[b]The Tape..[/b]

The atmosphere downtown was pretty dense. Every street, every corner, every goddamn hole was covered by protesters, especially the streets leading to the Walt Disney Concert Hall. Alec was compelled to ditch his vehicle and a walk a few blocks. He wasn’t worried about it being stolen, as any attempt to break a bulletproof glass such as that of a Sandcat is futile and may result in a broken hand. What bugged him was the fact that in times of crisis such as these, people were on the lookout for slightly strange faces. If anyone from the crowd somehow connected Alec to metahumans through his noticeably odd eyes, he’d probably end up lynched or worse.

Miller took cover in an alley as an incoming crowd of protester marched through, his briefcase positioned a few inches to his right. He scanned the passer-bys with his penetrative vision. The splitting headache reminded him that it was quite a while since he last used it. Fortunately for him, the last person on the marching crowd had a pair of sunglasses in his jeans’ back pocket, indistinguishable by his large shirt which almost reached to his knees. Kids these days.

He lunged at the unsuspecting young man and grabbed him by his neck, violently throwing him at the dark alley. His cries for help were overwhelmed by the passing crowd’s unison rambling. A light bump in the head was all it took for Alec to render the poor man unconscious. He rolled him over, took his sunglasses and threw him a 100 dollar bill as an apology for the inconvenience. On his way off the crime scene, he grabbed his precious briefcase.

Next stop; LA’s local news station.

One way or another, Alec was determined to bring the TV man down, not because it would benefit his government but because it would benefit him and the rest of the metahumans. His only lead was the broadcast video, but he needed to get a closer look at it. That’s why he decided to raid the local news station. 

The ‘local’ in news station wasn’t exaggerated at all. They were really local, as in a low-security medium-sized building kind of local. Alec’s black briefcase, his scars, his sunglasses obviously raised suspicion on the two guards who were guarding the front door. He did fit the Hollywood profile of a terrorist. One of the guards requested he tosses the briefcase on the ground while the other began to do a body search. As soon as the first guard kneeled down to inspect the briefcase, Miller swiftly moved his feet toward his face, sending two of the guard’s teeth flying in a stream of blood. His partner tried to react, but the decorated war hero was faster. An elbow to the back of his head and he fell down like a heavy sack of potatoes.

Soon as he went through the front door, Miller reached his gun out of it’s holster and fired two shots in the air. It was enough to make the people inside the site run in fear, including the receptionist. Normally, he’d have to worry about attracting the cops, but today it wasn’t much of a problem as the protests would surely slow down their response. All he had to do was find the Master Control Room and do a closer inspection of the tape.

After opening every door and running on every remaining employee (who remained on the station either because they didn’t understand what was going on or because the shit they just took was gravitating them to the ground), Alec finally found the Master Control Room. He closed the door and used everything ranging from chairs to stereos to block it. A quick search on the archive cabinet was more than enough for Alec to find the broadcast tape. He held it with his hands for a second before finally displaying it on a small screen in front. 

Approximately five minutes had passed, and Alec was still messing with the controls. He kept rewinding a specific part of the tape, the one where Nightingale and Elijah were shown to make a truce. He was into something, but he just didn’t know what it was yet. It was about time he activated Cerebro; rational mode. Rational mode could detect small, trivial things that were always there. That small, trivial thing in this case came in the form of a figure, quite possibly a child, hiding on the background. It was impossible to make out who he/she was, but he was willing to bet he was either associated with one of the metahumans shown in the tape, or he was working under the TV man’s orders. He was hoping it was the former, since tracking the metahuman couple was easier, especially if one of them was a government registered superhero.