(no subject)
Disintegration (Ch 1-5)
Heroes | Sylar, Mohinder, Matt, Molly, Audrey, OC
PG13-NC17 | 13788 words
Chapter 1
The leaves rustled softly beneath her feet as she climbed down the trellis, jumping down to feel the soft ground sink below her heels. Her hand mingled along the crisp white wood before turning around to make her way down the street.
Kicking her foot out, she stopped suddenly when she noticed a shadowed figure standing a few feet away, leaning against a tree trunk. Her heartbeat quickening, she backed up to the wall, watching his arms unwind from their crossed state as he stepped forward.
She glanced up at the open window quickly, preparing to scale the wall again as the shadowed figure continued to move towards her. Digging her heels into the ground, her eyes caught the moonlight as it cascaded over the figures features. A strong, chiseled face with dark, hallowed eyes flowed in and out of the light. Her nerves began to slow down as she soon figured out he was not a man of authority.
The man’s face was illuminated once he had cleared the branches of the overgrown tree and Emilie eyes were instantly drawn to his features. The sketchy images of his face that were clouded by the shadows earlier became clear. His face was framed in a halo of short dark hair that was styled expertly, and his jaw held the beginnings of stubble. She was so entranced by the mystery surrounding the man that she hadn’t realized that he was standing just a few inches from her.
Looking up to his face, her blue eyes met with his dark brown ones and she noticed his gaze divert down. She followed the direction his eyes were pointing, observing the spray of red smeared on her white shirt. His hand outstretched towards her and she snapped her head up, pushing herself from the wall and out of his way. Within seconds, she was standing behind him, staring at his back. It seemed the man was thrown off guard as she watched his head move side to side in confusion before whizzing around to face her.
His disorientation in the matter was quickly squashed when a smile played upon his lips and he brought his hand up. The girl saw his gesture, feeling his fingers graze the side of her arm; she used her lightning quick reflexes to grab a hold of his hand and wrench it back.
As a defense mechanism, Sylar yelled out, unknowingly pushing her away with his abilities. Emilie was thrown from his side, her back making a violent contact with the wet grass. She grimaced, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Twisting her upper body to the right, she felt the loud crack echo in the air as she took the time to observe the mud that had caked on her skin before directing her attention to the wall.
She squinted through watery eyes at the side of the house, finding its previous visitor missing. Surveying the perimeter of the yard, she noticed his absence and sighed, slowly pulling herself up.
Emilie had only gotten half of the way up when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a blur followed by her body becoming rigid. Sylar re-emerged from the shadows, holding a hand out in her direction. Emilie cursed to herself; her ability was of no use if she couldn’t voluntarily move her muscles. He moved closer until he was looming over her, his eyes boring into her skull.
Noticing the hold he had on her body was lessening, Emilie waited patiently until she knew she had enough of her movement back. His control decreased suddenly and Emilie took the opportunity to ball both fists and bring them down on his shoulders. Once again, her body was flung down on the ground before her fists could even brush his clothes.
She brought herself up again but Sylar clasped his hands around her wrists and pounded her body back down against the cold ground. Emilie painfully struggled beneath his grasp, holding a steady expression even though bits of grimace showed. Keeping his eyes on her face, he was surprised when she stopped struggling and watched a devious grin appear on her lips.
Sylar tilted his head to the side slightly, curious by her sudden change of demeanor. His hands still holding her wrists, Emilie held back a laugh, maneuvering her face closer to his as she whispered in the dark.
“What do you plan on doing to me?” she asked, flirtatious tones breaking the grievous atmosphere. Sylar narrowed his eyes, not quite believing what she had just said. He stood above her body, staring down at her face inches from his until a sharp pain in his stomach caused him to roll off her and crumple to the ground. Emilie moved fast, pulling herself up ten times quicker than a normal human being. She straightened up and glanced back at Sylar, who was recovering from a swift knee to the torso. Her lips curled into a grin and she let out a small laugh before opening the picket fence to the street.
“Men…” she mumbled in amusement, stuffing her bloodstained hands in the pockets of her jeans and whistling softly in the night.
Chapter 2
Standing at the doorway, she outstretched her hand towards the doorbell to ring again but the door opened before her nail met the button. There, standing at the door, was a middle-aged man; he was wearing a robe and his hair was wet and messy. “Are you here for the articles?” he asked, his right hand reaching for a towel. Emilie was thrown off, but she quickly recovered, responding “Yes.”
She feared that he noticed her hesitance but he didn’t seem too as he motioned her to come in. “Good,” he said, shaking the towel through his hair as Emilie walked into the foyer. He grabbed a large folder and threw it in her arms hastily, “Get this to John immediately. He wants it to run in the morning.” As if excusing her presence, he turned his back and continued to walk down the hallway.
Emilie stared down at the folder, placing in on the table to her right, as she followed behind him. This time he noticed and as he turned his body around to face her, Emilie grasped his arm and pounded his body into the wall. The large mural that hung on the wall fell to the ground and shattered as she dug her elbow into his windpipe.
“Hi there.” Emilie said childishly, her elbow pushing deeper into his throat. The man’s arms waved wildly as he coughed, spitting out words, “Y…you’re… not with th..e.. paper…” An amused grin appeared on her face and she responded, sarcastically, “You’re smart.” His eyes grew wide when her hand grasped the neck of a vase, throwing it against the edge of the table as it severed. Pulling her arm back she brought the vase to his chest, the jagged shards scraping him as she tore it through his skin.
Her nerves jumped as the beginnings of the adrenaline rush kicked in. He made an almost inaudible gasp as his body slide down the wall to the wooden floor below. She dropped the remains of the vase, the glass crashing when it met the ground. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the table, seeing the folder lying on the counter. Curious, she opened it and pulled out the papers. Examining the text, her eyes read the article,
WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT
Brooklyn officers were called on Thursday to an apartment on the lower west side. A 911 call was placed at 11:40pm citing a disturbance where a witness was said to have seen two figures, a male and a female, in an unknown altercation. When police arrived on scene, both suspects were gone but they discovered the body of Michelle Chacon in her living room. The case was quickly renamed as a homicide and upon further investigation; forensics found that the injuries sustained were linked to blunt-force trauma to the head. It is unclear if her death is linked to the supposed Sylar case, where individuals throughout the nation were found with massive injury to the head or neck.
A faint pained cry caused Emilie to tear her eyes from the article and look down at the man on the floor. She muffled a laugh as she saw him make a failed attempt to move and she glanced back at the paper, her attention drawn to the last sentence. She remembered reading a few articles awhile back on a mysterious man known as Sylar.
Thinking back, her memory reminded her of her enthrallment of the story; the fact that his victims were found with their brains removed and no evidence only piqued her interest.
The man made another dying whimper and Emilie’s memory clicked. “Sonauva…” she seethed, throwing down the papers and walking over the man’s body towards the kitchen. Her mind went back to the night before, to the man who was waiting outside. She knew he seemed familiar but she couldn’t remember why. Walking behind the island, she grabbed a sharp knife, returning back to the foyer to begin her work. If she could find a way to get the police off her trail, she would; so she began to run the blade across the man’s forehead, causing more pained cries to echo in the hallway.
----
Walking back into the kitchen, a shrill ring startled her and she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a cell phone. Examining the unknown number shown on the screen, she placed the item she had been holding on the table, using her nail to flip open the phone and place it next to her ear.
“Hello?” Emilie answered, letting her free hand roam around the table top. “Is this Emilie De Marco?” a masculine voice carrying a slight British accent asked on the line. Emilie’s eyes narrowed, her left hand wrapping around the handle of a butcher knife, “Who is this?”
She heard the man clear his throat, as he responded, “I’m sorry. My name is Mohinder Suresh. My father did some research on people with abilities; I believe you may be one of them.” Lifting her left hand into the air and hovering it above the table, she paused, staring blankly at the wall across from her. The silence caused the man’s voice to emerge from the speaker once more, “Hello? Are you still there?” he asked and Emilie blinked out of her trance, responding almost abruptly, “Where can we meet?”
Listening intently to his instructions, she said her goodbye, squashing any sort of suspicion he may have had. Her index finger outstretched and she snapped the phone shut, bringing her left hand down quickly, the blade sinking into the countertop. Emilie stuffed the cell back into her pocket, grabbing her jacket and throwing it on as she exited the kitchen and headed for the door.
----
For the second time that day, Emilie found herself waiting at a door. Her arms dangled to her sides, her fingers shaking slightly from the after effects of her last deed. After a few minutes, her foot began to tap and she anticipated leaving but the door flew open and she stopped. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Please come in, Miss De Marco.” She stepped out and walked into the apartment, flashing a genuine smile in the young man’s direction.
As she moved into the apartment, her eyes glanced around. It was crowded, with papers piled on top of tables and research equipment mingling with child toys. She turned to speak to the young man, but a small girl came walking in from a room in the back and Emilie brought her attention on her as she spoke.
“Dr. Suresh!” the girl exclaimed, running up to the man, “I think I know where that girl is…” her eyes sparkled in joy, “She’s somewhere near!” Emilie saw the young man walk by her and kneel down to the side of the child.
“Yes, she is Molly.” He smiled and pointed his finger in Emilie’s direction, “She’s very near.” The small child’s face lit up and she beamed at Emilie and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Why don’t you go back and play, ok Molly?” the man asked and the girl gave him a hug and ran back towards the room she had emerged from earlier.
Mohinder stood back up and he outstretched his arm in a welcoming manner, “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Walking towards the desk, Emilie pulled out the chair and sat down as the young man sat across from her. Before he had a chance to speak, Emilie began to ask the hard questions, “So that’s how you found me.” She said, pointing towards the door where the girl was playing.
The young man shrugged, placing a folder in front of her as he replied, “That… and this.” Emilie picked up the folder and opened it. Its contents included a list of names, a few charts with test results, and a method of location. The red dates caught her attention and she read them, bringing her eyes up, to meet the dark eyes of the man. “This happened 2 days ago?” she asked, pointing to the name of the woman she had killed days earlier.
Mohinder looked at her, directing his gaze towards the paper, and responded, “Yes…” He shot his eyes back up to her face when she quickly inquired, “Why are there so many people dead?” Emilie watched his face change, as he looked down at the table, his hand tightening around the glass of water in his grasp.
When he spoke, his voice held confusion and he kept his eyes down, “I would have assumed it was by Sylar, but it doesn’t make much sense.” Emilie responded back, placing the list back in the folder, “Why wouldn’t it make sense?” She sat back in the chair, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones as they lifted up. Mohinder answered her, causing the young girl to hesitate, “…because Sylar is dead.”
Dropping her gaze down to the table, her voice was almost inaudible when she spoke, “Are you sure about that?” She kept her eyes on the folder for a few minutes before lifting her attention back on Mohinder. Emilie was startled when she noticed his expression had changed drastically. He was no longer confused, his face contorted in a mixture of shock and fear.
She moved forward in her chair, her voice on the verge of speaking but Mohinder had already pulled himself up from the desk and was rushing towards the backroom. Startled and curious, Emilie followed behind him, stopping at the doorway as the young man knelt besides the girl.
“Molly.” He said, “You need to find the boogeyman.” The girl’s eyes lifted towards his face and she scrunched her nose in confusion. “But the boogeym…” she was cut off by the man’s urgent plea and Emilie watched on.
Mohinder took her hand and asked again, “Molly. Where is the boogeyman?”
----
The trail of blood led to the kitchen and he looked around the room, before his eyes rested on the tabletop. As if it was a piece of artwork, the man’s brain rested on the table, a butcher knife propped out of the parietal lobe. Sylar growled in annoyance, noticing its location. It was of no use to him now.
Taking a deep sigh, he turned to leave when he noticed a piece of paper taped to the side of the plate. He stopped and outstretched his hand, pulling it from the table. In neat, black handwriting wrote the word “Enjoy.” Sylar clenched his jaw, crushing the paper in his palm. His irritation manifested itself when he threw his hands up in frustration, the table flipping over as it shattered against the wall. Growling once more, he turned to exit the apartment, leaving the brain lying idly on the floor.
Chapter 3
Her eyes watched on in amazement when she saw the girl’s small hand hover over a map of the city. Emilie couldn’t understand what was going on but as soon as her hand lowered and the pin dug into the paper, it all clicked. Molly opened her eyes and looked down at the map.
“419 E. Keaton Blvd…” Mohinder’s voice sounded and he looked at Molly. Emilie fidgeted and she pushed her body away from the doorframe, responding quickly, “I have to go.” Mohinder snapped his head up in her direction, almost jumping up from his position as she turned to walk towards the door.
He rushed after her, his hand grazing the surface of her shoulder. Emilie turned once his hand touched her and Mohinder replied hastily, “If you’re going after him… don’t,” Emilie stared at him, she heard his concern but it didn’t register. “He’s dangerous.” As he finished his sentence, he noticed her eyes flash; a sense of coldness filling them.
“So am I.” she said, finally turning the knob and leaving the apartment.
As soon as she closed the door and walked down the hall, her ability kicked into gear, rushing as fast as she could home. One minute had passed and she was standing at her door, key in hand. Throwing open the front door, she hurried through the living room, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from her jacket pocket.
Grabbing her laptop, she plopped down on the couch, sprawling her legs out on the cushions. Unfolding the paper, she gazed down at the list, red lined names listed sporadically between locations and blue inked names. Her heartbeat finally calming down, she began to copy the names and locations onto the keypad.
Emilie’s fingers typed away at the keys, tearing her eyes away from the screen upon hearing a faint clicking sound. Locating the source of the disturbance, she crumpled the paper and stuffed it in-between the cushions, watching as the lock to the front door switched and the knob turned. She had been continuing to type as she witnessed the odd phenomenon, stopping as she noticed the door open; a familiar young man walking through the doorframe.
“That is called breaking and entering.” She said, throwing emphasis on the ‘is’, “I could have you arrested for that.” Pulling her hands from the keyboard, she rested them in her lap, seeing Sylar push the door closed, staring at her silently.
Emilie returned her hands to the computer, distracting her attention to it once more. “I would assume you got my note?” she inquired, holding her gaze on the lit screen. Sylar glared at her, tension building in his voice, “You’re becoming an annoyance.” Hearing his dark tone respond, Emilie laughed, extremely amused, “Really?” she paused long enough to lift her eyes up to his face, letting a smug grin overtake her features, “Are you afraid of a little competition?”
Watching his expression, she could tell he wasn’t amused as he continued to glare at her silently. She returned back to her work, placing her fingers on the keys until she noticed his black coat standing next to the screen. Raising her eyes back up, she pulled her hands back quickly as her laptop closed under the pressure of Sylar’s hand.
Meeting his glare with one of her own, she seethed angrily, taking a light sigh as she sat back against the arm of the couch. “So… what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing back up at his face. Sylar stood above her, his leg brushing against the sofa’s cushions, continuing his silent glare.
“You don’t speak much, do you Sylar?” her eyebrows raised in curiosity. The young man flinched, finally changing his expression, as he spoke, “How did you know my name?” Emilie muffled a laugh, opening the laptop and responding amused, “Mohinder Suresh.” She paused, examining his eyes from above the screen. “Sound familiar?”
Sylar swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression vacant. “Vaguely.” He looked past her towards the window but brought his attention back when he heard a giggle and saw her beaming up at him. Emile scrunched her face in a mocking manner, changing her tone to match an immature teenager, “He thinks you’re dead.” She continued to watch his face, the wide smile disappearing until a low growl echoed in her ears and the smile returned. Taking the time to idly throw her caramel blonde hair up in a messy ponytail, she placed her hands back on the keyboard but threw them off when Sylar took a hold of the screen and began to turn it towards him.
Her fast reflexes pumping into action, she shot out her hands and grabbed the laptop, shutting it closed. Angered, she pointed her finger at him, responding, “Ah ah ah. You don’t get to see what’s on there.” A low growl echoed in the room again and she found herself being pulled from the couch by her jacket’s zipper, the laptop thrown onto the cushions. Sylar tossed her into the open area of the great room as she stumbled to regain her footing. Straightening up, her eyes flashed in slight surprise as she added satisfied, “There’s the Sylar I want.”
Sylar’s muscles tensed, beginning his advance on her. “You really shouldn’t mess with me.” Emilie felt his bitter response and she started to back up, transferring her gaze from his face to his hands. Startled by his sudden change of behavior, she stammered, “I guess I shouldn’t, since it seems to…” she broke off, seeing his hand twitch. “upset you a bit.” Finishing her sentence, her blue eyes lifted back up towards his face. He spent no time acknowledging her behavior, moving closer until she felt the wall press against her back.
Emilie saw his arms brush by her as they lifted, planting themselves on either side of her head, pinning her. An accomplished smile broke out on Sylar’s face and he glanced down at her, “Now this is more like it.” Hoping that she wouldn’t find out what he was planning; Emilie darted to the right, trying to move out of his way, but his hand flung out and grabbed her, pounding her against the brick wall.
Her head crashed against the surface, a loud crack ringing through the apartment as she slid down the partition. Sylar wrapped his hands around her shoulders, keeping her from falling down and intensifying her disorientation. Releasing her left shoulder, he dropped his arm; curling it underneath her leg and bringing up as he moved forward. Her head still spinning from the blow, Emilie placed her hands on his chest, in a futile attempt to keep him from advancing any more.
Blinking her eyes, she lifted them up to gaze into his, as she responded softly, “What are you doing?” His lips curled into an indescribable smile and he added, “You asked me what I was going to do to you the last time we met…” He watched her face change, her blue eyes flashing in confusion, before lowering his face down to place his lips against hers. He felt her resist against him, and he smiled when she soon gave in, her palms sliding down his stomach. His hand pulled her leg higher as it wrapped around his body, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down her neck. Emilie closed her eyes, her head pressing against the rough bricks. Sylar continued his pursuit until he felt her hands return back to his chest, pushing him off.
“No.” she breathed, pushing him farther away. Sylar laughed, dropping her leg in the process, “You don’t have much of a choice.” He said amused, brushing his hand up to slowly drag the zipper of her jacket down. Lowering his face to the crevice of her neck, he continued, sucking lightly on her skin. “Why don’t you use your ability against me…” he asked, his warm breath sending chills down her spine. He smiled when he heard her heartbeat quicken, dipping his hand beneath her shirt to slide up her stomach. “I could always take it away, if you wanted.” Emilie stood frozen, feeling his hand roam over her stomach, stopping just above her naval. Sylar pulled his body back, maneuvering himself to face her. “Do you want me to take it?” Emilie stared into the deep pools that were his eyes, taking a moment before responding…
“Yes.”
Chapter 4
Emilie closed her eyes, seeing his right hand lift up towards her forehead. The tight connection he had on her shoulder lessened and she opened her eyes, finding him looking at the front door. “What…” her voice trailing off as her body jumped, hearing a loud rap on the door. Sylar kept his eyes on the entryway, his hand withdrawing from her arm as his body moved back.
Another loud knock followed shortly after, a deep raspy voice sounding in the hallway, “New York City Police. We know you’re in there, Miss De Marco, please open the door.” Emilie stood frozen, her head looking towards Sylar, as if asking for his opinion. He didn’t seem to notice her gaze; his eyes continuously glued to the entry.
Again, the knock sounded, this time louder and more hurried. Emilie shot her eyes to the door, her head returning back to Sylar as he reached out his hand and grabbed her arm, pushing her towards the entrance. She walked cautiously to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
“Emilie De Marco?” the officer asked, finally viewing her at the entry. Emilie dropped her hand from the knob, replying, “Yes?” Her eyes drifted behind the officer, noticing two more standing at the wall, both of their hands on their holsters. The clink of metal sounded and she brought her eyes back on the main officer, seeing his hand extract a pair of handcuffs.
“You’re under arrest.” The man said, grabbing her hand and turning her around. She felt the binding of the metal around her wrists and rolled her eyes, hearing the officer recite the Miranda rights. The two officers that had been standing in the hallway moved forward, the younger one curling his hand around her elbow and guiding her back away from the door.
Emilie caught a glimpse of Sylar, his face shrouded in what little shadows available during the early afternoon. His eyes followed the officers, watching every move they made before finally resting on her. A coy smile crept on her face and her shoulders shrugged slightly before the officer tugged on her arm and she followed them down the hall.
She had cooperated for the most part, letting them guide her out of the apartment building and onto the street below, where a cop car was waiting for them. Taking a few steps onto the concrete, the main officer walked before them, rounding the front of the car while the second officer, walked up to the door, ready to open it. The young cop led her towards the car, releasing her arm as his partner opened the back door. Emilie took the opportunity, sending the back of her skull into the man’s face.
Spinning around, she saw the red flowing freely from his nose as he tried to regain his composure. Emilie smiled at the sight, forgetting about the second officer until her body was flung violently against the cop car.
The main officer jumped out of the car, running around the front as her body was pulled away from the window. Feeling the tight grasp on her arm, she noticed the lead officer’s name tag, her eyes lifting up to note his impatience with her behavior. Officer Bartone took a deep sigh, drawing his attention from the young cop who was frantically trying to stop the blood. “Congratulations Miss De Marco, you just received another blemish on that record of yours.” He said, nodding to the second officer as he turned to walk back to the driver’s seat.
Watching him walk away, the cop placed his hand on her head, shoving her into the car as he glared at her. The car door closed and she saw the young cop, with his hand plastered over his face, walk up and open the front door, taking a seat in the passengers section. Emilie rested her head back against the headrest, looking up through the window to see the sun shield itself in black.
----
Sylar observed the scene below, smiling when he saw her head connect with one of the officer’s nose. When she was forced into the car, he pulled away from the window, walking back into the living room. He stepped up towards the couch, picking up the laptop as he sat down on the cushions.
Opening up the computer, he examined the screen. His fingers clicked a key, a loud beep sounding as a pop up box appeared. Sylar’s eyes scanned the message, noticing the blank rectangle needing a password.
He slammed the laptop shut, clenching his jaw as he flung it towards the wall. “Fuck!” he yelled, watching the laptop slam into the brick partition. Pushing himself up from the couch, he stormed out of the building, walking out into the street to head towards the police station. He never thought he would be doing what he was doing now.
----
The man’s hand was clamped tightly around her upper arm, dragging her through the narrow hallway. Whistles and dog howls echoed around her as they continued down the corridor until the officer stopped short. He turned towards her, releasing her arm but grabbing at her wrists, both rising up due to the cuffs wrapped around them. Digging around in his pocket, he extracted his keys, unlocking the restraints as he once again grabbed her arm and threw her into the cell, quickly closing the gate behind her. “Get used to it.”
Emilie took a glance down at the ground and then lifted her eyes back up in the officer’s direction, responding back, “How’s your nose?” The young officer, glared at her through swollen features, the bridge of his nose starting to turn purple. He slammed his open palm against the bars, gritting his teeth in disgust, “You want to play games?” he asked, glaring at her, “Fine. We can always add more years to your sentence.” He watched her roll her eyes, standing defiantly on the other side before he turned to walk down the hallway.
A metallic sound echoed and Emilie walked through the cell, collapsing on the small cot in the corner. She turned onto her back, her eyes observing the dingy ceiling. An hour passed and she counted her thousandth tile before a sound jerked her from her task. Turning her head, she saw Officer Bartone standing at the cell.
“What do you want?” she said uninterested, her eyes returning back to the ceiling. He cleared his throat, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. “Get up, you’re coming with me.” Emilie raised an eyebrow, lifting her back from the cot to push herself up. She walked up to the cell door, lifting her arms up and resting her wrists together in front of him.
He looked down at her, responding to her action, “I’m hoping I don’t have to use handcuffs.” Emilie smiled and shrugged, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she followed the three officers through the hallway.
She walked alongside the officers, continuously glancing to her right at the one she had injured. He kept his eyes forward, his muscles visibly tense as they reached the main offices. Officer Bartone turned to face Emilie, stopping in front of a large door. His hand rested on the knob and he turned it, stepping out of the way to reveal a room.
Emilie stepped forward, stopping shortly to turn towards the young cop, “Ice helps.” She said, walking into the room as the officer made a sharp movement forward, his action causing another officer to hold him back.
Taking a seat, Emilie looked at her surroundings. Mirrored glass surrounding the walls and the table was placed directly in the center. Her eyes lifted when the door opened and two people walked in, a man and a woman. They both took a seat across the table from her and Emilie was able to make a more accurate analysis of their features. The woman was small, with short blonde hair and a deadlocked demeanor, while the man was a bit on the heavier side, staring intently at her as if he was trying to bore into her skull.
“Emilie De Marco?” the woman asked, her voice keeping its serious tone. Emilie brought her eyes up to the woman, after smiling at the man. “Yes?”
The blonde stood by the edge of the table, a pile of folders tucked in her arms. “My name is Agent Audrey Hansen and this Officer Matt Parkman.” Emilie muffled a laugh, turning her head to acknowledge the man’s presence. The woman placed the folders on the table, taking a seat next to the man. “We have a few questions for you.” She said, opening a folder to place on the tabletop.
“Do you recognize these people?” the blonde asked, setting an array of pictures across the table. Emilie’s eyes stared at the woman, drifting them downward shortly to glimpse at the pictures. “No.” she said, lifting her gaze back up. Agent Hanson frowned, dropping her hand to pick up a second folder, this time spreading out numerous depictions of gruesome images. “How about now?” she inquired, her gaze deadlocked on Emilie’s face.
Glancing down at the pictures, she surveyed the faces, smiling to herself before lifting her eyes back up. “What do you think?” her eyes looking at the woman, drifting towards Parkman, as her eyebrow raised.
She saw the man fidget in his seat, looking down at the tile before collecting his thoughts and returning his concentration on her. Emilie sat back in the chair, relishing the absence of restraints. She could tell that the agent was getting impatient so she leaned over the table, finally giving a straight answer, “Yes,” she paused, “I killed them. But…” she trailed off, pushing two images forward on the table. “I didn’t kill these two.”
Agent Hanson pursed her lips, looking down at the two victims identified before replying, “Your DNA is all over their crime scenes.” Moving forward in her seat, Emilie responded hastily, “I never said I didn’t know them.” The blonde slammed her hand down, her voice rising in volume, “Then who killed them!?”
Emilie pushed herself up from the chair, her hands gripping the edge of the table, “Who do you think!” she yelled, her cold gaze fixated on the woman’s face. The screech from a chair echoed in the room and both women looked over just as Officer Parkman left the room. Audrey looked back at Emilie, seeing a sadistic grin planted on her face. “He got the clue.” She said, as the FBI agent followed after her partner, leaving her alone in the small room.
Chapter 5
Falling back into the chair, she sighed and looked up at the ceiling. She knew she was still being watched, that familiar feeling creeping through her body as she closed her eyes. Although it was faint, her ears perked at the sound of a disturbance in the hallway and she lifted her head back up to stare at the door. A few minutes passed with silence, her ears straining for any sort of noise when three short and muffled bangs sounded behind the glass. She narrowed her eyes just as the door flung open, Sylar standing in the hall. “Let’s go.” He said; his gaze fixed on her in an almost possessive manner.
Emilie turned her head, her eyes looking at the table and its contents, “No thanks.” She heard the shuffle of his feet as he moved into the room, a low growl echoing as his deep voice responded, “You want to stay here?” She picked up a picture of one of the victims she had identified, a man in his late 20’s; a man she used to go out with. “I’ll take my chances.” She answered, keeping her gaze on the image.
“I won’t.” Sylar’s voice sounded and he grasped her arm, but she wrenched it back. Pushing herself up from the chair, Emilie faced Sylar, turning the picture so it was in his view, “You killed him, didn’t you?”
He gave her an annoyed look, finally dropping his eyes to look at the picture. Examining the image, he recognized the man immediately; the only individual he killed who didn’t actually have an ability. A miscommunication that he vowed would never happen again. “Maybe.” He replied, lifting his gaze to her face. Emilie gave a disgusted look, her hands dropping to her sides as she processed his cryptic response.
Although she had tried to keep it at bay, the anger she felt began to build up and she turned her body quickly, snatching the metal chair with the intent on slamming it into Sylar’s torso. It made a clean contact and the impact sent him into the ground, his arms moving frantically to push himself up. Emilie walked up to his body, throwing the chair down as it made a loud crash upon hitting the tile. She brought her leg back, another premeditative strike to his body, but Sylar snapped out his hand.
His arm pulled back and she lost her footing, her body falling to the cold ground. Lying on her back, her mind finally caught up with her body; her eyes diverting to glance at Sylar. He had already propped himself up, crawling over her so he was inches from her face. “You’re quite testy, aren’t you?” He asked, his lips curling into a sneer.
Emilie growled, swiftly bringing her knee up as it made a hard contact with his jaw. Scrambling backwards, she pushed herself up and turned, running towards the open door. Her foot stepped into the door frame and she heard a loud creaking noise, the door slamming shut.
Jumping back just in time, she stood frozen at the doorway, her nose centimeters from the metal door. The sudden jolt of adrenaline caused her heartbeat to increase and she turned around to see Sylar standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched. Dropping his hand, Emilie noticed his expression. It was one of irritation and displeasure as he brought his other hand up to dab the blood that had formed on his lower lip.
Giving him an irate glare, she turned back to the door, grasping the handle. Jerking it upwards, the door kept glued shut, her efforts lacking even a budge. She slammed her open palm against the metal, her frustration and anger building up, as she flipped around, her neck throwing her head back to bang against the door.
Sylar pulled his hand away and observed the red stains drying on his skin, raising his eyes to notice the hurt hidden on Emilie’s face.
“You were the girlfriend, weren’t you?” he asked dryly, seeing Emilie’s eyes open to stare at him. Her silent response was enough to answer his question and he sent his fist into the wall, pushing himself away to pace around the room. His anger lessened and he looked back over at her, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly as he replied, “Well, you’re still a target.”
His words caused her to cock her head to the side, her palms lying flat against the metal as if anticipating an attack. She was right as he made his way closer to her, lifting his hand slightly to twitch as she felt the pull on her body appear. Grasping the handle of the door, the force of his ability caused strain on her muscles and she bit her lip, muffling a pained cry.
Sylar took a deep sigh; he didn’t appreciate her fight against him, it just made things more drawn out and trivial. He saw her grip weaken on the door handle, flicking his hand again as she moved closer and he got a hold of her.
Throwing her onto the table, he leaned over her body, his arm putting pressure on her ribcage. He dug his elbow in between the bones and she gasped loudly, grimace showing in her features. Sylar smirked, keeping the pressure tight on her ribs.
“I was curious though,” he said, pausing to pull back his elbow, “What was on that laptop?” Emilie stared up at him, making a sudden movement of her leg, but Sylar caught on, ramming his elbow back into her ribs. Her scream sounded metallic as it rang through the small room, water beginning to well up in her eyes. She bit back the pain, opening her eyes upon hearing the faint tsking that escaped his lips.
Emilie coughed, taking in short breaths as he pulled his arm back. Placing his hands on the table, his eyes narrowed down at her face. She looked into his eyes; the dark hollow holes that looked back at her gave her an eerie feeling like she was being examined on a coroner’s table. Taking a light sigh, she responded to his question, “A list.” She could feel the satisfaction cut through the tension that was mounting in the room and she diverted her gaze away from his face.
Sylar smiled and straightened up, his action letting the girl push herself up to sit on the edge of the table. He moved a few steps back, lifting his right hand slightly to flick it as the door unlatched and opened.
He took a prolonged glance at Emilie, her hand placed against her chest and her gaze pointed downward towards the tiles; before turning to walk to the door. His body hadn’t even moved a few inches before two officers stormed into the room, their guns raised. Sylar spent no time idling, sending the first cop flying into the wall as his body crumpled to the ground. Gunshots rang through the room and Emilie lifted her gaze just as the bullets reversed themselves in midair, slamming into the second officer’s chest.
She looked over at Sylar, her expression vacant and cold as he walked briskly up to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the table. He tugged roughly on her arm, dragging her down the hallway and through the havoc of his work. Pacing through the corridor, she diverted her gaze down towards the officers; some lying in pools of blood or moving slightly, their broken bones unwilling to give them motion.
As soon as they exited the station, Emilie pulled her arm from his grasp, lifting it up to brush off her jacket. “Thanks.” She responded, giving him a small smile before turning to walk down the street. Sylar wasn’t about to let her leave; snapping out his hand to grab the hood of her coat. The tension from the latch he had on her, caused her to turn around and he pulled her closer to him, their faces in close proximity. They stood in that position for what seemed like hours, both of their eyes locked in an impenetrable stare.
Emilie was the first to speak, her voice gentle in contrast with the noises of New York City, “You’re making a scene.” The odd display that was going on in front of the police station; in which a more dire crime had been committed; had caught the attention of some onlookers. Their eyes directed on the two and their whispers filling Sylar’s head to the point of madness.
He tore his eyes away to glance around at the crowd, dropping her jacket from his grasp as she moved backward. The cluster of witnesses dispersed and soon Emilie was lost from his view, her body turning to disappear into the city.
Heroes | Sylar, Mohinder, Matt, Molly, Audrey, OC
PG13-NC17 | 13788 words
Chapter 1
The leaves rustled softly beneath her feet as she climbed down the trellis, jumping down to feel the soft ground sink below her heels. Her hand mingled along the crisp white wood before turning around to make her way down the street.
Kicking her foot out, she stopped suddenly when she noticed a shadowed figure standing a few feet away, leaning against a tree trunk. Her heartbeat quickening, she backed up to the wall, watching his arms unwind from their crossed state as he stepped forward.
She glanced up at the open window quickly, preparing to scale the wall again as the shadowed figure continued to move towards her. Digging her heels into the ground, her eyes caught the moonlight as it cascaded over the figures features. A strong, chiseled face with dark, hallowed eyes flowed in and out of the light. Her nerves began to slow down as she soon figured out he was not a man of authority.
The man’s face was illuminated once he had cleared the branches of the overgrown tree and Emilie eyes were instantly drawn to his features. The sketchy images of his face that were clouded by the shadows earlier became clear. His face was framed in a halo of short dark hair that was styled expertly, and his jaw held the beginnings of stubble. She was so entranced by the mystery surrounding the man that she hadn’t realized that he was standing just a few inches from her.
Looking up to his face, her blue eyes met with his dark brown ones and she noticed his gaze divert down. She followed the direction his eyes were pointing, observing the spray of red smeared on her white shirt. His hand outstretched towards her and she snapped her head up, pushing herself from the wall and out of his way. Within seconds, she was standing behind him, staring at his back. It seemed the man was thrown off guard as she watched his head move side to side in confusion before whizzing around to face her.
His disorientation in the matter was quickly squashed when a smile played upon his lips and he brought his hand up. The girl saw his gesture, feeling his fingers graze the side of her arm; she used her lightning quick reflexes to grab a hold of his hand and wrench it back.
As a defense mechanism, Sylar yelled out, unknowingly pushing her away with his abilities. Emilie was thrown from his side, her back making a violent contact with the wet grass. She grimaced, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Twisting her upper body to the right, she felt the loud crack echo in the air as she took the time to observe the mud that had caked on her skin before directing her attention to the wall.
She squinted through watery eyes at the side of the house, finding its previous visitor missing. Surveying the perimeter of the yard, she noticed his absence and sighed, slowly pulling herself up.
Emilie had only gotten half of the way up when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a blur followed by her body becoming rigid. Sylar re-emerged from the shadows, holding a hand out in her direction. Emilie cursed to herself; her ability was of no use if she couldn’t voluntarily move her muscles. He moved closer until he was looming over her, his eyes boring into her skull.
Noticing the hold he had on her body was lessening, Emilie waited patiently until she knew she had enough of her movement back. His control decreased suddenly and Emilie took the opportunity to ball both fists and bring them down on his shoulders. Once again, her body was flung down on the ground before her fists could even brush his clothes.
She brought herself up again but Sylar clasped his hands around her wrists and pounded her body back down against the cold ground. Emilie painfully struggled beneath his grasp, holding a steady expression even though bits of grimace showed. Keeping his eyes on her face, he was surprised when she stopped struggling and watched a devious grin appear on her lips.
Sylar tilted his head to the side slightly, curious by her sudden change of demeanor. His hands still holding her wrists, Emilie held back a laugh, maneuvering her face closer to his as she whispered in the dark.
“What do you plan on doing to me?” she asked, flirtatious tones breaking the grievous atmosphere. Sylar narrowed his eyes, not quite believing what she had just said. He stood above her body, staring down at her face inches from his until a sharp pain in his stomach caused him to roll off her and crumple to the ground. Emilie moved fast, pulling herself up ten times quicker than a normal human being. She straightened up and glanced back at Sylar, who was recovering from a swift knee to the torso. Her lips curled into a grin and she let out a small laugh before opening the picket fence to the street.
“Men…” she mumbled in amusement, stuffing her bloodstained hands in the pockets of her jeans and whistling softly in the night.
Chapter 2
Standing at the doorway, she outstretched her hand towards the doorbell to ring again but the door opened before her nail met the button. There, standing at the door, was a middle-aged man; he was wearing a robe and his hair was wet and messy. “Are you here for the articles?” he asked, his right hand reaching for a towel. Emilie was thrown off, but she quickly recovered, responding “Yes.”
She feared that he noticed her hesitance but he didn’t seem too as he motioned her to come in. “Good,” he said, shaking the towel through his hair as Emilie walked into the foyer. He grabbed a large folder and threw it in her arms hastily, “Get this to John immediately. He wants it to run in the morning.” As if excusing her presence, he turned his back and continued to walk down the hallway.
Emilie stared down at the folder, placing in on the table to her right, as she followed behind him. This time he noticed and as he turned his body around to face her, Emilie grasped his arm and pounded his body into the wall. The large mural that hung on the wall fell to the ground and shattered as she dug her elbow into his windpipe.
“Hi there.” Emilie said childishly, her elbow pushing deeper into his throat. The man’s arms waved wildly as he coughed, spitting out words, “Y…you’re… not with th..e.. paper…” An amused grin appeared on her face and she responded, sarcastically, “You’re smart.” His eyes grew wide when her hand grasped the neck of a vase, throwing it against the edge of the table as it severed. Pulling her arm back she brought the vase to his chest, the jagged shards scraping him as she tore it through his skin.
Her nerves jumped as the beginnings of the adrenaline rush kicked in. He made an almost inaudible gasp as his body slide down the wall to the wooden floor below. She dropped the remains of the vase, the glass crashing when it met the ground. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the table, seeing the folder lying on the counter. Curious, she opened it and pulled out the papers. Examining the text, her eyes read the article,
WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT
Brooklyn officers were called on Thursday to an apartment on the lower west side. A 911 call was placed at 11:40pm citing a disturbance where a witness was said to have seen two figures, a male and a female, in an unknown altercation. When police arrived on scene, both suspects were gone but they discovered the body of Michelle Chacon in her living room. The case was quickly renamed as a homicide and upon further investigation; forensics found that the injuries sustained were linked to blunt-force trauma to the head. It is unclear if her death is linked to the supposed Sylar case, where individuals throughout the nation were found with massive injury to the head or neck.
A faint pained cry caused Emilie to tear her eyes from the article and look down at the man on the floor. She muffled a laugh as she saw him make a failed attempt to move and she glanced back at the paper, her attention drawn to the last sentence. She remembered reading a few articles awhile back on a mysterious man known as Sylar.
Thinking back, her memory reminded her of her enthrallment of the story; the fact that his victims were found with their brains removed and no evidence only piqued her interest.
The man made another dying whimper and Emilie’s memory clicked. “Sonauva…” she seethed, throwing down the papers and walking over the man’s body towards the kitchen. Her mind went back to the night before, to the man who was waiting outside. She knew he seemed familiar but she couldn’t remember why. Walking behind the island, she grabbed a sharp knife, returning back to the foyer to begin her work. If she could find a way to get the police off her trail, she would; so she began to run the blade across the man’s forehead, causing more pained cries to echo in the hallway.
----
Walking back into the kitchen, a shrill ring startled her and she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a cell phone. Examining the unknown number shown on the screen, she placed the item she had been holding on the table, using her nail to flip open the phone and place it next to her ear.
“Hello?” Emilie answered, letting her free hand roam around the table top. “Is this Emilie De Marco?” a masculine voice carrying a slight British accent asked on the line. Emilie’s eyes narrowed, her left hand wrapping around the handle of a butcher knife, “Who is this?”
She heard the man clear his throat, as he responded, “I’m sorry. My name is Mohinder Suresh. My father did some research on people with abilities; I believe you may be one of them.” Lifting her left hand into the air and hovering it above the table, she paused, staring blankly at the wall across from her. The silence caused the man’s voice to emerge from the speaker once more, “Hello? Are you still there?” he asked and Emilie blinked out of her trance, responding almost abruptly, “Where can we meet?”
Listening intently to his instructions, she said her goodbye, squashing any sort of suspicion he may have had. Her index finger outstretched and she snapped the phone shut, bringing her left hand down quickly, the blade sinking into the countertop. Emilie stuffed the cell back into her pocket, grabbing her jacket and throwing it on as she exited the kitchen and headed for the door.
----
For the second time that day, Emilie found herself waiting at a door. Her arms dangled to her sides, her fingers shaking slightly from the after effects of her last deed. After a few minutes, her foot began to tap and she anticipated leaving but the door flew open and she stopped. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Please come in, Miss De Marco.” She stepped out and walked into the apartment, flashing a genuine smile in the young man’s direction.
As she moved into the apartment, her eyes glanced around. It was crowded, with papers piled on top of tables and research equipment mingling with child toys. She turned to speak to the young man, but a small girl came walking in from a room in the back and Emilie brought her attention on her as she spoke.
“Dr. Suresh!” the girl exclaimed, running up to the man, “I think I know where that girl is…” her eyes sparkled in joy, “She’s somewhere near!” Emilie saw the young man walk by her and kneel down to the side of the child.
“Yes, she is Molly.” He smiled and pointed his finger in Emilie’s direction, “She’s very near.” The small child’s face lit up and she beamed at Emilie and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Why don’t you go back and play, ok Molly?” the man asked and the girl gave him a hug and ran back towards the room she had emerged from earlier.
Mohinder stood back up and he outstretched his arm in a welcoming manner, “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Walking towards the desk, Emilie pulled out the chair and sat down as the young man sat across from her. Before he had a chance to speak, Emilie began to ask the hard questions, “So that’s how you found me.” She said, pointing towards the door where the girl was playing.
The young man shrugged, placing a folder in front of her as he replied, “That… and this.” Emilie picked up the folder and opened it. Its contents included a list of names, a few charts with test results, and a method of location. The red dates caught her attention and she read them, bringing her eyes up, to meet the dark eyes of the man. “This happened 2 days ago?” she asked, pointing to the name of the woman she had killed days earlier.
Mohinder looked at her, directing his gaze towards the paper, and responded, “Yes…” He shot his eyes back up to her face when she quickly inquired, “Why are there so many people dead?” Emilie watched his face change, as he looked down at the table, his hand tightening around the glass of water in his grasp.
When he spoke, his voice held confusion and he kept his eyes down, “I would have assumed it was by Sylar, but it doesn’t make much sense.” Emilie responded back, placing the list back in the folder, “Why wouldn’t it make sense?” She sat back in the chair, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones as they lifted up. Mohinder answered her, causing the young girl to hesitate, “…because Sylar is dead.”
Dropping her gaze down to the table, her voice was almost inaudible when she spoke, “Are you sure about that?” She kept her eyes on the folder for a few minutes before lifting her attention back on Mohinder. Emilie was startled when she noticed his expression had changed drastically. He was no longer confused, his face contorted in a mixture of shock and fear.
She moved forward in her chair, her voice on the verge of speaking but Mohinder had already pulled himself up from the desk and was rushing towards the backroom. Startled and curious, Emilie followed behind him, stopping at the doorway as the young man knelt besides the girl.
“Molly.” He said, “You need to find the boogeyman.” The girl’s eyes lifted towards his face and she scrunched her nose in confusion. “But the boogeym…” she was cut off by the man’s urgent plea and Emilie watched on.
Mohinder took her hand and asked again, “Molly. Where is the boogeyman?”
----
The trail of blood led to the kitchen and he looked around the room, before his eyes rested on the tabletop. As if it was a piece of artwork, the man’s brain rested on the table, a butcher knife propped out of the parietal lobe. Sylar growled in annoyance, noticing its location. It was of no use to him now.
Taking a deep sigh, he turned to leave when he noticed a piece of paper taped to the side of the plate. He stopped and outstretched his hand, pulling it from the table. In neat, black handwriting wrote the word “Enjoy.” Sylar clenched his jaw, crushing the paper in his palm. His irritation manifested itself when he threw his hands up in frustration, the table flipping over as it shattered against the wall. Growling once more, he turned to exit the apartment, leaving the brain lying idly on the floor.
Chapter 3
Her eyes watched on in amazement when she saw the girl’s small hand hover over a map of the city. Emilie couldn’t understand what was going on but as soon as her hand lowered and the pin dug into the paper, it all clicked. Molly opened her eyes and looked down at the map.
“419 E. Keaton Blvd…” Mohinder’s voice sounded and he looked at Molly. Emilie fidgeted and she pushed her body away from the doorframe, responding quickly, “I have to go.” Mohinder snapped his head up in her direction, almost jumping up from his position as she turned to walk towards the door.
He rushed after her, his hand grazing the surface of her shoulder. Emilie turned once his hand touched her and Mohinder replied hastily, “If you’re going after him… don’t,” Emilie stared at him, she heard his concern but it didn’t register. “He’s dangerous.” As he finished his sentence, he noticed her eyes flash; a sense of coldness filling them.
“So am I.” she said, finally turning the knob and leaving the apartment.
As soon as she closed the door and walked down the hall, her ability kicked into gear, rushing as fast as she could home. One minute had passed and she was standing at her door, key in hand. Throwing open the front door, she hurried through the living room, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from her jacket pocket.
Grabbing her laptop, she plopped down on the couch, sprawling her legs out on the cushions. Unfolding the paper, she gazed down at the list, red lined names listed sporadically between locations and blue inked names. Her heartbeat finally calming down, she began to copy the names and locations onto the keypad.
Emilie’s fingers typed away at the keys, tearing her eyes away from the screen upon hearing a faint clicking sound. Locating the source of the disturbance, she crumpled the paper and stuffed it in-between the cushions, watching as the lock to the front door switched and the knob turned. She had been continuing to type as she witnessed the odd phenomenon, stopping as she noticed the door open; a familiar young man walking through the doorframe.
“That is called breaking and entering.” She said, throwing emphasis on the ‘is’, “I could have you arrested for that.” Pulling her hands from the keyboard, she rested them in her lap, seeing Sylar push the door closed, staring at her silently.
Emilie returned her hands to the computer, distracting her attention to it once more. “I would assume you got my note?” she inquired, holding her gaze on the lit screen. Sylar glared at her, tension building in his voice, “You’re becoming an annoyance.” Hearing his dark tone respond, Emilie laughed, extremely amused, “Really?” she paused long enough to lift her eyes up to his face, letting a smug grin overtake her features, “Are you afraid of a little competition?”
Watching his expression, she could tell he wasn’t amused as he continued to glare at her silently. She returned back to her work, placing her fingers on the keys until she noticed his black coat standing next to the screen. Raising her eyes back up, she pulled her hands back quickly as her laptop closed under the pressure of Sylar’s hand.
Meeting his glare with one of her own, she seethed angrily, taking a light sigh as she sat back against the arm of the couch. “So… what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing back up at his face. Sylar stood above her, his leg brushing against the sofa’s cushions, continuing his silent glare.
“You don’t speak much, do you Sylar?” her eyebrows raised in curiosity. The young man flinched, finally changing his expression, as he spoke, “How did you know my name?” Emilie muffled a laugh, opening the laptop and responding amused, “Mohinder Suresh.” She paused, examining his eyes from above the screen. “Sound familiar?”
Sylar swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression vacant. “Vaguely.” He looked past her towards the window but brought his attention back when he heard a giggle and saw her beaming up at him. Emile scrunched her face in a mocking manner, changing her tone to match an immature teenager, “He thinks you’re dead.” She continued to watch his face, the wide smile disappearing until a low growl echoed in her ears and the smile returned. Taking the time to idly throw her caramel blonde hair up in a messy ponytail, she placed her hands back on the keyboard but threw them off when Sylar took a hold of the screen and began to turn it towards him.
Her fast reflexes pumping into action, she shot out her hands and grabbed the laptop, shutting it closed. Angered, she pointed her finger at him, responding, “Ah ah ah. You don’t get to see what’s on there.” A low growl echoed in the room again and she found herself being pulled from the couch by her jacket’s zipper, the laptop thrown onto the cushions. Sylar tossed her into the open area of the great room as she stumbled to regain her footing. Straightening up, her eyes flashed in slight surprise as she added satisfied, “There’s the Sylar I want.”
Sylar’s muscles tensed, beginning his advance on her. “You really shouldn’t mess with me.” Emilie felt his bitter response and she started to back up, transferring her gaze from his face to his hands. Startled by his sudden change of behavior, she stammered, “I guess I shouldn’t, since it seems to…” she broke off, seeing his hand twitch. “upset you a bit.” Finishing her sentence, her blue eyes lifted back up towards his face. He spent no time acknowledging her behavior, moving closer until she felt the wall press against her back.
Emilie saw his arms brush by her as they lifted, planting themselves on either side of her head, pinning her. An accomplished smile broke out on Sylar’s face and he glanced down at her, “Now this is more like it.” Hoping that she wouldn’t find out what he was planning; Emilie darted to the right, trying to move out of his way, but his hand flung out and grabbed her, pounding her against the brick wall.
Her head crashed against the surface, a loud crack ringing through the apartment as she slid down the partition. Sylar wrapped his hands around her shoulders, keeping her from falling down and intensifying her disorientation. Releasing her left shoulder, he dropped his arm; curling it underneath her leg and bringing up as he moved forward. Her head still spinning from the blow, Emilie placed her hands on his chest, in a futile attempt to keep him from advancing any more.
Blinking her eyes, she lifted them up to gaze into his, as she responded softly, “What are you doing?” His lips curled into an indescribable smile and he added, “You asked me what I was going to do to you the last time we met…” He watched her face change, her blue eyes flashing in confusion, before lowering his face down to place his lips against hers. He felt her resist against him, and he smiled when she soon gave in, her palms sliding down his stomach. His hand pulled her leg higher as it wrapped around his body, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down her neck. Emilie closed her eyes, her head pressing against the rough bricks. Sylar continued his pursuit until he felt her hands return back to his chest, pushing him off.
“No.” she breathed, pushing him farther away. Sylar laughed, dropping her leg in the process, “You don’t have much of a choice.” He said amused, brushing his hand up to slowly drag the zipper of her jacket down. Lowering his face to the crevice of her neck, he continued, sucking lightly on her skin. “Why don’t you use your ability against me…” he asked, his warm breath sending chills down her spine. He smiled when he heard her heartbeat quicken, dipping his hand beneath her shirt to slide up her stomach. “I could always take it away, if you wanted.” Emilie stood frozen, feeling his hand roam over her stomach, stopping just above her naval. Sylar pulled his body back, maneuvering himself to face her. “Do you want me to take it?” Emilie stared into the deep pools that were his eyes, taking a moment before responding…
“Yes.”
Chapter 4
Emilie closed her eyes, seeing his right hand lift up towards her forehead. The tight connection he had on her shoulder lessened and she opened her eyes, finding him looking at the front door. “What…” her voice trailing off as her body jumped, hearing a loud rap on the door. Sylar kept his eyes on the entryway, his hand withdrawing from her arm as his body moved back.
Another loud knock followed shortly after, a deep raspy voice sounding in the hallway, “New York City Police. We know you’re in there, Miss De Marco, please open the door.” Emilie stood frozen, her head looking towards Sylar, as if asking for his opinion. He didn’t seem to notice her gaze; his eyes continuously glued to the entry.
Again, the knock sounded, this time louder and more hurried. Emilie shot her eyes to the door, her head returning back to Sylar as he reached out his hand and grabbed her arm, pushing her towards the entrance. She walked cautiously to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
“Emilie De Marco?” the officer asked, finally viewing her at the entry. Emilie dropped her hand from the knob, replying, “Yes?” Her eyes drifted behind the officer, noticing two more standing at the wall, both of their hands on their holsters. The clink of metal sounded and she brought her eyes back on the main officer, seeing his hand extract a pair of handcuffs.
“You’re under arrest.” The man said, grabbing her hand and turning her around. She felt the binding of the metal around her wrists and rolled her eyes, hearing the officer recite the Miranda rights. The two officers that had been standing in the hallway moved forward, the younger one curling his hand around her elbow and guiding her back away from the door.
Emilie caught a glimpse of Sylar, his face shrouded in what little shadows available during the early afternoon. His eyes followed the officers, watching every move they made before finally resting on her. A coy smile crept on her face and her shoulders shrugged slightly before the officer tugged on her arm and she followed them down the hall.
She had cooperated for the most part, letting them guide her out of the apartment building and onto the street below, where a cop car was waiting for them. Taking a few steps onto the concrete, the main officer walked before them, rounding the front of the car while the second officer, walked up to the door, ready to open it. The young cop led her towards the car, releasing her arm as his partner opened the back door. Emilie took the opportunity, sending the back of her skull into the man’s face.
Spinning around, she saw the red flowing freely from his nose as he tried to regain his composure. Emilie smiled at the sight, forgetting about the second officer until her body was flung violently against the cop car.
The main officer jumped out of the car, running around the front as her body was pulled away from the window. Feeling the tight grasp on her arm, she noticed the lead officer’s name tag, her eyes lifting up to note his impatience with her behavior. Officer Bartone took a deep sigh, drawing his attention from the young cop who was frantically trying to stop the blood. “Congratulations Miss De Marco, you just received another blemish on that record of yours.” He said, nodding to the second officer as he turned to walk back to the driver’s seat.
Watching him walk away, the cop placed his hand on her head, shoving her into the car as he glared at her. The car door closed and she saw the young cop, with his hand plastered over his face, walk up and open the front door, taking a seat in the passengers section. Emilie rested her head back against the headrest, looking up through the window to see the sun shield itself in black.
----
Sylar observed the scene below, smiling when he saw her head connect with one of the officer’s nose. When she was forced into the car, he pulled away from the window, walking back into the living room. He stepped up towards the couch, picking up the laptop as he sat down on the cushions.
Opening up the computer, he examined the screen. His fingers clicked a key, a loud beep sounding as a pop up box appeared. Sylar’s eyes scanned the message, noticing the blank rectangle needing a password.
He slammed the laptop shut, clenching his jaw as he flung it towards the wall. “Fuck!” he yelled, watching the laptop slam into the brick partition. Pushing himself up from the couch, he stormed out of the building, walking out into the street to head towards the police station. He never thought he would be doing what he was doing now.
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The man’s hand was clamped tightly around her upper arm, dragging her through the narrow hallway. Whistles and dog howls echoed around her as they continued down the corridor until the officer stopped short. He turned towards her, releasing her arm but grabbing at her wrists, both rising up due to the cuffs wrapped around them. Digging around in his pocket, he extracted his keys, unlocking the restraints as he once again grabbed her arm and threw her into the cell, quickly closing the gate behind her. “Get used to it.”
Emilie took a glance down at the ground and then lifted her eyes back up in the officer’s direction, responding back, “How’s your nose?” The young officer, glared at her through swollen features, the bridge of his nose starting to turn purple. He slammed his open palm against the bars, gritting his teeth in disgust, “You want to play games?” he asked, glaring at her, “Fine. We can always add more years to your sentence.” He watched her roll her eyes, standing defiantly on the other side before he turned to walk down the hallway.
A metallic sound echoed and Emilie walked through the cell, collapsing on the small cot in the corner. She turned onto her back, her eyes observing the dingy ceiling. An hour passed and she counted her thousandth tile before a sound jerked her from her task. Turning her head, she saw Officer Bartone standing at the cell.
“What do you want?” she said uninterested, her eyes returning back to the ceiling. He cleared his throat, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. “Get up, you’re coming with me.” Emilie raised an eyebrow, lifting her back from the cot to push herself up. She walked up to the cell door, lifting her arms up and resting her wrists together in front of him.
He looked down at her, responding to her action, “I’m hoping I don’t have to use handcuffs.” Emilie smiled and shrugged, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she followed the three officers through the hallway.
She walked alongside the officers, continuously glancing to her right at the one she had injured. He kept his eyes forward, his muscles visibly tense as they reached the main offices. Officer Bartone turned to face Emilie, stopping in front of a large door. His hand rested on the knob and he turned it, stepping out of the way to reveal a room.
Emilie stepped forward, stopping shortly to turn towards the young cop, “Ice helps.” She said, walking into the room as the officer made a sharp movement forward, his action causing another officer to hold him back.
Taking a seat, Emilie looked at her surroundings. Mirrored glass surrounding the walls and the table was placed directly in the center. Her eyes lifted when the door opened and two people walked in, a man and a woman. They both took a seat across the table from her and Emilie was able to make a more accurate analysis of their features. The woman was small, with short blonde hair and a deadlocked demeanor, while the man was a bit on the heavier side, staring intently at her as if he was trying to bore into her skull.
“Emilie De Marco?” the woman asked, her voice keeping its serious tone. Emilie brought her eyes up to the woman, after smiling at the man. “Yes?”
The blonde stood by the edge of the table, a pile of folders tucked in her arms. “My name is Agent Audrey Hansen and this Officer Matt Parkman.” Emilie muffled a laugh, turning her head to acknowledge the man’s presence. The woman placed the folders on the table, taking a seat next to the man. “We have a few questions for you.” She said, opening a folder to place on the tabletop.
“Do you recognize these people?” the blonde asked, setting an array of pictures across the table. Emilie’s eyes stared at the woman, drifting them downward shortly to glimpse at the pictures. “No.” she said, lifting her gaze back up. Agent Hanson frowned, dropping her hand to pick up a second folder, this time spreading out numerous depictions of gruesome images. “How about now?” she inquired, her gaze deadlocked on Emilie’s face.
Glancing down at the pictures, she surveyed the faces, smiling to herself before lifting her eyes back up. “What do you think?” her eyes looking at the woman, drifting towards Parkman, as her eyebrow raised.
She saw the man fidget in his seat, looking down at the tile before collecting his thoughts and returning his concentration on her. Emilie sat back in the chair, relishing the absence of restraints. She could tell that the agent was getting impatient so she leaned over the table, finally giving a straight answer, “Yes,” she paused, “I killed them. But…” she trailed off, pushing two images forward on the table. “I didn’t kill these two.”
Agent Hanson pursed her lips, looking down at the two victims identified before replying, “Your DNA is all over their crime scenes.” Moving forward in her seat, Emilie responded hastily, “I never said I didn’t know them.” The blonde slammed her hand down, her voice rising in volume, “Then who killed them!?”
Emilie pushed herself up from the chair, her hands gripping the edge of the table, “Who do you think!” she yelled, her cold gaze fixated on the woman’s face. The screech from a chair echoed in the room and both women looked over just as Officer Parkman left the room. Audrey looked back at Emilie, seeing a sadistic grin planted on her face. “He got the clue.” She said, as the FBI agent followed after her partner, leaving her alone in the small room.
Chapter 5
Falling back into the chair, she sighed and looked up at the ceiling. She knew she was still being watched, that familiar feeling creeping through her body as she closed her eyes. Although it was faint, her ears perked at the sound of a disturbance in the hallway and she lifted her head back up to stare at the door. A few minutes passed with silence, her ears straining for any sort of noise when three short and muffled bangs sounded behind the glass. She narrowed her eyes just as the door flung open, Sylar standing in the hall. “Let’s go.” He said; his gaze fixed on her in an almost possessive manner.
Emilie turned her head, her eyes looking at the table and its contents, “No thanks.” She heard the shuffle of his feet as he moved into the room, a low growl echoing as his deep voice responded, “You want to stay here?” She picked up a picture of one of the victims she had identified, a man in his late 20’s; a man she used to go out with. “I’ll take my chances.” She answered, keeping her gaze on the image.
“I won’t.” Sylar’s voice sounded and he grasped her arm, but she wrenched it back. Pushing herself up from the chair, Emilie faced Sylar, turning the picture so it was in his view, “You killed him, didn’t you?”
He gave her an annoyed look, finally dropping his eyes to look at the picture. Examining the image, he recognized the man immediately; the only individual he killed who didn’t actually have an ability. A miscommunication that he vowed would never happen again. “Maybe.” He replied, lifting his gaze to her face. Emilie gave a disgusted look, her hands dropping to her sides as she processed his cryptic response.
Although she had tried to keep it at bay, the anger she felt began to build up and she turned her body quickly, snatching the metal chair with the intent on slamming it into Sylar’s torso. It made a clean contact and the impact sent him into the ground, his arms moving frantically to push himself up. Emilie walked up to his body, throwing the chair down as it made a loud crash upon hitting the tile. She brought her leg back, another premeditative strike to his body, but Sylar snapped out his hand.
His arm pulled back and she lost her footing, her body falling to the cold ground. Lying on her back, her mind finally caught up with her body; her eyes diverting to glance at Sylar. He had already propped himself up, crawling over her so he was inches from her face. “You’re quite testy, aren’t you?” He asked, his lips curling into a sneer.
Emilie growled, swiftly bringing her knee up as it made a hard contact with his jaw. Scrambling backwards, she pushed herself up and turned, running towards the open door. Her foot stepped into the door frame and she heard a loud creaking noise, the door slamming shut.
Jumping back just in time, she stood frozen at the doorway, her nose centimeters from the metal door. The sudden jolt of adrenaline caused her heartbeat to increase and she turned around to see Sylar standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched. Dropping his hand, Emilie noticed his expression. It was one of irritation and displeasure as he brought his other hand up to dab the blood that had formed on his lower lip.
Giving him an irate glare, she turned back to the door, grasping the handle. Jerking it upwards, the door kept glued shut, her efforts lacking even a budge. She slammed her open palm against the metal, her frustration and anger building up, as she flipped around, her neck throwing her head back to bang against the door.
Sylar pulled his hand away and observed the red stains drying on his skin, raising his eyes to notice the hurt hidden on Emilie’s face.
“You were the girlfriend, weren’t you?” he asked dryly, seeing Emilie’s eyes open to stare at him. Her silent response was enough to answer his question and he sent his fist into the wall, pushing himself away to pace around the room. His anger lessened and he looked back over at her, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly as he replied, “Well, you’re still a target.”
His words caused her to cock her head to the side, her palms lying flat against the metal as if anticipating an attack. She was right as he made his way closer to her, lifting his hand slightly to twitch as she felt the pull on her body appear. Grasping the handle of the door, the force of his ability caused strain on her muscles and she bit her lip, muffling a pained cry.
Sylar took a deep sigh; he didn’t appreciate her fight against him, it just made things more drawn out and trivial. He saw her grip weaken on the door handle, flicking his hand again as she moved closer and he got a hold of her.
Throwing her onto the table, he leaned over her body, his arm putting pressure on her ribcage. He dug his elbow in between the bones and she gasped loudly, grimace showing in her features. Sylar smirked, keeping the pressure tight on her ribs.
“I was curious though,” he said, pausing to pull back his elbow, “What was on that laptop?” Emilie stared up at him, making a sudden movement of her leg, but Sylar caught on, ramming his elbow back into her ribs. Her scream sounded metallic as it rang through the small room, water beginning to well up in her eyes. She bit back the pain, opening her eyes upon hearing the faint tsking that escaped his lips.
Emilie coughed, taking in short breaths as he pulled his arm back. Placing his hands on the table, his eyes narrowed down at her face. She looked into his eyes; the dark hollow holes that looked back at her gave her an eerie feeling like she was being examined on a coroner’s table. Taking a light sigh, she responded to his question, “A list.” She could feel the satisfaction cut through the tension that was mounting in the room and she diverted her gaze away from his face.
Sylar smiled and straightened up, his action letting the girl push herself up to sit on the edge of the table. He moved a few steps back, lifting his right hand slightly to flick it as the door unlatched and opened.
He took a prolonged glance at Emilie, her hand placed against her chest and her gaze pointed downward towards the tiles; before turning to walk to the door. His body hadn’t even moved a few inches before two officers stormed into the room, their guns raised. Sylar spent no time idling, sending the first cop flying into the wall as his body crumpled to the ground. Gunshots rang through the room and Emilie lifted her gaze just as the bullets reversed themselves in midair, slamming into the second officer’s chest.
She looked over at Sylar, her expression vacant and cold as he walked briskly up to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the table. He tugged roughly on her arm, dragging her down the hallway and through the havoc of his work. Pacing through the corridor, she diverted her gaze down towards the officers; some lying in pools of blood or moving slightly, their broken bones unwilling to give them motion.
As soon as they exited the station, Emilie pulled her arm from his grasp, lifting it up to brush off her jacket. “Thanks.” She responded, giving him a small smile before turning to walk down the street. Sylar wasn’t about to let her leave; snapping out his hand to grab the hood of her coat. The tension from the latch he had on her, caused her to turn around and he pulled her closer to him, their faces in close proximity. They stood in that position for what seemed like hours, both of their eyes locked in an impenetrable stare.
Emilie was the first to speak, her voice gentle in contrast with the noises of New York City, “You’re making a scene.” The odd display that was going on in front of the police station; in which a more dire crime had been committed; had caught the attention of some onlookers. Their eyes directed on the two and their whispers filling Sylar’s head to the point of madness.
He tore his eyes away to glance around at the crowd, dropping her jacket from his grasp as she moved backward. The cluster of witnesses dispersed and soon Emilie was lost from his view, her body turning to disappear into the city.