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"Jack--" Not 'Captain.' Mohinder drops the pleasantries when he's afraid and Jack doesn't need to hear his voice or see the bio monitor to know it. He just knows Mohinder, like he knows all of them. And it's starting to get to both of his men inside the park. Still, he needs them there. They're the only two that even remotely fit the stereotype of the people the theme park draws to it.

And Jack doesn't trust himself to go there. It has nothing to do with heroics and more to do with the fear that his own energy levels will interfere with the park's. They can't risk it getting stronger. It's bad enough all ready. "I heard him."

"We need to go."

"Not yet," Jack demands. "Go deeper. I need visuals of everything."

Mohinder grasps at Peter's arms as the Ferris Wheel's lights flicker off. His throat is dry and he's shaking slightly. "I didn't it, Peter. But I.. Let's just get this over with."

Peter tapped his earpiece and hissed slightly. After taht? Yeah, he wasn't overly happy any more. A man without a face. How was that even a thing? "Jack, I'm not a lab rat. If I die here, I will haunt your ass. Whichever way I can. Physically, mentally, whatever."

He turned it back off and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get himself a bit of confidence back.

Turning to Mohinder, he offered a slightly shaky smile. So what if they were pretty much here to bait this place into being weird? At least they were getting out, he supposed. "Lets just avoid rides from now on? I was following something before that whole event, maybe we should keep going. Head forward."

He kept moving, just because he knew he had to. Whatever that big horrible thing with the balloons was, it was trying to lead him around. And he may as well follow.

Maybe he could leave afterwards.

"I don't think he's using as us lab rats exactly," Mohinder says as he jogs after Peter. "But I do think that you really must slow down, Peter, or we'll get ourselves in trouble again!" Something catches the very edge of Mohinder's periphery and he stops, glancing to the left for his whole head turns that way. "Did you see that?"

"No, what do you think you saw?" an American voice asks in his ear and Mohinder's blood runs cold. It's not Jack doing it, it's the music he thinks he hears, coming from the fun house.

"I... A little girl. In a gas mask. But that's not right. No one's there."

"I'm not good at slow," Peter pointed out, hands in his coat pockets as he looked around with a slight nervous edge. When Mohinder asked if he'd seen whatever he was seeing, he nearly had a heart attack. Not again! He didn't like scary, scary wasn't fun. He missed drug deals, serial killers and the occasional moron who forgot to pay off a fine. Haunted carnivals weren't fun.

He couldn't hear the music, not yet, but he looked around in panic just to make sure no other rides were turning on.

As if on cue, the music from the fun house got brighter and the lights started to flash enticingly. Clearly, someone wanted them to play. And he didn't really want to. "I didn't see a little girl. Where was she?"

If there were kids in here, they had to get them out.

"Right--" He can't see her now, nor does any of the fallen banners look like they've been disturbed at all by someone passing. To be honest, this isn't the strangest thing Mohinder's encountered in his life. He's seen all sorts of crazy things, crazier still since Jack came into his life. He'd been promised a lab, research material--

He'd not really expected to be a field agent, but from what Ianto's told him, you can't just have a cushy office job at Torchwood. And you have to accept that your life is constantly, always, in constant danger.

Knowing that and being face with that, however, are two very different things.

"This way. Over by the fun house," Mohinder murmurs, feeling just a little dazed, and starts off towards the music.

"We're going into the funhouse? Woah, what could go wrong with that?" Peter remarked sarcastically as he headed towards, part of him wishing he could just ignore these orders and leave. But, like he always told himself, he agreed to this. He wanted this. Well, okay, perhaps want was a strong word. He'd been interested and bored.

Now he couldn't really complain about that any more!

As they came closer to the entrance, Peter took the lead, mostly because he was the faster runner so Mohinder could probably use the headstart. They'd learn that one in the sewer tunnels when he accidentally left the man behind. Lesson learned, never leave a man behind.

Or accidentally flee for your life too fast. As stepped over the banner, moving into the uncomfortably colourful tunnel. "Can't see any little girls."

Mohinder's not slow, but he's also not an athlete. A little swimming at university and some football when he'd been a child does not make up for the sedentary life of a researcher, a professor, and a scientist. Mohinder also never really knows when to run. He waits too late or he goes too quickly, before he can even identify the danger. It's not exactly Peter's fault, then, that he leaves Mohinder behind.

Sometimes the Indian is just too busy staring at something 'interesting' or 'important' when the fight or flight response ought to kick in.

Much taller than he is, Mohinder has to hurry to keep up with Peter. He'd rather not find themselves separated again. What might have happened if Mohinder hadn't called Peter back from the Ferris wheel?

He ends up taking hold of Peter's elbow for a moment as they come to a stop in the 'lobby' of the fun house. There's an old stand by the door where the operator use to control the ride and take tickets. It's half pushed over. The wires are exposed. This shouldn't be working.

"She might be further in," Jack says through the earpiece.

"Really? Do you fancy coming down here and going in to have a look, Jack? Maybe going as far into the deep dark monster tunnel for us?" Peter snarked, unable to help himself. He loved Jack, he really did. Great bloke, fantastic singing voice and wonderful in bed. But he still found him grating in moments like this when tensions were high and more was being asked of them. Peter never did do overly well with just doing what he was told.

Came from being a DI, he supposed, and setting all his own rules. He didn't usually follow orders, he gave them to his unfortunate underlings. He wasn't a natural leader, just a lazy man who didn't like leg work.

And now that was all his job seemed to be.

As they moved past the ticket taker, he carefully avoided any loose hanging wires and slipped into what seemed to be a very long dark tunnel. Great. Just great. As he moved into the darkness, moving slow so Mohinder could keep up, he watched the darkness carefully.

Till he saw something move. "Shit, we're not alone."

"I still can't see anything from Carlisle's contacts," Jack says, after having ignored the Scot's snarky comments about helping out. Jack would be there in a heartbeat if he could. He's much better facing danger, but the thought of helping whatever haunting this place to grow worse is enough to cause him to slip back into the stance of General.

You watch the battle from the hill. You direct. You try not to care too much about the individual troops. Cruel, yes. Jack hates it too.

"I don't see anything, Captain," Mohinder says. Well, whispers. The poor man is starting to shake. These things happen. He gives Peter a small nudge and hands over his torch. "I.. I suppose we ought to follow it."

"Well, not like we have any other choice," Peter said as he moved ahead as bravely as he could. He didn't exactly laugh in the face of danger, he usually cried out and ran for it. But he could tell Mohinder was scared and hell, what sort of man would he be if he didn't try to be the one who stuck this out? Maybe if he kept his cool, it'd reassure his partner.

Used to work when he teamed up with Sammy... but then Sammy was mental so maybe that wasn't the best example.

Laughter echoes through the tunnels and a strange music started as they ended up in what seemed to be a hall of mirrors, their own reflections greeting them. Only distorted. Okay, that was not going to end well, Peter already knew that. So he made a move to keep walking forward and not look at his reflection.

"I always always hated the hall of mirrors."

That very small show of backbone is all Mohinder had needed. He smiles at Peter's back, momentarily, and then follows after him. They are close enough to touch, or if Peter needs to, pull a Scooby Do and jump into his Mohinder's arms.

It's bad enough knowing that you're being funneled into a track. There's little room for deviation and if they suddenly need to leave, there's really no way to. Oh, there are emergency exit signs everywhere but Mohinder already knows that the doors will be locked. That's just the way that these things tend to go!

"Why?" he asks, keeping his voice low, as Peter expresses his dismay at the reflections. He'd not found Peter unattractive at all, though he didn't bare for the beard he sometimes sprouted when he thought it might be fun to be lazy with a razor. "Do you not like to look at yourself, or is it the maze?"

Jack's voice pipes up in his ear: "See, this is why I couldn't send Owen. He'd be too busy preening."

"It's unnatural, isn't it? To look at yourself. I'm not a bad looking bloke, just don't like it. It's creepy. I'm always waiting for my mirror self to move on it's own or something," Peter complained, pulling a face at the very idea. He didn't have many confidence issues, he was just not comfortable with the idea of mirrors. They weirded him out. Hence why he was happy to sometime skip shaving.

He rolled his eyes when Owen rose to the bait over the ear-piece, never able to let the little insults slide. "Couldn't send you in either, Harkness. You'd spend all your time trying to seduce your reflection."

"Children, please. Me and Mohinder are about to be killed by a spooky monster. A little quiet and respect here?" Ah, doesn't Peter paint an optimistic picture of their future? Thank God he wasn't the one that had to give the team speeches. Or things might not always be as inspirational.

Peter turned his head, making sure his reflection was copying him. He didn't need it coming to life!

Edited 2013-11-02 18:42 (UTC)

Personally, Mohinder welcomes the offscreen chatter. Owen and Jack go at it quite a lot and if Peter's to be believed (he isn't, Mohinder things), Jack's shagging just about the whole of Torchwood. He knows about Ianto (because who doesn't), but he doesn't believe Jack is sleeping with anyone else! Even if he's come onto Mohinder a few times... Mohinder just doesn't find him attractive. Not quite like that. And he's sworn off of Americans anyhow. And men, come to think of it. And women too.

Actually, he's just done. He has Molly to look out for. And, usually, Peter too. Honestly, Mohinder thought that if he didn't have Peter come around for meals on occasion, he'd never eat!

Or he'd make up more sordid stories about how Jack's invited him to bed a few times. No. Mohinder won't think of it.

It just doesn't help that Jack is telling Owen that he wouldn't have to seduce his reflection, he'd just go for it because he knows he's amazing in bed.

"We aren't going to die. Come along."

He's chuckling to himself and moving on, therefore, and doesn't notice that it isn't Peter's reflection that isn't matching up...it's his own. In fact, standing beside Peter's reflection is a Mohinder clone, grinning creepily back at the former DI.

When Peter turned back to look at his reflection and make sure it was still there, his heart nearly stopped and he flew back, yelping in horror. Oh he knew this would happen! He knew all mirrors were evil. This is why he only had one very small one in his house. Cause they were all cursed and evil. And dear God, Mohinder had a scary smile.

"Jaaaaaack. Please tell me you can see this."

The reflection of Mohinder kept on smiling and started to turn to his reflection, trapped behind the mirror. Oh no. Could he feel what the mirror guy felt? He seriously didn't want to know. He could die happy not knowing.

"Shit. I hate mirrors. I really hate mirrors."

The bickering stops as Owen mentions a heart rate spike and Jack tells Tosh to work harder on restoring visual connection with Peter's contacts. "Hold on, Pete. We're working on it. Mohinder, take a look?"

Several metres ahead, Mohinder turns back to look at Peter and shrugs. He sees -- and therefore both the hub and Owen and Ianto in the SUV -- see Peter standing there, white as a sheet, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. "I don't... Peter...?" Mohinder makes quick work of walking back towards his partner just as his reflection wraps his hands around Peter's reflection's throat.

He's saying something but Peter can't make it out. The way his air suddenly seems missing, though--

"Peter...? PETER!"

He couldn't breath. No matter how hard he tried, there was something choking him, a hand clasped around his neck. It felt real. And yet, no one seemed to be doing anything to help him. Peter hunched over, gasping for breath as he tried to get whatever was choking him off. It wasn't working, how could he grab what wasn't there?

He was going to die!

He reached out, touching the glass and trying desperately to get the reflection off him. If he ever got out of here, he was breaking every mirror ever... wait, actually, that's not a bad idea.

Pulling his fun out of his back pocket, he staggered back with great effort, training it on the mirror and taking several shots. The only way to beat a mirror was to break it... right?

The mirror fell apart and Peter dropped down, breath surging back to him. His throat was killing, everything was blurry and he could faintly hear voices wittering in his ear.

Having not gotten to Peter before the gun was drawn, Mohinder throws himself down instead to protect his face from flying glass. Really? Again? Hasn't he had enough of that in his hair for a life time? There are still scars, faint but still there, from Sylar's little joyful yo-yoing up and down again. Not fun.

And this isn't either. Esspecially with Jack yelling and the shattered glass and the enclosed space where the gun went off left Mohinder's ears ringing. He blinks, shaking his head, trying to push himself up...and realizes that the front of his white shirt is completely soaked in blood.

His trembling hands lift to touch the fabric and the first stings of the gunshots rattle through his body. Mohinder gasps. "Oh-- Oh god--" he moans, and looks up at Peter.

The Scot, likely also suffering from the sound of the blast from the gun, won't see anything on Mohinder at all. The pantomiming, however, will fill him in on what Mohinder thinks -- feels? Perhaps even sees? -- is happening.

"You.. Peter.. Oh God!"

Peter couldn't quite get his head together, lack of oxygen did that. His throat was killing and his head felt like it was falling apart. He crawled along the glass, ignoring how it dug in. He finally looked up at Mohinder and -- well, he hadn't expected to see that much blood. He couldn't really hear Mohinder and he wasn't capable of much more than a rasp right now.

Forcing himself onto his feet, he reached out and grabbed onto Mohinder, yanking him towards the exit the best he could. He had to get them out of here. Now. He could worry about Mohinder and the pain he was in when they were away from the evil mirrors. But right now? They needed to leave.

He didn't know what could happen next but the fire exit was right there. He slammed himself against it more than once, desperately fighting with the lock. When it didn't open, he hauled them both back and took another shot, blowing the lock right off the door.

He didn't respond to Jack, not until he saw grass and the great outdoors once more. Only then did he reach out, trying to do something to stop the bleeding.

"Owen. Now. He's dying!" He managed to get out, not sure how he was meant to treat gun shots. No one had really taught him that.

There's no reply to either of them, no sound from the comms, no Jack or Owen or even Tosh shouting in their ears. There's only the two of them, Mohinder trembling and convulsing as the blood--

Wait. Blood?

The man's shirt is pristine. There are no gun shot wounds to his abdomen, just as there are no marks of the reflection-Mohinder's fingers around his throat. In fact, there's nothing at all but two men gasping at one another in the grass in front of the fun house of what had been a run down old theme park and now looks alive.

Well. At least lit up and filled with a few dozen people, more than half of them in mascot costumes, staring at the pair from the sidelines as they roll around together.

Mohinder blinks down at himself and sits up in confusion.

"I... Oh. Um..." He's not sure what's happening, frankly.

This was like an incredibly unpleasant horror film. The worst kind, actually. Not only was he hallucinating or something that Mohinder was dying but now a whole load of giant horrible mascots were watching them recover for the horrors of the mirror room. Oh yeah and the stupid comms were down.

"Fuck."

What? What else could he say? He was stuck here now, he had no way out. They were going to be eaten and skinned alive by people in giant monkey and bear costumes.

"We should run away. Like now. And just leave. Jack can fire us all he wants, I want to live," Peter babbled slightly, his voice still a little croaky from the force he'd felt on his throat. He definitely wanted to get out of here now.

"Captain," Mohinder says, not to ignore Peter, but to get a confirmation on the run away scheme. He really, really likes that idea, even if he recognizes a few faces from the missing people photographs he'd seen at the briefing. With the lights and the music and all of the rides going, they, and the mascots, turn to leave them alone. For now.

There's only static in his ears as the comm remains dead and he pulls the device out and pockets it, eyes never leaving Peter's face.

"I... I would have to say this but-- I agree with you, one hundred percent." He lets Peter pull him to his feet and together, they start off towards the gate. Mohinder does his best not to bump into anyone. It's rather disorienting.

Oh thank God that Mohinder gave in for once and acted like a coward. This place was hell and they needed out. He dashed to the entrance faster than anything he'd ever ran to before, legs moving better than he thought they would considering everything that had happened. That was what desperate to leave did to someone. And because of his own blind wanting, he didn't see the mascot near the gate till he collided full pelt with him.

They both landed on the floor and the first thing that hit Peter was the smell that came from the costume. It was like ... rotting. Like that dead hooker he found on that one case, left under a bed for days in a motel. The smell was awful.

And the body was solid. That was wrong, shouldn't it be more plush?

As he scrambled off, the mascot said something unintelligible and sat up itself, looking right at Peter. Probably. How could he tell with the suit on?

Peter leapt onto his feet and backed up, making sure Mohinder was still with him. Thank God, he was right there. Still standing because he wasn't a totally uncoordinated moron.

As the mascot found it feet, never once taking it's eyes off them, it's hands settled on the oversized bear head. "Hey there boys, want to see my head come off?"

Okay, not only was the voice scary as hell and worryingly chipper but Peter so didn't need to see what would happen next. Without stopping to look, he started to run again. "Mohinder! I hate this place so much!"

Peter, you can't just run away so fast without being absolutely sure that Mohinder is right there with you! Otherwise, terrible thing occur. Like now, for instance. As Peter has gone off sprinting towards the food stands on Main Street, Mohinder is still standing there, wetting his lips, staring up at the giant bear with the bright pink skin and that putrid stench coming from it.

The question is off. The voice is even worse. But honestly, what has Mohinder's feet planted to the floor? It's curiosity. He's a bloody scientist. Unfortunately, that means he does stupid things from time to-- Oh, who is anyone kidding? Most of Torchwood is filled with geniuses, and while Mohinder is one of them, he's also too dumb to live sometimes.

As the mascot lifts off it's head, a yellowish pus drips down it's fur. The sound of fabric and...oh god. Bone? fills the air. The others have stopped again, standing to the side. Watching.

Mohinder is too.

His eyes are almost unfocused with fear. "I... no. No."

Edited 2013-11-02 21:35 (UTC)

Peter didn't stop running till he hit the food stand, turning his head to see where Mohinder was. And he wasn't there.

... How?!

Fuck! God damn bloody fucking shit! In annoyance, he violently kicked the food stand, knowing he had to go back. Even if every impulse said not to. And he was so close to the gate as well. With a groan, he took off back in the direction he'd came, noting the crowd that had formed.

"Mohinder! Mohinder, you moron, come on!"

He didn't mean to get insulting but seriously? He stayed to watch? Why? Why?! This was exactly how dumb blondes died in horror films.

And, lucky for Peter, he came back just in time to see the pus and the snapped bones. The horrible sight that was a mascot removing what seemed to be a bears head mixed with ... zombie human heady stuff? He didn't want to know.

"Mohinder! Run!"

Run? Run where? Mohinder blinks at Peter in confusion before he feels a hand on his elbow. Right. Run!

Nothing comes after them, but there's laughter in the air, mixed with the sounds of music from the rides. A grating static his it intermittantly as if the batteries on the radio are slowly dying or they're stuck in some sort of reverse loop. The feedback ends as they jet past the Ferris Wheel. And the fun house. Just across a barrier of rose bushes and lush landscape, one of the tunnel of love boats emerges from a tunnel and the people riding inside of it look fused at the head and the chest--

They're alive, Mohinder can see that, struggling to get apart from one another desperately. He just doesn't have time to slow down and do it. Pumping his arms, he manages to catch up with Peter just past the carousel and almost tackles him into the bushes as a group of squishy sounding mascots round the bend.

No talking.

Not right now. Mohinder squeezes his eyes shut tightly and holds his breath.