EPISODE VII
“Small Talk, Big Things”
Jeanette Curie, Carlos Diego, & Paul
Jeanette’s Apartment, Seattle
Paul sat still, elbows on his knees and hands on his chin, as he stared at the sleeping Carlos. Brown eyes stared mysteriously behind a single set of long bangs. He pondered, staring at the sleeping Carlos as Jeanette came from behind, holding a small tray of tea.
“H-here,” she whispered nervously, placing the tray of tea down on a stool beside Paul and staring down at Carlos herself, “How is he?” Paul simply stared pensively at Carlos for a moment before sighing and leaning back.
“He’s alright. Shaken up, but just resting now. He’ll be okay,” he replied, folding his arms as he stared at the sleeping male, “I didn’t mean for things to go this way…” There was silence as Jeanette poured herself a small cup of tea. She poured one for Paul and offered him the mug, but he did not move from his arms-folded position. He simply stared at Carlos, as if trying to discern some sort of answer from his comatose body. Jeanette simply sipped her tea, biting back the obvious questions ready to spill forth from her mouth. She opened her mouth several times, but shut it immediately after and took another sip of tea. Finally, on her fourth attempt to speak, Paul finally spoke.
“No, you were not imagining things,” he said quietly, purposefully, yet simply, “I do have… abilities.” Jeanette’s skin went cold, and she stared at the calm, thoughtful face of Paul. He still stared at Carlos, his eyes not moving from the unconscious high school student. Paul was slightly younger than Carlos, looking maybe 16 to Carlos’ 17, but there was something in Paul’s eyes that made him look much older. Maybe it was the faded, distant glaze in his stare, or maybe it was the weary way he held his body. It struck her just how different Paul and Carlos were, despite their closeness in age. Jeanette finally found her tongue.
“H-how did it happen?” she asked, her voice hoarse as she looked from Paul to Carlos, “How did you get these powers?”
“I don’t know,” Paul shrugged, staring at Carlos before finally breaking his gaze to look at Jeanette, “I woke up in Seattle six months ago, with only a gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.. No idea who I was or how I got there.” Jeanette’s eyes bulged and she choked slightly on her tea.
“S-so you have no idea who you are? You have amnesia?” she asked, semi-incredulous, and she could not help but let a slight hint of excitement into her voice. Paul didn’t seem to mind, if he noticed.
“No. All I had was this inked onto my arm,” he replied, rolling up his sleeve and showing Jeanette his pale forearm. Jeanette squinted, staring down at the dark black numbers tattooed into Paul’s arm. It was a simply eight digit number, and yet as she stared at it, she felt a trickle of fear rise up her spine.
“24601,” he mentions, staring back at Carlos as he recites it from memory, “Unsure of what it means…”
“How’d you know your name was Paul then?” asked Jeanette curiously, letting go of his arm as she stared at the mysterious 16 year old, “Can you remember that?”
“No,” he replied, and for the first time, a hint of bitterness entered his voice, “This was the only thing in my pocket when I woke up.” Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white business card. It was faded and yellow, like it been used for many years. On the front was printed in block numbers “24601.” Jeanette flipped it over and saw a single word scrawled in black ink.
“Paul,” she whispered, reading the card, and Paul nodded, simply staring at Carlos as Jeanette pondered the card.
“I’d been living in the streets these past six months. As I was wandering, I noticed Carlos shooting off fireballs into the sky one night. He had powers also. Up until that point, all I knew was that I had these powers. Carlos meant there was someone else out there. And if he had powers, so could anyone. I made it my point to follow him.”
“You’re the one everyone has been talking about,” gasped Jeanette, staring at Paul, “The weird guy creeping around the streets at night.”
“Huh, yeah…” replied Paul sourly, “The weird guy…” Jeanette instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over her.
“Paul, I’m so sorry, that was out of l-“ she started, but they both froze as Carlos groaned and rolled slightly, turning over before gently rubbing his head.
“Ugh, that’s the last time I take go eye-to-eye with Matt,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat him, unaware of the two staring at him, “What a hangover…”
“Do you want a glass of water?” asked Jeanette sincerely, and Carlos nodded groggily.
“Yeah, that’d be good…” he murmured, blinking slightly. He blinked once, catching a glance of Jeanette and Paul. He blinked again. Then it clicked in his brain.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he shouted, leaping back in bed and banging his head on the wall, “Wha-wher-who-“
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” said Jeanette hurriedly, “My name’s Jeanette. Jeanette Curie. You’re in my apartment, downtown Seattle.”
“Jeanette,” Carlos repeated, his brain beating against his skull, “Jeez, must’ve blacked out. I was.. uh.. Inebriated last night. Crazy, coulda sworn I was… running.”
“Oh, you were running after Paul,” replied Jeanette excitedly, “He was following you!” Paul slapped his forehead in exasperation as Carlos’ eyes widened, staring at the 16-year-old boy.
“You!” he shouted, grabbing his forehead in pain as he backed up, “You were the one following me!”
“Yeah,” replied Paul casually, staring at Carlos a bit disconcertingly, “I was interested in you.” Carlos’ eyebrows raised, and he raised his hands in defense, but Jeanette quickly intervened.
“He’s got abilities too!” she exclaimed, the words coming from her mouth even though she couldn’t quite believe she was saying them, “He saw you using them, and he needed to know more. He can’t remember his past.” Carlos stared at Paul who stared back enigmatically, before slowly lowering his hands. Carlos’ look of confusion and fear turned slowly into a look of curiosity and doubt. There was silence for a moment, and the two teenage boys stared at each other.
“Do you really have… powers?” asked Carlos, rubbing his temple, the hangover still clouding his ability to focus, “I… I thought I was the only one…” Paul did not answer, but simply tilted his head. A sudden breeze picked up in the house, and the steam rising from the tea whipped up into a small spiral before it died back down again. Jeanette’s mouth fell open as Carlos lifted his hand and opened his palm. A faint golden spark leaped from his skin and a small tongue of flame wriggled up, growing into a small fireball the size of a tennis ball. The golden light lit up the house like a lantern, and the orange glow reflected wonder and excitement in Jeanette’s eyes. Paul simply stared at it, completely absorbed by the mysticism of it.
“Guess it’s a party now,” muttered Carlos, as the three of them sat there, completely at a loss with the new revelation.
They were not alone.
Tse Brown
New York City, New York
Tse trudged up the stairs with his suitcase, grunting as he pulled the heavy bag up the single staircase. His dark brown eyes were slightly bagged, tired from the long journey, and as he finally approached the final step, he let the bag go with a sigh of relief. His broad shoulders slumped, and his breath wheezed out slightly. He coughed and picked up his bag again, trudging down the hallway.
“Gotta cut back on the smokes,” he coughed to himself slightly, feeling his heaving lungs, “This is just ridiculous.” Tse glanced at the apartment numbers, weary eyes scanning the small engraved plates as he made his way down the hall.
“314…315…316…” he muttered, and he stared at the door. 316 was a fairly normal wooden door… It was bare, slightly tinged in a reddish hue, but undoubtedly old. Tse stared at it for a moment, the memories flowing back to him. This door represented a lot for him…
The research… the work… could it hold… the breakthrough?
Tse reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver key. He stared at it for a moment, running his calloused fingers over the cool metal. He glanced back at the door, a faint hint of nervousness entering his heart.
What’s behind that door?
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, reaching forward and sliding the key into the lock. It turned easily, the bolt sliding back with a jerking grate. He slipped the key back into his pocket and turned the knob with a creak
The door swung open to a cloud of dark dust. Tse coughed slightly, standing silhouetted in the light of the hallway, his shadow cast creepily onto the faded wooden floor. Tse entered quietly, tossing his back to the floor and reaching to the side, his hand automatically finding the light switch he knew was there. His finger felt in the dark, memory guiding his hand effortlessly as he flipped it on, and a dingy yellow lightbulb lit up the darkness. Tse’s eyes narrowed slightly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he stared around at the small, yet completely filled apartment.
“You have been busy, Doctor,” he whistled, looking around at the cardboard boxes and filing cabinets, “What have you been doing?” He set his bag down at the door, propping it up, and walked over to the main desk, turning on the desk lamp and wiping a bit of dust off of an old white computer screen. He tapped a few keys, a frown on his face as the monitor remained unresponsive.
“Dead,” he muttered, turning to inspect the desk running his hands over the dusty surface, “Looks like he hasn’t been back for a while…”
“Who is there?” A harsh voice cut through the air, and Tse started, spinning on the spot as his heart skipped a beat. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted in the dusty light, was an old woman. She held a broom in her hand, long handle brandished as a club as a fierce fire burned in her eyes. Tse breathed easy, a smile crossing his face as he recognized the intense features upon the older woman.
“It’s been a long time, Jean,” he replied with a smile, stepping away from the desk and into the light. The old woman’s face twisted into a frown for a moment and then broadened in recognition.
“Tse Brown, you little devil, come here,” she exclaimed, a smile on her face as she tossed the broom aside and took him in a large hug. Tse had to bend over to greet the small, frail woman. “My god, you’ve gotten fat.”
“Hey, hey,” protested the Navajo, his large hands held up in defense, “Husky. I’m working a lot these days.”
“Mhmm, on what, the clearing the buffet line?” snapped back Jean with a grin, “Please, have you been eating nonstop since I last saw you?” She smiled fondly, patting his large hand. “It’s good to have you back. Brings back good memories.”
“Haha, always the rapier wit, Jean,” replied Tse with a smile on his face, a fond appreciation for the landlady growing in his heart, “We should grab a bite sometime. You, me, and the Doc, it’ll be like old times.” At these words, Jean’s expression froze, and a look of sympathy and disbelief came to her face.
“You… you don’t know?” she asked, a sudden change in tone coming over her voice. It went from sharp and strong to choking and throaty in a mere second. Tse instantly straightened, a look of concern on his face.
“Don’t know what?” he asked seriously, his heart skipping a beat as he took Jean in his hands, “What’s going on?”
“H-he is dead,” whispered Jean, a slight sob in her throat as a tear came to her eye, “He was killed in a car crash six months ago.”
Lila Wrothe & Stroma Vermilion
Seattle, Washington
“So… what exactly is this assignment?”
The plane skidded on the runway, flaps extending upward as the airplane began its quick slow-down. Lila felt herself thrown forward, and she held herself tight to the seat as she felt her stomach churn with the g-force. Stroma seemed oblivious to it all, writing notes in a small pad before typing away on his smartphone. As they soon as they had hit the runway, he had popped his phone out and begun sending furious emails. Lila simply sat nervously beside him as the plane began taxiing toward its gate. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she watched the mixed-eyed man write a final note down before slipping the pad into his bag. She cleared her throat.
“So… what exactly is thi-“
“I heard you the first time,” interrupted Stroma impatiently, his tone rising as he stared down the airplane aisle. People bustled about, trying to get their stuff together, and Stroma groaned, leaning back in his seat. “Damn it, it’s going to take forever to get out of here.” He paused for a moment, seething in his seat, and Lila hesitated, unsure if she should dare repeat her question a third time. However, she was rewarded when Stroma finally spoke, in a soft, matter of fact, yet intense voice.
“I’m writing an investigative expose on the Wisconsin Widower,” he stated, packing his bag and laptop together and zipping it shut, “You know, that serial killer that was killing off married men in Wisconsin the past six months.” Lila’s mouth fell open.
“Y-you’re investigating a serial killer?” she asked incredulously, fear clear in her voice, “Wha-who- but… I thought they said the killings had stopped?”
“Yeah, well we got a murder in Seattle that matches the Widower’s MO,” replied Stroma, glancing at his phone to read the message again, “Taxi driver. Throat slit in his own taxi, found on the outskirts of Seattle. Just about to be married. Sounds like our killer to me.” The blood drained from Lila’s face and she held onto the seat to steady herself.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her stomach churning even more than when the plane was landing, “This is too much…”
“Hey, don’t get soft on me now, Wrothe,” replied Stroma with a snap, his mixed-colored eyes staring at her as he stood, slinging the bag over his shoulder, “Where’s that drive and passion you were spouting on about in LA? You wanted this job, you gotta show me your guts. This is the hunt, Wrothe. The search, the thirst for knowledge. This is the exciting part.” Lila couldn’t help but admire the pure look of determination on Stroma’s face. She felt the feeling of want, of pure willpower to find the story burning up inside of her. In a single moment, bravado took hold of her, and she grabbed his shoulder, a wild grin on her face.
“Let’s do this,” she said with gusto, slinging her own bag onto her back, and Stroma returned her grin with smirk of his own.
“Let’s go, Wrothe,” he replied, cracking his knuckles slightly as they began to move down the aisle, “Time to catch ourselves a killer.”
Jeanette, Paul, & Carlos
Jeanette’s Apartment, Seattle
The three of them sat around Jeanette’s kitchen table, sipping at mugs of tea. Carlos sat with a haggard look on his face, his eyes underlined in shadows, the tea held in his hands as if more for comfort than for sustenance. Paul sat straight up, sipping his tea as he stared off into space, his young eyes strangely contrasting the wisdom that was reflected in them. Jeanette forced herself to remain calm, but the excitement was causing her heart to beat like a drum. Two superheroes… in her apartment! She glanced from the mysterious Paul to the bad-boy Carlos and couldn’t help but let out a small sigh as she sipped her tea.
“You say something?” muttered Carlos, rubbing his temples as he glanced up at Jeanette, who promptly blushed, her already dark skin blushing even darker.
“N-no,” she said quickly, drinking her tea faster, “I was- I was just thinking. About you two…”
“Yeah…” replied Carlos, his eyes downcast as he sipped at his tea, “I had no idea there were others… I mean, I always figured there could be, but I never saw any evidence of it. No one at school ever gave any hint that they had any… abilities, at least as far as I know.”
“You know about as much as me,” said Paul, his voice low and calm, “I awoke with these powers, I have no idea how I got them. That is why I followed you. I figured that you might hold some answers.”
“I’m sorry I don’t,” muttered Carlos, leaning back slightly as he pondered the thought, “It’s a mystery… your past, our powers… it can’t be a coincidence that you just happened to wake up with these powers in a place where another person has similar abilities.”
“Yeah,” replied Jeanette, a bit of excitement leaking out into her voice, “It must be connected! Your powers, Paul’s past, it all has to be connected somehow! That’s how it always works!” Carlos sighed and Paul looked thoughtfully at Jeanette.
“It’s a mystery, and I’ve got no idea how it will be solved,” he stated, his voice almost ethereal as he set his tea on the table, “However, I think it best if we stick together. Carlos, if you and I can figure out how these powers came to us, maybe we can uncover my past as well.”
“I’m in!” replied Jeanette brightly, a hint of sadness masked by her cheeriness, “It’s okay that I don’t have powers right? I can be like.. your guys’ confidante! Or partner. I have lots of library access, I’m sure I can be of use!” Paul nodded and they both turned to look at Carlos. His face was dark, the hangover accentuating his already confused look. He didn’t speak for a while, but eventually nodded.
“I’m in,” he stated, placing his mug by Paul and Jeanette’s, “Let’s do this.”
Tse Brown
Downtown NY Cemetery, New York
Tse stared at the tombstone, a heavy weight bearing down on his heart. The sky was dark and cloudy, a few drops of rain dropping from the heavens as Tse stood among the grass and the graves. He stared down at the engraved stone and sighed, his throat clenched in on himself. His hands clenched, his dark hair slightly wet with the falling raindrops, but he did not move. He simply stared down at the grave of his colleague, an immense sadness binding him to the spot.
We had our differences… we had different theologies and philosophies about genetics… but he was a good man with good intentions… and I just left him in the dark
He slipped his left hand into his pocket, his other hand holding a small bunch of fox-tail orchids. He lay the purple flowers on the small gray gravestone, and wiped a single regretful tear from his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and full of regret, “I’m sorry we couldn’t resolve our differences. You were a good man, and your path was one of goodness and righteousness. I just couldn’t walk that path with you.” He stepped a single step backwards and leaned his head forward, his eyes shut and his mouth whispering a simple Navajo prayer. He raised his hands in blessing, sending the spirit forth. There was silence as the rain gently plopped faster. Tse took one last look at the grave before turning away.
“Rest in peace, my friend,” he whispered, “May the next life be less complex than this one…” As he left, footsteps fading out of the graveyard, a gentle water droplet slid down the gravestone. The purple flowers gently lay there, unmoving as the gray headstone stood humbly over them, like a watchful guardian.
I will finish what we started, my friend...
The gravestone read:
Here lies
Dr. Mohinder Suresh
April 8th, 1974 – August 15th, 2010
A Brilliant Man and an Honorable Son
Lila Wrothe & Stroma Vermilion
Seattle, Washington
“Come on Wrothe, we gotta get to the crime scene!”
Stroma waved his hand impatiently as another taxi sped by. He swore as it zoomed on by them, and threw his hands up in the air.
“Can’t a guy get a goddamn taxi in this city?” he shouted, Lila standing awkwardly in the background, “We need to move now! Every second lost is a second the story gets colder!” Lila felt a sudden desperation take over her body, and her fingernails tightened against her palm. She suddenly, purposefully, strode forward, walking out into the middle of the street. A taxi squeeled in front of her, tires breaking wildly as it slid to a stop in front of her. She slammed her hand on the hood and stared right into the taxi-cab driver’s eyes. His eyes widened, his mouth open to swear at her, but he shut it immediately.
“That’s what I’m talking about Wrothe,” shouted Stroma, his voice containing a slight hint of being impressed, “Let’s roll out.” They both quickly slipped into the cab, which peeled away from the curb.
As the cab pulled away, a phone booth beside the street opened. A single woman strode out, a slim-fitting black hoodie zipped tight against her body, her tight jeans not impeding her swift movement forward. She disappeared into the crowd, one hand in her pocket, the other clutching a torn piece of paper, a page torn out of the phone book. Bright purple eyes gleamed out of the shadow of the hood as she stared down at the names on the page.
“Smith…” she whispered, folding the page and slipping it into her pocket as she slipped into the gaggles of people, disappearing into the streets of Seattle.
TO BE CONTINUED…
