Anise was actually sleeping well for once. When morning came, she was curled up on her side, her arms tightly hugging her pillow in the same way they would usually hold Tokunaga
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Depth Charge rolled over in his bed with a low groan, dragging his pillow over his head to blot out the sound of Landel's voice- the sound might have surprised him a moment or so before, but once the deja vu had kicked in and he realised that most of the message was strangely familiar he'd shaken it off in favour of trying to get back to sleep. What, were they seriously just replaying old messages? Give me a break.But with the military still around breaks were about as easy to come by as mercy, so it wasn't long before his usual soldier stopped by to drag him out and into the open. And even if he'd been dressed in the old nurse's uniforms (???), he was as unyielding as ever. Scowling, Depth Charge decided he didn't have to feel too bad about sleeping the night through anymore; from the sounds of it going out and fighting back was just what Aguilar wanted, so staying in was just another way for him to ding the guy's diodes
( ... )
Peter didn't know what it was, but something about running into Sylar at night made it all end far too quickly. He would have thought it'd be the opposite -- that having to spend time with the killer would have made it drag by extremely slowly -- but in the end this was the usual result. It did mean that Claire hadn't been pestered by the man, but it also meant that Peter had given up yet another night. It was a good thing that he hadn't had much in the way of plans, but still -- he could have used that time to help someone who was injured
( ... )
If there was one thing Depth Charge could bring himself to be grateful for, it was the fact that the uniform swap for the day meant that it was a slag-load more comfortable for him to relax now that he didn't have a stiff collar and stiffer boots to contend with. He'd never really understood the point of all that ceremonial stuff; he'd seen 'bots spend hours polishing their medals and weaponry but not know the first thing about actually staying alive in a fight, never mind keeping other people alive.
Not that he could really be comfortable anyway on these pews. Maybe the Sun Room would have been a better choice- though that was on the other end of the scale, so comfortable that there was a good chance of him drifting off again. Which was not what he needed
( ... )
Peter felt some relief when Depth Charge immediately responded to him and didn't exhibit any signs of being in pain or having a headache. Usually it was pretty obvious; eyes might be out of focus and there was just a general look of misery about a person who was suffering from one
( ... )
That didn't sound too promising, especially not when the smile it came with sent Depth Charge's memory core into overdrive once it clicked that he'd seen it before. When they'd first met out in the courtyard- was that more than two weeks now? Primus, that felt like an age ago- he'd wore the same troubled half-smile before they'd launched into a conversation on death.
And Forte. Forte had turned up in there, too.
It was probably a good idea to tackle the radio first- and it wasn't like that wasn't an endless fountain of conversational drama by itself, anyway. "No kidding?" he answered, disbelieving. "Of all the people to team up with. Man, I don't know how I feel about that." He shook his head, as if it would help shift things into perspective. "That Marc guy... he's smart, yeah, but when I talked to him a while back he seemed like a real green horn. The idea of Landel getting his chromium-plated claws into him isn't pretty
( ... )
The whole situation with Marc and Landel wasn't one that was easy to accept in any way, so Peter didn't blame Depth Charge for struggling with what he thought of it. While he had never met Marc face-to-face, it seemed like Depth Charge might have. That was interesting, although from the sounds of it the guy might be in over his head. Well, that was more or less confirmed now that Landel had managed to weasel his way in there
( ... )
Now there was something he hadn't thought about. Did Marc have any sort of weapons? Depth Charge combed his memory of the man's mountain bunk for any sort of guns or blades or weaponry, but he hadn't really been concentrating on his surroundings too hard that night and he couldn't build up a satisfying enough picture.
"I don't remember seeing any sort of weapons," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "but knowing Landel, there's only so much good those'll do anyway." There were the mind games to consider still, the Head Doctor's forte- and unsteady Marc, all on his own out there, seemed like a worryingly ripe target.
Still, if there was one thing they could do, it was find out just how genuine the Head Doctor was being to them. "Got it. If he's lying to us, he's probably lying to Marc, too. There might be some way we can get the message to him." Did he sound unconvinced? ... yeah, he was unconvinced. But it was something, and he'd managed to turn clinging to pathetically tiny odds into an art form over the years
( ... )
The more that Depth Charge talked, the more it became clear that he'd seen Marc's hideout with his own eyes. Even if the man was now under Landel's thumb, Peter was still curious to hear about all that. "So... you met him?" he asked, figuring that the rest of it was just speculation and didn't require much of a response. They both already knew that Marc was probably in danger and that Landel was probably lying, so at this point Peter decided to gather what information he could
( ... )
Oh, yeah. He hadn't told Peter about that run-in, had he? Depth Charge had figured it would probably be best to limit who he told about Marc and where he and Hime had found him- you never knew who might be giving away details to, or where those details would go afterwards- but Peter was the last person he couldn't trust with those details.
"Yep. It was on the night the doors messed up- me and Hi-" a quick correction, "the person I was with ended up at this bunker, and there he was. In the flesh. Seemed kinda young, but what do I know? At least we can trust him." And really, he did. It was stupid of him, maybe, but he so rarely let himself trust anyone that maybe it was worth listening to his instincts with it
( ... )
A bunker, huh? Well, it made sense to Peter that it was only possible to actually get to Marc when there was no control over it, though that meant that finding him again was likely to be either impossible or very difficult. He wondered if Depth Charge had been trying, or if he'd just decided to turn his sights to the basement after that
( ... )
Depth Charge had figured as much- even if he had his doubts about Peter being too much of a nice guy, it was pretty obvious by now that there was something more than just plain dumb luck keeping him alive. You didn't skirt by on coincidences here; the only ones of those you were likely to run into were the ones that offed you in ten nanokliks flat.
So obviously there was something he was missing here- maybe he had some of those flashy magical powers he'd seen people showing off in the hallways and just wasn't too vocal about it, or maybe he'd been trained in some sort of lost martial art. Or maybe, just maybe, he represented one in a million and actually had a good head on his shoulders and knew how to stay out of trouble.
As Peter changed the subject the Maximal found that it was a mixture of the two. "Healers?" he repeated, blinking. Oh, yeah. The guy was a trained medic of some sort, from what he'd heard. That probably helped. If there was one skill that was just as useful as being able to get out of scrapes, it was being able to
( ... )
It wasn't that much of a surprise to learn that Depth Charge didn't know much. He didn't seem like the healer sort and probably didn't make a habit of associating with them. Peter imagined that when Depth Charge got injured he tended to just deal with it instead of seeking out help
( ... )
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Not that he could really be comfortable anyway on these pews. Maybe the Sun Room would have been a better choice- though that was on the other end of the scale, so comfortable that there was a good chance of him drifting off again. Which was not what he needed ( ... )
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And Forte. Forte had turned up in there, too.
It was probably a good idea to tackle the radio first- and it wasn't like that wasn't an endless fountain of conversational drama by itself, anyway. "No kidding?" he answered, disbelieving. "Of all the people to team up with. Man, I don't know how I feel about that." He shook his head, as if it would help shift things into perspective. "That Marc guy... he's smart, yeah, but when I talked to him a while back he seemed like a real green horn. The idea of Landel getting his chromium-plated claws into him isn't pretty ( ... )
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"I don't remember seeing any sort of weapons," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "but knowing Landel, there's only so much good those'll do anyway." There were the mind games to consider still, the Head Doctor's forte- and unsteady Marc, all on his own out there, seemed like a worryingly ripe target.
Still, if there was one thing they could do, it was find out just how genuine the Head Doctor was being to them. "Got it. If he's lying to us, he's probably lying to Marc, too. There might be some way we can get the message to him." Did he sound unconvinced? ... yeah, he was unconvinced. But it was something, and he'd managed to turn clinging to pathetically tiny odds into an art form over the years ( ... )
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"Yep. It was on the night the doors messed up- me and Hi-" a quick correction, "the person I was with ended up at this bunker, and there he was. In the flesh. Seemed kinda young, but what do I know? At least we can trust him." And really, he did. It was stupid of him, maybe, but he so rarely let himself trust anyone that maybe it was worth listening to his instincts with it ( ... )
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So obviously there was something he was missing here- maybe he had some of those flashy magical powers he'd seen people showing off in the hallways and just wasn't too vocal about it, or maybe he'd been trained in some sort of lost martial art. Or maybe, just maybe, he represented one in a million and actually had a good head on his shoulders and knew how to stay out of trouble.
As Peter changed the subject the Maximal found that it was a mixture of the two. "Healers?" he repeated, blinking. Oh, yeah. The guy was a trained medic of some sort, from what he'd heard. That probably helped. If there was one skill that was just as useful as being able to get out of scrapes, it was being able to ( ... )
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