He'd gone for a walk to clear his head between classes when he caught sight of her: very attractive, very angry woman in fur, red leather, and heels - like a very bad combination of Angela Petrelli and Niki Sanders dressed for the Met and dumped at the beach.
Mohinder suppressed a shudder at the mental image. In fact, he would have kept right on walking, except that when he'd been new, people had been kind. Good karma, whether he believed in it or not.
"Not, perhaps, a Damsel in Distress. But possibly a Damsel in Distinctly Impractical Shoes," Mohinder observed with a wry smile.
"Thirteen hundred dollars worth of Distinctly Impractical Shoes," Monet said, turning in the boots to appraise the man. She could take him down without even breaking a sweat. Monet smiled her friendliest, and by friendliest think sub zero temperatures, smile at the man. "You don't happen to know where I can find a phone do you? My communicator seems to be broken."
Once, her smile might have sent him quailing back to his lab. After Sylar, Angela and Nathan Petrelli, it took more than a displaced diva to break his composure. He offered a small, politically neutral smile and open-handed gesture toward the interior of the island. "Your communicator won't work here, unless someone else on the island has a matching one. And even if there were a phone, you couldn't place an outside call."
After that his smile faded, but his tone warmed, becoming more genuine. "Wherever you were, you're not there and then anymore, and you're not going back. I'm sorry." He might've broken it to her more gently, he supposed, but she didn't strike him as a wilting violet. For him, facts had helped him get a hold on the situation more quickly.
"There and then? I kind of guessed this wasn't Paris," Monet said with a small laugh. His voice reminded her of something but she couldn't figure out what or who it was. The heat was probably making her light headed and stupid. Monet followed him, not losing her balance once in the awkward terrain. She'd done runways in higher heels than this. "Great; no communicator, no phones, next you'll tell me there isn't a decent bottle of champagne around. The day I've had I could really use a drink."
And Terry wasn't here to make her feel guilty about drinking it either. Damn alcoholics.
"No champagne," Mohinder affirmed. "And, your day is only beginning. But if you'd like a drink before you hear that everything you thought you knew has been turned inside out, I know where to find one."
His technique lacked finesse. He needed to talk to Jack again and learn the orientation lecture. He smiled, offering his arm to help her off the sand up to the path toward the Compound. "I'm Mohinder. Mohinder Suresh. Welcome to Tabula Rasa."
Suresh- why the hell did that name ring a bell? And his voice... the way that he was talking, it was so familiar.
"Monet St. Croix, you can call me M." Monet said, glancing at his offered arm. Raising an eyebrow at him, she eventually took it. "Not that I don't appreciate a good Island vacation now and then, who do I have to thank personally for this little...trip?"
If she hadn't been holding his arm, he'd have rubbed both hands over his face. Now the island itself was in on it? Since he'd arrived here he'd been getting X-men, X-team, Xavier Academy clothes, books, movies. Now the newest addition to the island that he had happened to stumble over, just happened to be one of the very few 'mutants' to have survived the DeciMation with her powers intact...
She knew that voice from somewhere, it was driving her mad where she knew it from. The way he went on though was extremely familiar to her, he sounded like Beast or Xavier when they went on one of their long rambling speeches.
"There's no one you know of yet," Monet said, disbelievingly. She'd seen too many plots with a bad guy or a villain at the end of it all lurking in the shadows to believe that this was all just some weird coincidence. "Junk DNA? So it's just mutants then on the Island?"
The government was the likely offender then with all the Registration acts that they kept throwing around.
Naturally, she did not believe him. After the events chronicles in House of M and DeciMation, he could hardly expect her to. Even before that, Monet's life had been such that she it would be nearly impossible for her to accept that there was no going back and no one to blame. He had because there was nothing for him to go back to, but she would not feel the same.
It was, however improbable after so many trapped here more than two years already, possible that M was correct, he supposed. He shrugged his head in acknowledgment. "It's always possible there might be someone, some pattern I and others have yet to determine. But it would have to be someone with a broad and sadistic sense of humor. Someone with extraordinary abilities." Like Wanda Maximoff, but this, he believed beyond even the Scarlet Witch.
He paused to help her up to the path. "The inhabitants of Tabula Rasa come from many different worlds, many different times... Perhaps this will go easier if you allow me to explain, first?"
"Oh, believe me I know plenty of those." Monet said, allowing him to help her for the moment. She didn't like it and some small part of her was kicking her for allowing anyone else to help her. "Explain away, it's not like I have anywhere to go apparently."
"I know at least one myself," Mohinder admitted, although Sylar lacked the powers necessary to manage something like the island. And, Mohinder suspected, the attention span. There would be nothing to be gained from it, even had he survived Peter 'killing him' here on the island.
Naturally, now that M had agreed to let him explain, Mohinder regretted not letting her ask questions as she wished. "Beginning at the beginning, then. You are on Tabula Rasa, a small island with a climate that approximates that of Hawaii. To the best of anyone's knowledge, it exists in no particular place or time. I have met a prehistoric cave-girl and a human doctor from hundreds of years in my future. Among the inhabitants also are a goddess, a star, the anthropomorphized form of insanity, and people whom you may have believed to be fictional, such as Lara Croft. Each have come by no design of their own and the only known way to leave is to die."
"So you're saying if I want to leave, I have to die-well screw that." Monet, or rather M, said to that. Monet herself made a very conscious everyday not to kill herself, to remain strong and in control. She had to be M, she had to be in control otherwise everything else would fall apart. "I'm not dying for an Island. Is there anything else I should know?"
Mohinder shook his head fractionally. "People leave without dying. They vanish without warning, the same as they came. The only way to leave, more or less by your own doing, is to die." He opened his hand to gesture up the path toward his hut where he had a bottle of moonshine that he'd gotten from Ianto. "The IPD, Island Police Department, frowns on that, though."
Tugging the sleeves of his shirt straight, he grimaced apologetically. "And, yes, there's plenty more you'll need to know. Some of it ought to wait for a drink, though." Like finding out she was depowered. That would go easier if he could get her to talk a bit. "Some of it is just peculiar, for example, the clothing box, jukebox, bookshelf, and video shelf that have minds of their own as it were."
Mohinder suppressed a shudder at the mental image. In fact, he would have kept right on walking, except that when he'd been new, people had been kind. Good karma, whether he believed in it or not.
"Not, perhaps, a Damsel in Distress. But possibly a Damsel in Distinctly Impractical Shoes," Mohinder observed with a wry smile.
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After that his smile faded, but his tone warmed, becoming more genuine. "Wherever you were, you're not there and then anymore, and you're not going back. I'm sorry." He might've broken it to her more gently, he supposed, but she didn't strike him as a wilting violet. For him, facts had helped him get a hold on the situation more quickly.
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And Terry wasn't here to make her feel guilty about drinking it either. Damn alcoholics.
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His technique lacked finesse. He needed to talk to Jack again and learn the orientation lecture. He smiled, offering his arm to help her off the sand up to the path toward the Compound. "I'm Mohinder. Mohinder Suresh. Welcome to Tabula Rasa."
Reply
"Monet St. Croix, you can call me M." Monet said, glancing at his offered arm. Raising an eyebrow at him, she eventually took it. "Not that I don't appreciate a good Island vacation now and then, who do I have to thank personally for this little...trip?"
Reply
If she hadn't been holding his arm, he'd have rubbed both hands over his face. Now the island itself was in on it? Since he'd arrived here he'd been getting X-men, X-team, Xavier Academy clothes, books, movies. Now the newest addition to the island that he had happened to stumble over, just happened to be one of the very few 'mutants' to have survived the DeciMation with her powers intact...
On an island that would strip them...
And he would be the one to tell her ( ... )
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"There's no one you know of yet," Monet said, disbelievingly. She'd seen too many plots with a bad guy or a villain at the end of it all lurking in the shadows to believe that this was all just some weird coincidence. "Junk DNA? So it's just mutants then on the Island?"
The government was the likely offender then with all the Registration acts that they kept throwing around.
Reply
It was, however improbable after so many trapped here more than two years already, possible that M was correct, he supposed. He shrugged his head in acknowledgment. "It's always possible there might be someone, some pattern I and others have yet to determine. But it would have to be someone with a broad and sadistic sense of humor. Someone with extraordinary abilities." Like Wanda Maximoff, but this, he believed beyond even the Scarlet Witch.
He paused to help her up to the path. "The inhabitants of Tabula Rasa come from many different worlds, many different times... Perhaps this will go easier if you allow me to explain, first?"
Reply
Reply
Naturally, now that M had agreed to let him explain, Mohinder regretted not letting her ask questions as she wished. "Beginning at the beginning, then. You are on Tabula Rasa, a small island with a climate that approximates that of Hawaii. To the best of anyone's knowledge, it exists in no particular place or time. I have met a prehistoric cave-girl and a human doctor from hundreds of years in my future. Among the inhabitants also are a goddess, a star, the anthropomorphized form of insanity, and people whom you may have believed to be fictional, such as Lara Croft. Each have come by no design of their own and the only known way to leave is to die."
Reply
Reply
Tugging the sleeves of his shirt straight, he grimaced apologetically. "And, yes, there's plenty more you'll need to know. Some of it ought to wait for a drink, though." Like finding out she was depowered. That would go easier if he could get her to talk a bit. "Some of it is just peculiar, for example, the clothing box, jukebox, bookshelf, and video shelf that have minds of their own as it were."
Reply
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