Leave my family alone! I’ll kill you if you don’t leave my wife out of this!”
Wife? Angela wasn’t expecting that. She can tell the exact moment that Sylar realizes what he’s said, for he gets still and quiet again. She doesn’t get another word out of him for the rest of the evening, though he’s given her plenty to think about. She wasn’t expecting him to be so… fascinating. Wondering how she can fit him into her program and plans, she leaves the room, leaving him alone with his feelings of pain and betrayal.
- - - - - - - - - -
Leaning back against the bar, the operative slowly cases the joint. It’s not his type of place; there’s sawdust and discarded peanut shells on the floor and the jukebox is blasting some sort of god-awful country-western music. There aren’t many people, but seeing how it’s early on a Tuesday night, it’s not a great surprise. A group of truck drivers are splitting a few pitchers of beer over at the table in front of the TV, two women who are obviously floozies are getting trashed out of their minds at the other end of the bar counter, and there’s a woman sitting by herself at a table near the bathrooms.
It’s that lone woman that gets his attention the most. Even in the dimly light bar, her blonde hair still shines and gleams. The light’s not as kind to her face, and he can see the wrinkles and laugh lines that betray her true age in spite of the makeup she hides behind. She’s got to be around forty, even though she’s dressed like she’s still in her early twenties. He’s been watching her for a while, and she’s been constantly drinking the entire time.
He pushes off the bar and strides over to her table, wishing that he could wear his normal sneakers instead of the cowboy boots that help him blend in more. “Mind if I sit here?”
She doesn’t even look up at him. “Knock yourself out.”
“Come here often?”
“Not often enough.” She tosses back another shot and slams the glass onto the scarred wooden tabletop. Winking at him, she asks, “wanna buy a girl a drink?”
This has got to be his easiest assignment ever. She’s not even going to give him a chance to use his charm or his powers on her. It’s almost a disappointment. “Sure thing, little lady,” he grins at her, “why don’t you name your poison for me?”
“Jack Daniels, straight. I like the way it… burns.” She giggles, and he acts like he has no clue why the statement’s funny.
“Can do. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and walks over to the bar, and gets her whiskey and a bottle of water for himself. She’s paying no attention to him, and he slips a sedative into her glass as he walks back over to the table. Sitting back down, he slides the doctored drink across the table to her.
“Thanks, mister. Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Meredith, and you are…?”
His smile reveals gleaming white teeth. “Highly interested.”
“And cocksure, too. Thanks for the drink, but nothing’s going to happen.” She just then notices his water, and gives him an odd look.
He catches the look, and quickly improvises. “Three weeks in AA. Feels good to come back to the old haunts, even if I don’t drink. This is the fourth try; I’m going to get it this time.” The lies easily flow from his lips, due to years of practice. “I’m Jack.”
“Don’t remember seeing you around her before.” She frowns, then shrugs. “Nevermind. Well, Jack, thank you again.” The fluidity of her movements as she raises the glass to her lips and drains it dry in one gulp reveals how common a practice it is to her. “Maybe I should give it a try sometime, but again, not interested yet.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m not trying to recruit. We all hit rock bottom eventually, maybe you’ll be interested then.” He starts his mental countdown - she should be passing out in less than a minute now.
“Already did. Lost my baby, lost everything.” Her words start to slur. “Lost my way.”
He slips his arm around her shoulders, trying to hide the fact that she’s starting to slump in her seat. “Happens to all of us, Meredith. You ok?”
There’s no response as her eyes roll back and her head falls back across his waiting arm. She’s a little woman, even if she could out-drink most men, and when he picks her up, he learns that she’s as light as a feather. No one even notices him carrying her out of the bar and loading her into the back of his van.
Checking the rearview mirror one last time, he grabs his cell phone as he puts the car in reverse. “Hey boss, this is Pearson, target acquired. No problems. Prep the cell; we’ll be there in about two hours.”
Chapter 7
Henri can’t stop himself from shouting when the bullet rips into his shoulder. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
Niki drops the gun, and runs over to his side. “Oh God, Henri. I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” She wraps her arms around him, trying to keep him from falling to the floor.
“Don’t worry about me. Go, quickly, get Micah, and leave town.” He gives the two women a slight grimace, his best attempt at a smile. “Truly, I am fine. I’ve got a doctor waiting for me at the airport. I know my men heard the gunshot-- you need to leave - now!”
When Niki hesitates, he pushes her away from him and motions at the window again. Niki looks at the window, and then at Claire, wondering if the petite girl can get through without help. The sudden pounding sound of Henri’s men trying to beat the door down is the only impetus the women need to scramble for the window and the safety it promises.
- - - - - - - - - -
Micah’s in the middle of his English class when his cell phone starts ringing. It wouldn’t be that odd of an occurrence, except for the fact that he’d turned the phone off that morning when he’d gotten to school. He’s wondering if it would do any good to press the mute button or not when the phone suddenly goes silent.
“Mr. Sanders,” his teacher barks at him, “is that your phone ringing? I believe you know how I feel about those… contraptions… in my class room.” The man sneers at him.
He briefly debates whether or not he should try to lie when the phone rings again, this time with a different ring. As soon as he recognizes the distinctive emergency siren, he dives for his book bag and runs from the classroom. He’d asked the phone to only play that particular ring in case his mom calls more than twice during a five minute period while he’s in class - the only way Mom would ever disrupt school is for a massive emergency. He flips the phone open frantically. “Mom, are you okay?”
“We’re fine, there’s been an attack on the house, I’m coming to get you. I’ll be at the gates within two minutes, meet me outside.”
Glancing about the empty hallways, he wonders if he’ll make it outside without being caught by one of the hall monitors or vice-principals. He takes off running towards the nearest side exit - it would be easier to circle to the front of the school from the outside than it would be to run through the hallways. He makes it to the gates just as Niki pulls up, and reaches for the passenger side door, only to notice there’s someone else in the car with his mother. Instead, he wrenches open the back door and tosses his book bag across the seat before jumping in.
“Mom, what’s going on?” He asks while looking at the redhead in the front seat. She looks so familiar to him, but he can’t place her. “Where are we going?”
Niki exchanges glances with the redhead, and the other woman just shrugs and turns to look out the window as they speed away from the school.
“The Company sent an assault team after Claire and me. I guess they didn’t think about the fact that you’d still be in school. As to where we’re going, I’m not sure - just away from here for now.” Niki looks at him through the rear view mirror. “Henri says hi.”
As soon as his mom says Claire, he immediately recognizes the other woman. He’s about to greet her when his phone starts ringing and vibrating again. This time, he’s got a text message.
‘M - Erase all NV file re CB b4 AP no go Mo - H’
He doesn’t even realize he’s talking out loud when he says, “now that’s strange.”
“What’s strange, baby?” Niki asks.
“A really strange text message; I can’t figure out who sent it - there’s no number or contact info.” When he asks the phone, there’s still no way of tracing the message, which makes the situation even stranger.
“Can I see?” Claire asks. “Maybe I can help,” she suddenly grins, “my dad used to joke that I was the queen of texting.”
He silently hands over the phone. She stares at it for just a minute before smiling again. “I think it’s from Henri; it’s about me and my grandmother.”
“Well, what does he want?” Niki asks as she speeds down the on-ramp to I-15.
“I’m not exactly sure. Erase all NV - Nevada? - files about me before my grandmother… something. No go mo, whatever that means.”
“What files would the state of Nevada have about you?” Niki glances over at Claire, only to see the girl playing with the gold ring again. “Oh. Right.” She abruptly cuts off her statement.
Claire toys with the ring for another minute, before sighing. She slips the ring off her finger and puts in her jeans pocket before twisting in her seat to face Micah.
“Micah, would you mind doing a favor for me please? I need you to hack into some government files - can you do that now, or do we need to stop and find you a computer?”
“I can do it on the phone, no problem. What am I looking for?” He’s already playing with the phone before he can even finish asking his questions.
“Get into the marriage license bureau.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Purge the license and everything related to it for Gabriel Gray and Claire Bennet.”
A few minutes later, and it’s like her marriage is nothing but a figment of her imagination.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Is he going to be okay?” A hint of anxiousness slips through the iciness of Angela’s voice.
The healer glances at the Haitian again. “He’ll be fine.” Realizing that she hadn’t specified which man she was talking about, he quickly clarifies. “Both of them are out cold - I’m going to keep them knocked out with sedatives until we land. That will give the Haitian time to heal, and it’s the only way to keep Sylar under control while the Haitian’s unconscious.”
“Good.” The anxiety is gone, and he realizes that she must have been worried about the Haitian. He’d never thought that Mrs. Petrelli was capable of caring about anything before, except for her job and her own family. “When will you be landing?”
Now he’s glad he talked to the pilot before she called. “In about an hour.”
“I’ll have guards and transportation waiting on you at the airport. Wake the Haitian immediately upon landing. He’ll decide if you should wake the prisoner or not.”
She hangs up before he can respond.
- - - - - - - - - -
Angela watches from the safety of the viewing room as several guards drag Sylar into his cell. They had had to sedate him on the ride to the Company, but the sedatives have worn off - again - and only Henri’s presence was properly preventing Sylar from killing them all. She doesn’t know what they’re going to do about sedating him; she’s starting to think that the only thing that will work will be the tranquilizers veterinarians use on elephants.
He’s fascinating to watch. Even being restrained as he is, he’s still fighting. The guards have him cuffed at both the wrist and ankles and there’s a collar around his neck, yet, somehow, he’s still managing to land blows on them. He gets his arms up and around the neck of the guard to his left, and is using the chain between his wrists to choke the man when another guard finally remembers he has a taser and uses it on Sylar.
The guards haul his trembling body over to the bed in the corner of the room, and quickly leave. Henri leaves with them, and she knows that he’s on his way back to his room, as par her prior orders. Nevertheless, she continues to watch, knowing that the show’s far from over yet. Years of research have finally figured out the distance at which the Haitian’s powers will no longer influence a subject, and she knows that any second now, Sylar’s powers will return.
She’s not disappointed by her decision to stay and watch. All the objects in the cell that aren’t bolted to the ground are suddenly flung at the walls. She didn’t realize that a water pitcher could be imbedded in a concrete wall before - fascinating. The man had obviously grown stronger since the last time anyone from the Company had encountered him. She’s suddenly glad they’d reinforced the room when he starts throwing the metal bed frame at the wall - the unmodified cell wouldn’t have been able to withstand that abuse.
Angela reaches over and taps the controls for the intercom. “Mr. Gray, would you please refrain from throwing a temper tantrum?”
It’s like he doesn’t hear her, but she knows better. When her boys were little, they were just the same way. She’d just have to wait until he’d exhausted himself. Settling back into her chair, she watches as he continues to trash his room.
The telekinetic assault on the walls continues until he’s broken everything into miniscule pieces. When he has nothing left to use as a weapon, he resorts to using his body. Really, Angela thinks, it’s amazing how strong he is. Lesser men would have given up already. He’d started screaming and shouting a little bit earlier, and his voice is strained by the time he notices that he’s broken several bones in his hand and arm in his attempts to physically beat the walls down. He slumps to floor, exhausted and in pain, leaving a streak of red on the wall from the wounds on his hand.
“Now, dear, have you gotten that out of your system?” She taps the intercom on again.
He snarls, but stays still.
“Mr. Gray, we can’t condone that sort of behavior, and therefore, the healers will not be helping you. Maybe by the time that the breaks heal, you will have learned your lesson.” She smiles, knowing that will never happen. “We have a few questions for you. First, we’ve heard reports that you had a companion with you - tell me about that.”
He sits there, perfectly still and silent.
“Really, you’re making this harder than it has to be for all of us. Tell me about the woman. Witnesses spotted you with a mysterious woman, but we didn’t find any traces of her in your room. I’d love to know the story about that.”
Again, no reaction. She wonders if maybe he’s too tired to respond and that she should wait a day or two.
“We’re going to find her, just so you know. It might be easier on her if you would cooperate with us. I’d hate for her to have to pay for your stubbornness.” Her voice is low and steady, and she knows he’ll understand the implied threat.
She’s expecting more silence, so she’s shocked when he violently erupts.
“You leave her alone. I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you as much as lay a finger on her!” The small table beside what’s left of his bed strains against its bolts, finally coming free, and he hurls it at the observation room. Angela instinctively ducks, even though she knows that it won’t break the glass. “Leave my family alone! I’ll kill you if you don’t leave my wife out of this!”
Wife? Angela wasn’t expecting that. She can tell the exact moment that Sylar realizes what he’s said, for he gets still and quiet again. She doesn’t get another word out of him for the rest of the evening, though he’s given her plenty to think about. She wasn’t expecting him to be so… fascinating. Wondering how she can fit him into her program and plans, she leaves the room, leaving him alone with his feelings of pain and betrayal.
- - - - - - - - - -
Leaning back against the bar, the operative slowly cases the joint. It’s not his type of place; there’s sawdust and discarded peanut shells on the floor and the jukebox is blasting some sort of god-awful country-western music. There aren’t many people, but seeing how it’s early on a Tuesday night, it’s not a great surprise. A group of truck drivers are splitting a few pitchers of beer over at the table in front of the TV, two women who are obviously floozies are getting trashed out of their minds at the other end of the bar counter, and there’s a woman sitting by herself at a table near the bathrooms.
It’s that lone woman that gets his attention the most. Even in the dimly light bar, her blonde hair still shines and gleams. The light’s not as kind to her face, and he can see the wrinkles and laugh lines that betray her true age in spite of the makeup she hides behind. She’s got to be around forty, even though she’s dressed like she’s still in her early twenties. He’s been watching her for a while, and she’s been constantly drinking the entire time.
He pushes off the bar and strides over to her table, wishing that he could wear his normal sneakers instead of the cowboy boots that help him blend in more. “Mind if I sit here?”
She doesn’t even look up at him. “Knock yourself out.”
“Come here often?”
“Not often enough.” She tosses back another shot and slams the glass onto the scarred wooden tabletop. Winking at him, she asks, “wanna buy a girl a drink?”
This has got to be his easiest assignment ever. She’s not even going to give him a chance to use his charm or his powers on her. It’s almost a disappointment. “Sure thing, little lady,” he grins at her, “why don’t you name your poison for me?”
“Jack Daniels, straight. I like the way it… burns.” She giggles, and he acts like he has no clue why the statement’s funny.
“Can do. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and walks over to the bar, and gets her whiskey and a bottle of water for himself. She’s paying no attention to him, and he slips a sedative into her glass as he walks back over to the table. Sitting back down, he slides the doctored drink across the table to her.
“Thanks, mister. Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Meredith, and you are…?”
His smile reveals gleaming white teeth. “Highly interested.”
“And cocksure, too. Thanks for the drink, but nothing’s going to happen.” She just then notices his water, and gives him an odd look.
He catches the look, and quickly improvises. “Three weeks in AA. Feels good to come back to the old haunts, even if I don’t drink. This is the fourth try; I’m going to get it this time.” The lies easily flow from his lips, due to years of practice. “I’m Jack.”
“Don’t remember seeing you around her before.” She frowns, then shrugs. “Nevermind. Well, Jack, thank you again.” The fluidity of her movements as she raises the glass to her lips and drains it dry in one gulp reveals how common a practice it is to her. “Maybe I should give it a try sometime, but again, not interested yet.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m not trying to recruit. We all hit rock bottom eventually, maybe you’ll be interested then.” He starts his mental countdown - she should be passing out in less than a minute now.
“Already did. Lost my baby, lost everything.” Her words start to slur. “Lost my way.”
He slips his arm around her shoulders, trying to hide the fact that she’s starting to slump in her seat. “Happens to all of us, Meredith. You ok?”
There’s no response as her eyes roll back and her head falls back across his waiting arm. She’s a little woman, even if she could out-drink most men, and when he picks her up, he learns that she’s as light as a feather. No one even notices him carrying her out of the bar and loading her into the back of his van.
Checking the rearview mirror one last time, he grabs his cell phone as he puts the car in reverse. “Hey boss, this is Pearson, target acquired. No problems. Prep the cell; we’ll be there in about two hours.”
Chapter 7