YEARS GONE
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter IV: The Face of Evil
Headquarters of the First Secret Brigade
Somewhere in the United States
Monday 18 May 2021
“Corporal, HALT!”
The corporal, leading a small squad in their daily marches. Colonel Jake Harris paced
around in circles for a few moments.
“You are all much better than last time. Continue. MARCH!”
The squad immediately began marching again. Harris crossed his arms as they left. He
noted some things in a notebook, and left the training field for the General’’s office.
“Inspections are complete, sir.”
“Good,” the General whispered. The General’s office was very large, complete with a
TV and fireplace, carpeting, and a sofa. A modern-style steel desk sat in the back, by a
wall made of windows. It was wood-paneled. To the right of the General’s desk was a
door. Though he had never been through it, Harris knew for a fact that it contained a
bedroom--the General preffered to stay at headquarters.
The General was sitting on the sofa with his feet on an ottoman, staring at the blank TV
screen, “Colonel Cornwellson says one of YOUR men turned his abilities on one of her
men.”
Harris stepped in to the office. The door closed behind him, “Corporal Yen, yes he did.
I will talk to him.”
The General turned around, “You’re damn fucking right you’ll talk to him. Aren’t you
aware of what he can do?”
Harris rolled his eyes, “Yes, cause burns without fire.”
“Well?” the General got up and walked over to his desk. Harris followed, “Cut him off
from his booze.”
“Is there any fucking thing else?”
“Don’t mock me,” the General jabbed a finger at him as he sat down, “I’m still nervous
about having you people around.”
“Glad to serve with you too, sir.”
The General shook his head as he shuffled through papers, “Any news from their
hole?”
“Other than our burn victim, no.”
“The reservation, you idiot!”
“Of course sir,” Harris took out his notepad and said, “We believe Petrelli took out
Gordon-Hernandez for a meeting somewhere. She has since returned. An emergency
session of the City Council will be held today for an unspecified reason, closed-door,”
he paused, “It makes me wonder. They have so much secrecy about this meeting.”
“You think those sugs know anything?”
“THOSE sugs? I have no idea. As for THIS sug,” he patted his heart.
“Oh, shut up,” Maslarak muttured, “You’re one. Go and tell someone who cares,” He
found the paper he was looking for and read through it, smiling.
“What? Sir?”
“It would appear that Phase One is ready. Tell those involved I order it’s
implementation ASAP.”
“Of course, sir.”
---------------------------------
Poonamallee, India
Tuesday 19 May 2021, 11:37 AM (Indian Time)
Sanjog lived in a tall apartment building that overlooked Chembarambakkam Lake.
Given that the whole area was urbanized, though, it wasn't much of a view.
The first thing Claude had noticed when he had come to the apartment, about a day
ago, was the small shrine in what passed for the living room. Claude had assumed it
was of a religious nature, but as Claude came in to inspect it now he noticed that the
centerpiece was a picture of a young man and woman in a traditional Indian wedding.
The man was Sanjog, but he'd never seen the woman before.
"That's my wife, Madhulekha. She was murdered two years ago."
Sanjog had startled him--he had been in another room--and Claude jumped a little. "I'm
sorry. What happened?"
Sanjog stared at the floor, "There ARE anti-SG militants in this country. We were an
'unnatural marriage' so said her own father--even though he had arranged it in the first
place. She was killed by her own family."
"What happened to them?"
"Still awaiting trial. Our justice system is notoriously slow," he looked up, "I'm packed
now."
"Ah good!" Claude said, eager to change the subject, "Nirand should be here any
minute now. He called last night and said he got the tickets. We'll be going to meet this
Amita first, and then we'll be going to America. He also said that something odd has
been happening to the people on his List."
"Odd how?"
Claude scratched his head, "Well, five of them have got some sort of bloody rash on
their backs. And if it's what I think it is..."
Claude fell silent and seemed to stare off into space. Sanjog walked closer to him,
"What?"
"Well, about thirty years ago I worked for an organization."
"What organization?"
"The 'Linderman Group Special Projects Division,' though those of us who worked their
just called it 'The Company'--or OWI, which was a joke on the fact that--never mind,
that's not important. The Company would kidnap any SG's it found and study them
overnight. They got implants," Claude pulled back his collar, revealing a terrible scar,
"a microchip in my case, though just a bit Before it became some sort of liquid
substance."
Sanjog noted how Claude seemed to say "Before," meaning the period prior to
November 8, 2006, without the wistful reverence others did, even Tamil speakers like
Nirand.
"And how much does it bleed?"
"What?"
"You said 'a bloody rash'..."
"Oh! No, that's just a figure of speech we Brits use."
Sanjog nodded. Claude opened his mouth to say something, but before he could,
Nirand burst into the room.
"Sanjog! Turn on a TV, quickly!"
Sanjog gestured around at his apartment, "Does it look like I can afford one?"
Nirand groaned and grabbed them both and dragged them out into the hallway.
"What happened?" Sanjog asked.
"We're going to a bar on the next block. There's a TV there."
"What HAPPENED Nirand?" Claude shouted. Nirand didn't respond, but kept running.
"If you're gonna show us the news, it's gonna be in bloody Tamil, so just tell ME and
drag SANJOG there on his own."
Nirand stopped abruptly. Sanjog and Claude kept running, though, nearly tripping in
the process.
"Very well," Nirand said, "There was just a bombing at Parliament."
"How many?"
"The Prime Minister, for one," he said, "He was just about to support a bill that would
eliminate the Passbook and modify the SG Registry Act."
Sanjog was muttering something. Claude wondered if he was praying.
"I know you're used to this in America--"
"The last four presidents have been assassinated," Claude said, "So were the last
three kings of England."
"--but this sort of violence is relatively new to us," Nirand concluded. "The entire
nation is going to be in a panic."
Claude stared at the floor for a moment, "I suppose this means we aren't gonna be able
to leave town?"
"That's all you have to say?!" Sanjog shouted.
"Well, excuse ME!" Claude spun around, "But in case you've forgotten, there's a
bloody loon who's gonna kill many more than this stupid bomb and YOU'RE the only
one who can stop him!"
Claude jabbed a finger at him, "So quite mourning for your president--"
"Prime Minister," Nirand corrected.
"--And focus on what bloody counts, got it?!" Claude took a cell phone from out of his
coat pocket, "I'll call Peter and have him beam us out of here."
“Wait,” Nirand said, “Your assumption that there will be some sort of blockade to keep
us in town is only minimally correct. We may find trouble getting you across the border
and into Andhra Pradesh State, but considering the fact that you managed to get in the
country, I doubt that it will be a problem.”
“So that’s it?”
“I’ll get the car ready,” Nirand ran down the hallway. Claude turned to Sanjog, who
gave him a hurt look.
“WHAT?!” he snapped.
“How can you be so cold?” Sanjog whispered.
“I don’t have time to NOT be,” He grabbed Sanjog’s hand and began pulling him, “Let’s
go. You’ve got yourself a bloody world to save, kid.”
End Part Four
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter IV: The Face of Evil
Headquarters of the First Secret Brigade
Somewhere in the United States
Monday 18 May 2021
“Corporal, HALT!”
The corporal, leading a small squad in their daily marches. Colonel Jake Harris paced
around in circles for a few moments.
“You are all much better than last time. Continue. MARCH!”
The squad immediately began marching again. Harris crossed his arms as they left. He
noted some things in a notebook, and left the training field for the General’’s office.
“Inspections are complete, sir.”
“Good,” the General whispered. The General’s office was very large, complete with a
TV and fireplace, carpeting, and a sofa. A modern-style steel desk sat in the back, by a
wall made of windows. It was wood-paneled. To the right of the General’s desk was a
door. Though he had never been through it, Harris knew for a fact that it contained a
bedroom--the General preffered to stay at headquarters.
The General was sitting on the sofa with his feet on an ottoman, staring at the blank TV
screen, “Colonel Cornwellson says one of YOUR men turned his abilities on one of her
men.”
Harris stepped in to the office. The door closed behind him, “Corporal Yen, yes he did.
I will talk to him.”
The General turned around, “You’re damn fucking right you’ll talk to him. Aren’t you
aware of what he can do?”
Harris rolled his eyes, “Yes, cause burns without fire.”
“Well?” the General got up and walked over to his desk. Harris followed, “Cut him off
from his booze.”
“Is there any fucking thing else?”
“Don’t mock me,” the General jabbed a finger at him as he sat down, “I’m still nervous
about having you people around.”
“Glad to serve with you too, sir.”
The General shook his head as he shuffled through papers, “Any news from their
hole?”
“Other than our burn victim, no.”
“The reservation, you idiot!”
“Of course sir,” Harris took out his notepad and said, “We believe Petrelli took out
Gordon-Hernandez for a meeting somewhere. She has since returned. An emergency
session of the City Council will be held today for an unspecified reason, closed-door,”
he paused, “It makes me wonder. They have so much secrecy about this meeting.”
“You think those sugs know anything?”
“THOSE sugs? I have no idea. As for THIS sug,” he patted his heart.
“Oh, shut up,” Maslarak muttured, “You’re one. Go and tell someone who cares,” He
found the paper he was looking for and read through it, smiling.
“What? Sir?”
“It would appear that Phase One is ready. Tell those involved I order it’s
implementation ASAP.”
“Of course, sir.”
---------------------------------
Poonamallee, India
Tuesday 19 May 2021, 11:37 AM (Indian Time)
Sanjog lived in a tall apartment building that overlooked Chembarambakkam Lake.
Given that the whole area was urbanized, though, it wasn't much of a view.
The first thing Claude had noticed when he had come to the apartment, about a day
ago, was the small shrine in what passed for the living room. Claude had assumed it
was of a religious nature, but as Claude came in to inspect it now he noticed that the
centerpiece was a picture of a young man and woman in a traditional Indian wedding.
The man was Sanjog, but he'd never seen the woman before.
"That's my wife, Madhulekha. She was murdered two years ago."
Sanjog had startled him--he had been in another room--and Claude jumped a little. "I'm
sorry. What happened?"
Sanjog stared at the floor, "There ARE anti-SG militants in this country. We were an
'unnatural marriage' so said her own father--even though he had arranged it in the first
place. She was killed by her own family."
"What happened to them?"
"Still awaiting trial. Our justice system is notoriously slow," he looked up, "I'm packed
now."
"Ah good!" Claude said, eager to change the subject, "Nirand should be here any
minute now. He called last night and said he got the tickets. We'll be going to meet this
Amita first, and then we'll be going to America. He also said that something odd has
been happening to the people on his List."
"Odd how?"
Claude scratched his head, "Well, five of them have got some sort of bloody rash on
their backs. And if it's what I think it is..."
Claude fell silent and seemed to stare off into space. Sanjog walked closer to him,
"What?"
"Well, about thirty years ago I worked for an organization."
"What organization?"
"The 'Linderman Group Special Projects Division,' though those of us who worked their
just called it 'The Company'--or OWI, which was a joke on the fact that--never mind,
that's not important. The Company would kidnap any SG's it found and study them
overnight. They got implants," Claude pulled back his collar, revealing a terrible scar,
"a microchip in my case, though just a bit Before it became some sort of liquid
substance."
Sanjog noted how Claude seemed to say "Before," meaning the period prior to
November 8, 2006, without the wistful reverence others did, even Tamil speakers like
Nirand.
"And how much does it bleed?"
"What?"
"You said 'a bloody rash'..."
"Oh! No, that's just a figure of speech we Brits use."
Sanjog nodded. Claude opened his mouth to say something, but before he could,
Nirand burst into the room.
"Sanjog! Turn on a TV, quickly!"
Sanjog gestured around at his apartment, "Does it look like I can afford one?"
Nirand groaned and grabbed them both and dragged them out into the hallway.
"What happened?" Sanjog asked.
"We're going to a bar on the next block. There's a TV there."
"What HAPPENED Nirand?" Claude shouted. Nirand didn't respond, but kept running.
"If you're gonna show us the news, it's gonna be in bloody Tamil, so just tell ME and
drag SANJOG there on his own."
Nirand stopped abruptly. Sanjog and Claude kept running, though, nearly tripping in
the process.
"Very well," Nirand said, "There was just a bombing at Parliament."
"How many?"
"The Prime Minister, for one," he said, "He was just about to support a bill that would
eliminate the Passbook and modify the SG Registry Act."
Sanjog was muttering something. Claude wondered if he was praying.
"I know you're used to this in America--"
"The last four presidents have been assassinated," Claude said, "So were the last
three kings of England."
"--but this sort of violence is relatively new to us," Nirand concluded. "The entire
nation is going to be in a panic."
Claude stared at the floor for a moment, "I suppose this means we aren't gonna be able
to leave town?"
"That's all you have to say?!" Sanjog shouted.
"Well, excuse ME!" Claude spun around, "But in case you've forgotten, there's a
bloody loon who's gonna kill many more than this stupid bomb and YOU'RE the only
one who can stop him!"
Claude jabbed a finger at him, "So quite mourning for your president--"
"Prime Minister," Nirand corrected.
"--And focus on what bloody counts, got it?!" Claude took a cell phone from out of his
coat pocket, "I'll call Peter and have him beam us out of here."
“Wait,” Nirand said, “Your assumption that there will be some sort of blockade to keep
us in town is only minimally correct. We may find trouble getting you across the border
and into Andhra Pradesh State, but considering the fact that you managed to get in the
country, I doubt that it will be a problem.”
“So that’s it?”
“I’ll get the car ready,” Nirand ran down the hallway. Claude turned to Sanjog, who
gave him a hurt look.
“WHAT?!” he snapped.
“How can you be so cold?” Sanjog whispered.
“I don’t have time to NOT be,” He grabbed Sanjog’s hand and began pulling him, “Let’s
go. You’ve got yourself a bloody world to save, kid.”
End Part Four
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