letsbe_clear: ([cordy] in the sunshine)
[personal profile] letsbe_clear
Cordelia Chase was nothing if not adaptable. Even if she tended to complain while doing it.

When the Powers said she had another path to take, she didn’t think it was a literal other path. After leaving Angel in his office at Wolfram and Hart, Cordelia assumed that she was heading off to that other plane of existence, destined to be bored for the rest of her afterlife, but she was stunned to find that there were other plans in mind for her. They didn’t feel like sharing that plan either, which was even more annoying. She figured that after everything she sacrificed and lost for the ‘Grand Plan’ that she would be let in on the plan a bit, but she knew that it was there way of protecting free will. If she wanted to know what was happening, she needed to figure it out on her own and choose to be a part of it. Or, she could consider this a vacation from her life of fighting evil and just be a normal girl.

Being normal had never really been something that worked for her.

She was dumped at a roadside diner somewhere off I70, with a whole lot of confusion, and nothing but the clothes on her back and all of five cents to her name. She was lucky in the fact that the diner owner was sympathetic to her unfortunate plight and was willing to offer her a job and board until she got on her feet. Five years later, Cordelia was still at that same diner, working for a reason she couldn’t really explain. She knew that the Powers had dumped her there for a reason. Even though she wasn’t really sure of the hows and whys, she was pretty sure that it would come to her eventually. She just needed to figure out when. So she donned her apron and went to work every day. And for the most part, it was almost … nice.

It had been so long since she had a real job with steady income, that she had almost forgotten how nice it was to actually be normal. She was sure that parts of it were still overrated, but she had a real life again. She had passed the visions to Angel when she kissed him, so there were no more loud, painful signals from the Powers that Be. No more demons, no more vampires—Cordelia was just a regular girl, with a regular job, in a small little town off a normal highway. Sure there was the occasional nightmare, and the odd case of déjà vu, but for the most part, she had left her old life behind. The life she was building now may have been less exciting, but it was a life.

Still. There was that déjà vu. And when the déjà vu was connected to that customer sitting at her back corner booth, she didn’t have it in her to just leave it alone. She picked up her strongest pot of coffee, before making her way to the back to start to try and figure him out. He had already ordered his food, and since they had a slow period, now was the chance for a little small talk. She swayed her way over, and held up the pot to try and get his attention.

“Can I top you off?”
heroslayer: (the powers have called me away)
[personal profile] heroslayer
He'd started watching the Weather Channel sometime in March. It was a random decision, background noise to fill the gaps between Peter coming and going that didn't involve hearing about the special situation and what the government planned to do about it for the hundredth time, but over the course of a month, it commanded his attention. By April, he was watching almost religiously, tuning out reports on whether or not it was still snowing in the Midwest, or what it the travel forecast was like for Florida this time of year, and had focused himself on things that seemed to fit some sort of pattern.

Random fires, burning down fields during a wet season. Lighting storms where there hadn't been a blip on the radar before. Floods. Magnetic disturbances. And so on. The weathermen overlooked it as nothing more than a series of unfortunate disasters, unrelated save for maybe the effects of global warming, but the more he listen, the more two things occurred to him. One, they all seemed to center around a handful of isolated locations around the States, and two, this sounded an awful lot like the biblical apocalypse the priests at St. Michael's had talked about when he was a kid. He couldn't say he believed in anything the priests had spouted anymore, but someone apparently did -- likely someone with an ability, coming out of the woodwork, now that they were all out of the closet -- and they had his attention.

By the end of April, Sylar had whoever it was linked to one of two towns -- Lawrence, Kansas or Cleveland, Ohio -- all of the devastation, all the threads he'd tugged at pointing in that direction, and he'd left Peter a note on the table, promising he'd be back, that he was just restless and needed to get out of the city, that he didn't plan on hurting anyone while he was gone. It was true, mostly -- he was more interested in figuring out why whoever it was needed to draw so much damn attention to himself, when he, personally, had managed to stay under the radar for a good three months -- and it was all Peter needed to know. He'd probably try and stop him or come with him if he knew what was going on.

And so he'd stolen a car -- he'd made no promises about that -- and taken the Holland Tunnel out of New York and into New Jersey, heading west towards Pennsylvania, intent on making Cleveland his first stop. He only hoped he'd find something there, though judging by the tension that pooled in his stomach as he approached the city limits, he was pretty sure he would.
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