As always, these characters are not mine, and I make no money from this.

Peter Petrelli was staring at the large metal shackles on his wrist again. He knew that he could break them, tear them off and leave whatever horrific place this was that the masked man had brought him to at least two weeks ago. He could but she couldn't.

Claire.

Just after being beaten for the first time, and the blood dried and the bruises turned to shadows then skin, the other man had sat down across the table from Peter dead eyed. "I want you to know that I know you can escape any time Mr. Petrelli. In fact your lack of effort thus far can only be seen as a disappointment. But oh well, they said you weren't much of a typical fighter yet."

Peter didn't know what to say, so he just stared at the man deeply while he popped his shoulder back into place.

"But all the same, I think some precautions are necessary." He roughly reached across the table and began to put an IV into Peter's hand. "The first precaution is this IV, it will make you, let's say, a little more docile for us. A normal person would only need a daily injection, but you, you aren't normal. No," the man said, tapping the table between them on every syllable, "you are not. But really, that's how you're here."

"Oh really? Why's that?"

The man in an honor movie at this point would have grinned and explained his diabolical plot. But the man sitting across from Peter simply shrugged and with no facial expression said, "I'm curious about how things work."

Peter could feel the hope in his heart begin to unravel into shreds. "What other precautions are you taking?"

The man smiled, and his front teeth were so big and white they might even be termed buck. "You're niece, she's very beautiful."

"No."

"I think she knows it too. It's so hard for girls to be confident in their bodies at her age, but I just get a feeling she is. That's important to her development as a young woman."

Peter wanted to rage over the table at the man, but whatever was in the IV made his blood turn into cement. "What have you done?"

"Nothing so far. But read my mind. You can do that right?" Peter nodded. "Read it so you know I'm not lying. I have constructed a plan to kill Claire. If you try to leave us before I am ready for you to leave, then, well, I will implement my plan. Understood?" Peter nodded again. He had been inside the man's dark mind. He wasn't lying. "Excellent." The man got up and left.

Peter chose to not think about the experiments, the interviews, the isolation, of the last two weeks. Instead he stared at the shackle on one wrist and ignored the IV on his other hand. He'd also stopped thinking about rescue or escape and wondered how he could end looking on the bright side so fast. Maybe sleep would help. He lay his head down again on the cold linoleum floor and closed his eyes. And just as he fell asleep, as exhaustion stole away the overhead lights, he heard a distinct female voice in his head.

"Hold on Peter, we're coming."

To Be Continued…