Mohinder listened to the sound of thunderous applause. It should have been gratifying, having his father’s research being proven so spectacularly. He’d found himself playing the tapes of the rescue of the Messenger over and over, simply staring.
Yet the acclaim and publicity had made following his father’s work almost impossible. Mohinder had a list, but he feared tracking the people on it down. His every move was being scrutinized.
He couldn’t justify coming to people’s doorsteps and bringing the press with him. Not everyone would welcome such an intrusion on their privacy. He could even see where it might be dangerous for them.
Mankind had a history of lashing out at what it didn’t understand.
Sighing, Mohinder stepped out on the stage, approaching the podium.
“Life changes, evolves. In the past we believed this happened with glacial slowness. We have evidence today that this is not always the case. Sometimes life takes a quantum leap forward, producing new life forms unimagined only a short time before.”
Behind him, a picture of Superman flashed on a gigantic screen.
“We call him Superman, and the name is apropos.”
**************
Clark found himself flushing and squirming in his seat. After Linderman had refused an interview, Lois had insisted on dragging him to this, the first international conference on accelerated evolution.
As a scientific conference, it should have been terribly dull, but Clark recognized several colleagues from the media that he’d met throughout the years. Superman had turned the science sexy, and the reporters were waiting for those few sound bites that the public might understand.
The first few speakers were dry and pedantic, and Clark found himself drifting off to sleep. He was nudged once by Lois, and he realized that he must have been about to snore.
Then Mohinder Surresh entered the room and the atmosphere changed.
He was a powerful speaker, and for the next forty five minutes he spoke about his father’s work.
That he used Superman constantly as a reference made Clark feel deeply embarrassed. That he spoke at length about the possible threat Superman might be made him uncomfortable.
He felt relieved when the conference broke for lunch.
He rose quickly and headed for the door. Lois was behind him, but he didn’t worry. He could hear her following behind.
A moment later, her footsteps began to retreat, and he stopped and turned just in time to see her accost Professor Surresh.
Grimacing, Clark followed.
“I don’t give interviews,” Surresh was saying. “You can speak to my agent and he’ll give you my biographical information.”
“You were wrong about Superman,” Lois said.
“What?”
“I’ve met Superman. He’s not dangerous.”
“What we’ve seen of him has been good,” Professor Surresh said, nodding. “But he’s only human. Humans are flawed, and they make mistakes.”
“What makes you so sure he’s even human?” Lois asked.
“Occam’s razor. What else would he be?” The professor shook his head. “With the sort of power that man has, the smallest mistake could kill someone.”
“Maybe he’s had a lifetime to learn to control it,” Clark said. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he felt the sudden need to defend himself. “I haven’t noticed him killing or hurting anyone so far, and he’s had plenty of contact with ordinary people.”
The professor stopped. “You’ve both met him more than once?”
Clark nodded, only then noticing Lois staring at him suspiciously. He looked at her a moment then shrugged.
“I’ve been attempting to seek out individuals with special abilities, trying to seek out the genetic markers that make them different. Perhaps you would speak to Superman and ask that he come to see me.”
“He’s bulletproof,” Clark interjected. “I don’t think you could get a blood sample.”
“A simple cheek swab would more than suffice.”
“So what do you know about an artist who can predict the future named Isaac Mendez?” Lois asked.
There was a look of recognition in the man’s eyes, and Lois attempted to press the question.
“It’s my belief hat these people have the same right to privacy as any other person.”
“You want to invade Superman’s privacy.” Clark said quietly.
“He’s a public figure, and I would be happy to meet with him in private.”
“I’ll ask him.” Lois and Clark both spoke at the same time, and then glanced suspiciously at each other.
“Now if you will excuse me,” Professor Suresh glanced off into the distance, “I have another appointment.”
He stepped away hurriedly and was quickly gone.
**************
For once, Lois wasn’t single-mindedly devoted to her work. She was instead devoted to her slot machine.
Clark stood behind her and sighed. She’d been at it for an hour and he hadn’t been able to pull her away from the machine for anything.
“Just one more minute,” Lois said impatiently.
At that moment, Clark heard a familiar voice protesting in Japanese.
He lowered his glasses and turned slightly to his right. A familiar Japanese man was struggling with two security guards. He was protesting that he needed to see Linderman.
Clark glanced back at Lois. If he went for it without her, she’d be angry. However, there was no way he’d be able to describe how he knew Hiro Nakamura was three rooms away.
“I’m going to the restroom,” He said.
She made a vague gesture, her eyes still glued to the slot machine.
Clark’s eyes widened as he overheard another voice speaking to Hiro Nakamura.
Where had Nathan Petrelli met the younger man, and why was he agreeing to get him in to see Linderman.
Clark moved as quickly as he could without being obtrusive, but by the time he was able to wind his way through the labyrinth of slot machines and blackjack tables it was too late.
They were both gone.
A moment later he stiffened as he heard the sounds of gunshots from one of the rooms above him.
He headed for the elevators as quickly as he could.
*************
Jessica stared down at the two federal agents lying on the floor, blood already pooling around their bodies. Her gun had been muffled, and according to Linderman, no one was in the rooms nearby. It would be quite some time before this was discovered.
She holstered her weapon and carefully closed the door, being careful to wipe off any residual prints.
Linderman had already arranged for an equipment malfunction on the cameras in the hallway, but in case he’d decided to double cross her, Jessica pulled a cap onto her head and pulled it down.
She was leaving the hotel room, carefully wiping the door handle to obscure any prints when the elevator door opened.
A man in a business suit stood in the elevator.
Something in his expression alerted her that something was wrong.
She carefully closed the door behind her, and then headed for the end of the hall.
He was following her.
***************
The men inside the room were dead. Clark could hear no signs of heartbeats or breathing from either of them, and a quick glance showed that the bullet wounds would have been immediately fatal.
The woman had the smell of gunpowder and another glance showed that she had a gun on her.
He’d have to be careful not to reveal what he was. Nothing like getting shot in the face and surviving to help lose your secret identity.
The woman didn’t look back at him, and she turned the corner up ahead.
A wide picture window showed the glittering pearls that were the lights of Vegas by night.
He hurried up to follow her.
That’s when he was surprised by the arms which grabbed him and shoved him with superhuman strength out the window.
If he’d been braced for it, he never would have budged. As it was, he felt glass shattering all around him as he was shoved out into the Las Vegas sky.
He fell, astonished for a moment.
It was only when he glanced up and saw Lois’s horrified face staring out a picture window that he realized just how huge a mistake he had made.
