YEARS GONE
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter VII: Trouble In India
Kavali, Andhra Pradesh, India
Tuesday, May 18, 2021
Nirand hung up the payphone with a sigh and walked over to Claude and Sanjog, “I just
called the University to feed them some lines about this ‘trip.’ The Dean said someone
broke into my office.”
“What for?” Sanjog asked.
“I can only assume the List,” Nirand gestured at his car, “I may have to return to
Chennai.”
““What about Amita?” Claude asked.
Nirand opened the door, “I’ll take you to the train station. You’ll have to rail to
Calcutta.”
“S’alright,” Claude said, “Can we at least eat first? I’m bloody starved.”
“Of course.” Nirand locked his car, “I’m sure we’’ll be able to find something.”
A few moments later, Claude spun around.
“What is it?” Nirand asked.
“I’m--I’m not sure,” he shook his head, “S’probably nothing.”
A few moments later he did it again.
Nirand stopped. Sanjog kept walking, as if oblivious. “Are you sure you are okay, Mr.
Rains?”
He was scanning the crowds around them, “What the bloody hell…” He gasped. He
pulled Nirand towards him and they went invisible. Seconds later, a gunshot shattered
the shop window behind them.
Nirand swore in Tamil as Claude snatched Sanjog as well. Claude began running with
them, ““Who the hell would shoot you, Nirand?!”
“Presumably whomever burgled my office,” he gasped. Claude tucked down an alley
with them.
“And who the bloody hell would that be?!”
Nirand leaned against the wall, “There’s a genetics company called Bharatgene. They
would want the List, but I do not see why they would shoot at me.”
“I do,” Sanjog whispered.
“Well?” Claude snapped after he was silent a moment, “For God’’s sake, spit it out!”
Sanjog glared at him, “They have an ‘interest’ in SG’s. Rumors were that they were
performing experiments. Parliament was going to investigate--”
Nirand cursed again, “So those conspiracy theorist lunatics are RIGHT!”
Claude shrugged, “Those sods seem to be more spot on these days.” He glanced
down the street, “Damn. We need guns. You don’t suppose there’s a gun shop
anywhere?”
Nirand shook his head, “Those are hard to come by ANYWHERE in India, Mr. Rains.””
“Really? Then what was that bloody riot back in March in Kashmir? That made the news
even in places without televisions!”
“You asked about gun stores, Mr. Rains, not the black market. And I do not know how
to get one.”
“I do,” Sanjog said, “I spent my life on the streets.”
“Well, we might need that.” Claude looked over their heads, “Where the bloody hell
are they, anyway?”
As if on cue, a man holding a pistol peeked around the corner. He reached into his
coat. Simultaneously, Claude opened a door in one of the buildings and threw Nirand
and Sanjog in to the place. Next, the man leveled his gun and opened fire. Claude, still
invisible, ducked and ran into the building, pulling the door closed with his foot.
They were at the end of a hallway. The walls were painted tan. A rail ran along the wall
opposite the door at waist height. It reminded Claude somewhat of a building at an
office park.
He grabbed Nirand and Sanjog, making them invisible again.
“Quickly!” he shouted. A few feet down the hall turned left in an L-intersection. After a
few more turns, Nirand leaned against another wall, breathing heavily.
“How much longer?”
“Oh, shut it!” Claude snapped, “There’s a reason they bloody call it RUNNING for your
life!”
Claude dragged them down a few more hallways. Sanjog noted on the lack of doors.
Suddenly, the man stepped out of a hallway to the right. He spun his infrared goggles
at them and leveled his gun. Claude and Nirand turned to run.
Sanjog stayed put.
Sanjog became visible, leveled his arm at the man, his palm up as if gesturing for him
to stop. He waved his palm over the man. The man swayed back and forth slowly. The
gun and goggles slipped out of his hands. He fell after them a few seconds later. When
he hit the ground, he started snoring.
“Bloody hell, kid!” Claude ran over to him, “When were you planning to tell me you
could do that?!”
Sanjog let out a gasp of breath, as if he had been holding it the whole time, “I wasn’t
even sure I could.”
Claude was speechless for a moment, “Well, let’s keep going anyway.””
As they ran down the hallway, Nirand swore again, “Aren’t there any doors in this
place?!”
Claude tapped on a wall, “Apparently not, mate.”
Suddenly, another man came running down the corridor towards them. Sanjog stood
out in front and prepared himself to put the man down. The man stopped and rolled up
his right sleeve, revealing five Japanese characters tattooed on his arm.
“What the bloody hell?” Claude gasped, fingering the same spot on his arm where he
had the same tattoo, “Who are you?”
“We’ve met before. I am Lance Daffadar Prakasam. I was the border guard who
inspected you.” He spoke calmly and in perfect, unaccented English.
******************************
Prakasam had ushered them into a van. Claude was still a little suspicious of the man,
but he did know everything about the Fellowship. Besides, Claude WAS a rather
paranoid person.
Prakasam handed a file folder to Claude, who was sitting next to him in the passenger
seat.
“Your suspicion that Bharatgene is a criminal organization is correct. They have an
interest in what they call ‘control’ of this nation’s SG population. This includes,
amongst other things, experimentation to halt manifestations; to control the
manifestations of the unmanifested, and the creation of individuals with multiple
abilities.”
“These… ‘experiments’ are fatal, aren’t they?” Sanjog asked.
Prakasam nodded, “Usually. The experiments to turn ‘off’ abilities always have been.”
“So THAT’S why Mira was so intent on getting my List! They must need more subjects!”
He swore loudly in Tamil, punching the door.
“At least I sent a copy of the List to HQ,” Claude said.
Prakasam nodded, “We’ve sent operatives to retrieve everyone on the List. All 248 of
them.”
“There were 256 on my List.”
“Yes, were.”
They drove on in silence. Prakasam was taking them east towards Hyderabad. Claude
glanced through the bronze-colored folder Prakasam had given him. It was largely
surveillance of Dr. Shenoy and largely in Hindi. There was a short, bilingual dossier of
Molly Walker included as a reference, indicating that she had been employed in
tracking Dr. Shenoy. He could then recognize the Hindi form of her name, Maalii Waaka,
interspersed throughout the rest of the file.
“You were on the way to see Miss Rasihamatijan, correct?” Prakasam asked, breaking
the silence. “She will be at our next stop. She says she was nearly kidnapped by
unknown operatives, but her ability helped her escape.””
“Her mind control.” Claude noted.
“Not exactly,” Nirand said, “Her ability is more like belief modification. She can change
what a person desires, and I suppose she made her kidnapper or kidnappers not want
to take her.”
“Lucky her,” Claude muttered.
Nirand poked Prakasam, “Did you retrieve any of my files?”
Prakasam nodded, “There were a number of folders I retrieved from your desk. They
are in the back.”
Nirand turned and began rooting through the junk in the cargo area, “Mr. Rains, I have
it filed under ‘convikinesis’ somewhere. There are…ah, here!” He sat back in his seat
and handed a red folder to Claude.
There were a number of brain scans. There was also a letter. Claude didn’t have to be
literate in Hindi to know the handwriting in the first was unsteady.
“That letter was written by a man with acute psychosis. There was a second letter by
the same person after Amita met him. His brain scans should be in there, somewhere.”
“And Amita cured his ‘psychosis?’” Claude asked.
“You sound skeptical.”
Claude nodded, “Rather silly of me, really, given all the bloody crap I’ve seen in the
last thirty-odd years.”
He handed the folder back. Nirand handed it to Sanjog, who began flipping through it.
“Lance Daffadar,” Nirand asked, “What precisely was stolen?””
“From your office?” Prakasam sighed, “Frankly, I have no idea. Mr. Petrelli ordered that
anything left in your office be cleaned out and shipped to our headquarters in
Hyderabad. I took a few folders with me,” and he gestured towards the back seats, “But
as for the rest…I’’m afraid you will have to ascertain that for yourself, Professor
Chandrasekhar.”
******************************
Nothing much else happened until they reached Hyderabad. They continued to drive
around for forty-five minutes when they entered the city, apparently aimlessly. Claude
supposed Prakasam was trying to avoid pursuers. They eventually came to a parking
garage that Claude was CERTAIN they had passed at least thrice before. They went in
circles in that, too, before pulling to a stop.
Two people were waiting for them. One was a middle-aged man in a brown suit. The
other was a young woman in rather traditional dress. When they got out of the van she
ran up to Sanjog and hugged him.
“Oh! The little dream guy! It is so good to finally meet you in the realm of the living!”
“Likewise, Amita. Likewise.” He smiled.
She walked over to Nirand and shook his hand, “And it is good to see you too,
professor.”
They exchanged pleasantries for a moment. Claude noted that the man was just
standing there. Claude supposed he was some sort of bodyguard.
Amita walked over to Claude and shook his hand, “You must be Claude Rains.”
“Yes. And you’re Amita Rasi--Rasi…Amita?”
She laughed, “Rasihamatijan, yes. I understand that you think I’m important.”
“Very important, yes. We need to talk. We all need to talk.”
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter VII: Trouble In India
Kavali, Andhra Pradesh, India
Tuesday, May 18, 2021
Nirand hung up the payphone with a sigh and walked over to Claude and Sanjog, “I just
called the University to feed them some lines about this ‘trip.’ The Dean said someone
broke into my office.”
“What for?” Sanjog asked.
“I can only assume the List,” Nirand gestured at his car, “I may have to return to
Chennai.”
““What about Amita?” Claude asked.
Nirand opened the door, “I’ll take you to the train station. You’ll have to rail to
Calcutta.”
“S’alright,” Claude said, “Can we at least eat first? I’m bloody starved.”
“Of course.” Nirand locked his car, “I’m sure we’’ll be able to find something.”
A few moments later, Claude spun around.
“What is it?” Nirand asked.
“I’m--I’m not sure,” he shook his head, “S’probably nothing.”
A few moments later he did it again.
Nirand stopped. Sanjog kept walking, as if oblivious. “Are you sure you are okay, Mr.
Rains?”
He was scanning the crowds around them, “What the bloody hell…” He gasped. He
pulled Nirand towards him and they went invisible. Seconds later, a gunshot shattered
the shop window behind them.
Nirand swore in Tamil as Claude snatched Sanjog as well. Claude began running with
them, ““Who the hell would shoot you, Nirand?!”
“Presumably whomever burgled my office,” he gasped. Claude tucked down an alley
with them.
“And who the bloody hell would that be?!”
Nirand leaned against the wall, “There’s a genetics company called Bharatgene. They
would want the List, but I do not see why they would shoot at me.”
“I do,” Sanjog whispered.
“Well?” Claude snapped after he was silent a moment, “For God’’s sake, spit it out!”
Sanjog glared at him, “They have an ‘interest’ in SG’s. Rumors were that they were
performing experiments. Parliament was going to investigate--”
Nirand cursed again, “So those conspiracy theorist lunatics are RIGHT!”
Claude shrugged, “Those sods seem to be more spot on these days.” He glanced
down the street, “Damn. We need guns. You don’t suppose there’s a gun shop
anywhere?”
Nirand shook his head, “Those are hard to come by ANYWHERE in India, Mr. Rains.””
“Really? Then what was that bloody riot back in March in Kashmir? That made the news
even in places without televisions!”
“You asked about gun stores, Mr. Rains, not the black market. And I do not know how
to get one.”
“I do,” Sanjog said, “I spent my life on the streets.”
“Well, we might need that.” Claude looked over their heads, “Where the bloody hell
are they, anyway?”
As if on cue, a man holding a pistol peeked around the corner. He reached into his
coat. Simultaneously, Claude opened a door in one of the buildings and threw Nirand
and Sanjog in to the place. Next, the man leveled his gun and opened fire. Claude, still
invisible, ducked and ran into the building, pulling the door closed with his foot.
They were at the end of a hallway. The walls were painted tan. A rail ran along the wall
opposite the door at waist height. It reminded Claude somewhat of a building at an
office park.
He grabbed Nirand and Sanjog, making them invisible again.
“Quickly!” he shouted. A few feet down the hall turned left in an L-intersection. After a
few more turns, Nirand leaned against another wall, breathing heavily.
“How much longer?”
“Oh, shut it!” Claude snapped, “There’s a reason they bloody call it RUNNING for your
life!”
Claude dragged them down a few more hallways. Sanjog noted on the lack of doors.
Suddenly, the man stepped out of a hallway to the right. He spun his infrared goggles
at them and leveled his gun. Claude and Nirand turned to run.
Sanjog stayed put.
Sanjog became visible, leveled his arm at the man, his palm up as if gesturing for him
to stop. He waved his palm over the man. The man swayed back and forth slowly. The
gun and goggles slipped out of his hands. He fell after them a few seconds later. When
he hit the ground, he started snoring.
“Bloody hell, kid!” Claude ran over to him, “When were you planning to tell me you
could do that?!”
Sanjog let out a gasp of breath, as if he had been holding it the whole time, “I wasn’t
even sure I could.”
Claude was speechless for a moment, “Well, let’s keep going anyway.””
As they ran down the hallway, Nirand swore again, “Aren’t there any doors in this
place?!”
Claude tapped on a wall, “Apparently not, mate.”
Suddenly, another man came running down the corridor towards them. Sanjog stood
out in front and prepared himself to put the man down. The man stopped and rolled up
his right sleeve, revealing five Japanese characters tattooed on his arm.
“What the bloody hell?” Claude gasped, fingering the same spot on his arm where he
had the same tattoo, “Who are you?”
“We’ve met before. I am Lance Daffadar Prakasam. I was the border guard who
inspected you.” He spoke calmly and in perfect, unaccented English.
******************************
Prakasam had ushered them into a van. Claude was still a little suspicious of the man,
but he did know everything about the Fellowship. Besides, Claude WAS a rather
paranoid person.
Prakasam handed a file folder to Claude, who was sitting next to him in the passenger
seat.
“Your suspicion that Bharatgene is a criminal organization is correct. They have an
interest in what they call ‘control’ of this nation’s SG population. This includes,
amongst other things, experimentation to halt manifestations; to control the
manifestations of the unmanifested, and the creation of individuals with multiple
abilities.”
“These… ‘experiments’ are fatal, aren’t they?” Sanjog asked.
Prakasam nodded, “Usually. The experiments to turn ‘off’ abilities always have been.”
“So THAT’S why Mira was so intent on getting my List! They must need more subjects!”
He swore loudly in Tamil, punching the door.
“At least I sent a copy of the List to HQ,” Claude said.
Prakasam nodded, “We’ve sent operatives to retrieve everyone on the List. All 248 of
them.”
“There were 256 on my List.”
“Yes, were.”
They drove on in silence. Prakasam was taking them east towards Hyderabad. Claude
glanced through the bronze-colored folder Prakasam had given him. It was largely
surveillance of Dr. Shenoy and largely in Hindi. There was a short, bilingual dossier of
Molly Walker included as a reference, indicating that she had been employed in
tracking Dr. Shenoy. He could then recognize the Hindi form of her name, Maalii Waaka,
interspersed throughout the rest of the file.
“You were on the way to see Miss Rasihamatijan, correct?” Prakasam asked, breaking
the silence. “She will be at our next stop. She says she was nearly kidnapped by
unknown operatives, but her ability helped her escape.””
“Her mind control.” Claude noted.
“Not exactly,” Nirand said, “Her ability is more like belief modification. She can change
what a person desires, and I suppose she made her kidnapper or kidnappers not want
to take her.”
“Lucky her,” Claude muttered.
Nirand poked Prakasam, “Did you retrieve any of my files?”
Prakasam nodded, “There were a number of folders I retrieved from your desk. They
are in the back.”
Nirand turned and began rooting through the junk in the cargo area, “Mr. Rains, I have
it filed under ‘convikinesis’ somewhere. There are…ah, here!” He sat back in his seat
and handed a red folder to Claude.
There were a number of brain scans. There was also a letter. Claude didn’t have to be
literate in Hindi to know the handwriting in the first was unsteady.
“That letter was written by a man with acute psychosis. There was a second letter by
the same person after Amita met him. His brain scans should be in there, somewhere.”
“And Amita cured his ‘psychosis?’” Claude asked.
“You sound skeptical.”
Claude nodded, “Rather silly of me, really, given all the bloody crap I’ve seen in the
last thirty-odd years.”
He handed the folder back. Nirand handed it to Sanjog, who began flipping through it.
“Lance Daffadar,” Nirand asked, “What precisely was stolen?””
“From your office?” Prakasam sighed, “Frankly, I have no idea. Mr. Petrelli ordered that
anything left in your office be cleaned out and shipped to our headquarters in
Hyderabad. I took a few folders with me,” and he gestured towards the back seats, “But
as for the rest…I’’m afraid you will have to ascertain that for yourself, Professor
Chandrasekhar.”
******************************
Nothing much else happened until they reached Hyderabad. They continued to drive
around for forty-five minutes when they entered the city, apparently aimlessly. Claude
supposed Prakasam was trying to avoid pursuers. They eventually came to a parking
garage that Claude was CERTAIN they had passed at least thrice before. They went in
circles in that, too, before pulling to a stop.
Two people were waiting for them. One was a middle-aged man in a brown suit. The
other was a young woman in rather traditional dress. When they got out of the van she
ran up to Sanjog and hugged him.
“Oh! The little dream guy! It is so good to finally meet you in the realm of the living!”
“Likewise, Amita. Likewise.” He smiled.
She walked over to Nirand and shook his hand, “And it is good to see you too,
professor.”
They exchanged pleasantries for a moment. Claude noted that the man was just
standing there. Claude supposed he was some sort of bodyguard.
Amita walked over to Claude and shook his hand, “You must be Claude Rains.”
“Yes. And you’re Amita Rasi--Rasi…Amita?”
She laughed, “Rasihamatijan, yes. I understand that you think I’m important.”
“Very important, yes. We need to talk. We all need to talk.”
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