Heroes fic: Dogs and Cats Living Together
Title: Dogs and Cats Living Together
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Possession, violence.
Summary: When Sylar returns to New York, the city is a bit more spirited than he left it.
A/N: Halloween fic! And a blatant rip-off of one of the best movies ever, with some tweaks. Takes place after the end of Season 2.
Sylar was not having a good week.
It started out great, at least, with the syringe he'd stolen from Mohinder restoring his powers. He expected his life to only get better when he headed straight to the California address in Claire Bennet's file, eager to bring that remarkable feeling of vitality to permanence. But by the time he got to Costa Verde, the Bennets must have been warned of his presence-- six Company agents greeted him in the abandoned house.
But with rapid cellular regeneration out of his reach again, the Company was next on his list of things to maim anyway.
While roaming the country and destroying their facilities had a certain panache, it lacked the sophistication Sylar knew he was capable of. He could topple the Company utterly; he just needed to make a plan, and for that it would be ideal to have an inside man. The good Doctor Suresh came to mind, his dark eyes wide with shock even for Sylar as they discovered the Company had purposely injected the killer with the Shanti virus. There was potential for a tentative alliance there, and so Sylar headed back to New York.
He heard things on the way, in diner discussions, TV broadcasts in bus stations, and awkward attempts at small talk while hitchhiking. Something bizarre was going on in the city. He didn't think much of it, given that many outsiders thought New York was a strange, lost place. Once he arrived, he wished he'd paid more attention, because he found a city infested with fucking ghosts. Cackling, moaning ghouls pursued screaming men, women, and children in the streets and in and out of buildings. A few people tried to fight back only to find themselves covered with some disgusting slime. And sometimes there weren't necessarily ghosts, such as when Sylar spotted a couple speeding through Times Square on a motorcycle with a passengerless bike in quick pursuit.
The sights and sounds were amusing until Sylar encountered a hulking, leathery dog-like creature with long horns on a side street. Apparently the thing took a liking to him right away, since when Sylar's telekinesis inexplicably failed to do the beast any harm, it chased after him through busy streets while never giving the other locals a second glance. Sylar managed to escape via a perfectly-timed subway train, and he decided to continue on to Mohinder's loft laboratory. With all this weird shit going down, the Company would definitely want to investigate any possible involvement of specials. They probably had their new favorite employee hard at work.
Instead of breaking in, Sylar knocked on the door just to see Mohinder jolt at the sight of his unexpected visitor. He waited a little anxiously, watching and listening for the supernatural happenings of the city to seep into the building, but nothing seemed off until Mohinder opened the door.
Sylar smirked right away at Mohinder's hooded eyes. The scientist was probably exhausted from toiling under the Company's close watch. He even wore a loose orange kurta instead of his usual button-up shirt in a clear effort to stay comfortable during long hours. But then Sylar realized the kurta, tattered around Mohinder's arms and thighs, was all the pretty man wore as he stretched against the doorframe.
Sylar's first words should have been cocky and dismissive. When he opened his mouth, he croaked, "Doesn't that usually come with pants?"
Mohinder didn't seem to hear anyway, his sultry eyes drifting up and down Sylar's body. Mohinder took a step forward, running his hands up Sylar's chest, and rose a little on his toes. Sylar tried to swallow away the tightness in his throat as Mohinder's mouth came within millimeters of his own, their noses brushing.
"Are you the Key Master?" Mohinder purred as one of his thighs pressed between Sylar's legs.
Mohinder's soft breath stole Sylar's words as they formed, leaving him only with every dirty thought he'd ever had about the other man swirling in his head. "The... the what?" he finally managed, lifting a hand to stroke Mohinder's face.
With a disappointed huff, Mohinder drew back and padded on bare feet back into the loft. Now standing alone just outside the door, Sylar felt cold and dizzy and maybe just a little embarrassed. Note to self: if Mohinder asks if you are the master of anything, you say yes! He took a deep breath to collect himself and went inside.
Sylar looked around with elevated eyebrows. The loft had been cleared of blood and broken glass since the last time he was there, and it still had all the equipment (maybe even more), but now it was all covered with the strange, translucent goo he'd seen splattered on various New Yorkers. He flinched as it dripped into his hair from the rafters and did his best to wipe it off, cleaning his hand on his shirt. The slime felt cold and unpleasant.
Whatever was not right with the city had taken a particular interest in Mohinder's lab, and clearly in Mohinder. Of course, Sylar found it hard maintain concern while watching Mohinder practically drift down the stairs with that ruined shirt just barely covering his ass.
Sylar followed him down to the lower level of the lab. "So, uh, what's going on out there?" he probed.
Mohinder looked down at the painting that engulfed the floor, cocking his head as if evaluating something less momentous than the destruction of a metropolis. "They are preparing for the coming of Gozer," he said idly, as if that explained everything.
"And how did they get here?" Sylar asked. "I can't say I had a problem with spirits taking up subway seats last time I was home."
"There are many doors," Mohinder said.
"Oh. Okay then," Sylar muttered, rolling his eyes. "So are these spirits any better at articulation?"
Mohinder didn't react. He wandered off to watch information scroll up on a nearby set of computer screens, though Sylar was mostly sure Mohinder was just attracted to the colors and light. On a cluttered desk opposite the computers, a phone's message light blinked rapidly. Sylar picked up a daily planner laying beside a mug of cold tea and smirked when he found the passcode scribbled in the back. Voicemail had only one new message from that morning. Peter Petrelli talked loudly over some sort of chaos in the background.
"Uh, hey, Mohinder? We found some interesting information here at the-- Matt! Don't antagonize it! Um, at the library. Leave that cooler alone and just get out of the lab. We need to check out this other address, but meet us at my mom's at noon, alright? I'll-- WHOA! .... I'll fill you in when I see you, but just get out of the loft right-- Look out!"
It cut off there. Sylar looked around the lab and found an empty cooler for vials set up in the back. It had been dragged away from the wall and put under the attention of three different video cameras on tripods. A stool lay on top of the broken glass at the cabinet's base, and long black marks streaked across the floor as if the stool had been dragged. Sylar picked a camera and used its flip screen to play back what it had recorded, but he could only watch about a minute of footage. A normal Mohinder peered in the camera at the beginning and it looked like the cooler trembled at the end. Static took over after that.
Sylar turned and nearly screamed. Mohinder had managed to sneak up on him and sat atop a filing cabinet.
"Have you come to pay homage?" Mohinder asked.
"What happened with this?" Sylar asked, gesturing to the cooler.
"There are many doors," Mohinder replied with a shrug. He hopped onto the ground and drifted away again.
"What the hell does that mean?" Sylar growled. He grabbed Mohinder by the wrists and forced him back against a table. Sylar drew himself up to his full height to loom over the shorter man. "I don't know what's going on here," he snapped, "but don't ignore me!" He used his telekinesis to fling an expensive-looking (but slimed) microscope across the loft, shattering a window.
Mohinder's expression, his eyes wide and lips parted as if to protest, satisfied Sylar's anger. He grinned ferally, happy to finally have the upper hand in this bizarre conversation. But then Mohinder moaned, and while he half-heartedly tried to pull his hands away, he pushed the rest of his body up against Sylar's. Sylar found himself nothing but flustered again, and tried to speak, only for Mohinder to crane his neck and kiss him. Sylar turned his head away only out of surprise, but Mohinder's lips moved to his jaw and downward.
"Take me, subcreature," Mohinder growled, his mouth working insistently at Sylar's throat.
Subcreature?! Where the hell did Mohinder get off-- doing that with his tongue? Sylar groaned and let go of Mohinder's wrists to grab his ass and lift him onto the table. Mohinder's bare legs immediately wound around him, and Sylar thought this must be some sort of wet dream, that he was asleep on the bus coming into the city. It was too good to be true; Mohinder's hardness rubbing against his groin, Mohinder's hands clawing greedily at his back, Mohinder's teeth nipping at his mouth.
Mohinder broke away and Sylar paid his own reverence to Mohinder's throat, intent on leaving marks down to his shoulders. But after a few moments he noticed Mohinder's hold had loosened, and when he lifted his head, Mohinder was staring over his shoulder with a pleased smile. Sylar twisted around, and the goddamn gargoyle stood just outside the loft door, its breath fogging up the glass.
"It is you," Mohinder murmured, and the creature crashed through the glass and wood, hurling over the stairs and landing in the middle of the floor mural. It leaped toward them again with a wild snarl and Sylar reeled back, yanking Mohinder with him. The beast hit the table, crushing it to pieces, and turned on the debris to face them. It rumbled low in its throat, the lights glinting off its red eyes-- but oblivious to the danger, Mohinder pulled away from Sylar to kneel on the floor. The thing thudded closer, suddenly sedate, and Mohinder reached out to pet it, running his hand over the leathery flesh between its horns.
"Do you know this thing?" Sylar exclaimed.
Mohinder nodded, scratching under its chin. "And it knows you."
Sylar didn't know what the hell that meant, but the creature seemed content with Mohinder's attention. Maybe it wasn't so vicious after all? He took a hesitant step forward. "This thing has been trying to eat me alive since I got back into the city."
"It wants to consume you," Mohinder said idly.
"That's what I--" The beast suddenly lunged forward, latching its teeth into Sylar's leg. He cursed and again tried to fling it off with telekinesis, but the beast remained unaffected, throwing its head roughly. Sylar fell off balance, hitting the floor hard, cracking his head on the concrete. Bright colors flashed behind his eyes as he felt the thing climb on top of him and blow sour breath into his face. It roared, the sound so loud that it felt like his body blew apart.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The world came back calm and still. Light, steady breathing matched his own, and he felt a warm presence at his side. He opened his eyes despite the bright lights above. He slowly curled his fingers; it felt like he hadn't moved for centuries. But then, a part of him hadn't, this strange flowing energy within him. He felt crowded in his own body, ready to burst, but not unpleasantly so, because if he did explode it would be in a rage of power drawn from the beyond to rend this world to dust.
A second history melded to his memory, and he knew he was more than he had been. He had been a miserable lonely watchmaker who unlocked amazing potential, and now he was also a devoted worshipper, dedicated to bringing his master into this world. He could see that other place, the blazing temple, when he closed his eyes, so much brighter than the glaring lamps that burned his pupils when he opened his eyes again. They put out an inferior light, and he wished to close his eyes forever until Mohinder (Zuul) leaned over him, the sleek black tendrils of his hair teasing Sylar's cheeks. Face to face, Sylar could see so clearly now the bronze glow of Mohinder's skin and the depth of his eyes, leading into the dark eternity of the beyond. He too had become something greater, a personification of the match Sylar had thought he'd seen clearly until now.
Now he truly felt destiny thrumming through between them, inevitable and wonderful. It appealed to the new and old parts of him.
"Welcome, Keymaster," Mohinder purred.
Sylar pulled Mohinder's face down, nuzzling his cheek. "Gatekeeper," he murmured and kissed him.
Mohinder let out a delighted chuckle and settled on top of Sylar. They exchanged more kisses and rubbed against one another pleasantly. "The Sign has passed," Mohinder said when they parted for breath. "It's time to open The Way."
Sylar understood immediately. The Deveaux Building. He had seen it when he returned to the city, how the black clouds swirled around its peak and had thought nothing of it considering the general state of the city. Now he knew better. He and Mohinder would go there together, to the roof, and consummate their connection. They would become one and rise together, releasing the energy for--
"Oh, shit."
Sylar sat up at the sound of company, Mohinder still in his lap. Two men and one woman stood in the ruined doorway. It took Sylar a moment to remember their names. The blonde woman, blue eyes sparking like the energy in her hands, was Elle Bishop. The taller, bulky man was Matt Parkman, who Sylar could feel trying to enter his head. The other younger man, who had spoken, was Peter Petrelli.
"Mohinder," Peter said warily, "stay calm. We're going to get you out of here."
Yes, Sylar remembered. He did not like Peter Petrelli. He used that anger to steel his mind against the telepath. He held Mohinder tighter and growled. Mohinder's arms wound around his neck.
"I don't think Mo is in Kansas anymore," Elle said.
"We're too late," Matt said. "What the hell do we do now?"
"In a second you can just grab him," Elle replied.
She flung out her hand and as Sylar was thrown back it felt like he was on fire. He stopped himself with telekinesis before his vibrating body hit the wall and landed on his feet. He knew the electricity should have taken longer to shake off, but at once it was no surprise to feel it dissipate quickly within him, making him feel stronger. The blonde looked surprised and backed up as Parkman dragged Mohinder back towards the door. Mohinder screamed and twisted in the man's grip, and Sylar raised his hand to murder the fool.
Peter barreled into him with the force of flight, and they crashed through a window at the back corner of the room. They tumbled into the hall around the perimeter of the loft, rolling over shards of glass, smearing blood over the concrete. They stopped with Peter straddling Sylar, forcing his upper half down by the collar. Peter's face healed, slivers and chunks of glass slipping from his skin.
Sylar felt remote surprise when he felt his own cuts closing, but the feeling quickly faded. Of course he could heal; it was the will of the Destructor.
"What the hell?" Peter breathed as he watched.
Sylar threw him off, and Peter used flight to stop himself from hurtling through another window and down to the city sidewalk. He settled on his feet and shouted, "You couldn't have gotten her. They were gone!"
Sylar had a vague idea he knew what Peter was talking about, but it was unimportant. Mohinder screamed again, and with a great crash all the remaining glass surrounding the loft exploded.
"Jesus Christ!" Peter shouted, covering his head.
Sylar left him there and tore down the hall, swooping around the corner. Elle and Parkman had Mohinder by the door, Mohinder's head clamped between Parkman's hands. Parkman stared into his eyes, and Sylar watched Mohinder slump down, almost hitting the floor before Elle grabbed him. Parkman stumbled back into the wall, clutching his head.
"We gotta go," Elle said quickly, spying Sylar stalking toward them.
Parkman shook his head clear, but seemed uneasy on his feet as he stooped to put Mohinder over his shoulder.
"Run!" Elle screeched, pulling him along. "And keep his ass covered, will you?!"
Sylar lashed out his telekinesis again, but a glass-covered table flew through a broken window toward him. Sylar flung it away and spun around to face Peter again.
Peter held out both his hands as if calming a dog. "Sylar, listen to me. This isn't you." He took a step back. "Uh, not that the actual you is any--"
Sylar wrapped a telekinetic hand around Peter's throat and squeezed. "You and your friends will die painfully. He walks with me."
"No, you just..." Peter gasped, grabbing at his throat. "You just think... think that..." He threw out one hand, unleashing a flash of electricity. Sylar ducked out of the way of the zap and used his free hand to force Peter's hands to his sides, palms against his jeans. Let him fry his own body. "It's... your old shop..." Peter rasped. "And this loft! We... f-found old blueprints..." He faltered as Sylar applied more pressure, but forced himself on. "A c-cult..." he managed to choke out. "Sy...lar... you're not gonna... let this con... control..."
Definitely boring now. Sylar knew all this (had always known) and didn't much see a problem. The only potential problem was that this man and his friends intended to stop Gozer's coming. And yet Peter was helpless, clearly having trouble using his abilities when he could hardly breathe, so it was much easier to smash him into the wall now, several times. Peter didn't get up after he hit the floor, and Sylar sneered. Pathetic. Not even worth killing.
Getting Mohinder back before the doors closed was more important anyway, although Sylar was not worried about the time. Peter's friends would run and hide, of course, and think they had time for plans, but Mohinder's blood flowed in Sylar's veins. He needed only to follow the beat of his heart.
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Mylar
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Possession, violence.
Summary: When Sylar returns to New York, the city is a bit more spirited than he left it.
A/N: Halloween fic! And a blatant rip-off of one of the best movies ever, with some tweaks. Takes place after the end of Season 2.
Sylar was not having a good week.
It started out great, at least, with the syringe he'd stolen from Mohinder restoring his powers. He expected his life to only get better when he headed straight to the California address in Claire Bennet's file, eager to bring that remarkable feeling of vitality to permanence. But by the time he got to Costa Verde, the Bennets must have been warned of his presence-- six Company agents greeted him in the abandoned house.
But with rapid cellular regeneration out of his reach again, the Company was next on his list of things to maim anyway.
While roaming the country and destroying their facilities had a certain panache, it lacked the sophistication Sylar knew he was capable of. He could topple the Company utterly; he just needed to make a plan, and for that it would be ideal to have an inside man. The good Doctor Suresh came to mind, his dark eyes wide with shock even for Sylar as they discovered the Company had purposely injected the killer with the Shanti virus. There was potential for a tentative alliance there, and so Sylar headed back to New York.
He heard things on the way, in diner discussions, TV broadcasts in bus stations, and awkward attempts at small talk while hitchhiking. Something bizarre was going on in the city. He didn't think much of it, given that many outsiders thought New York was a strange, lost place. Once he arrived, he wished he'd paid more attention, because he found a city infested with fucking ghosts. Cackling, moaning ghouls pursued screaming men, women, and children in the streets and in and out of buildings. A few people tried to fight back only to find themselves covered with some disgusting slime. And sometimes there weren't necessarily ghosts, such as when Sylar spotted a couple speeding through Times Square on a motorcycle with a passengerless bike in quick pursuit.
The sights and sounds were amusing until Sylar encountered a hulking, leathery dog-like creature with long horns on a side street. Apparently the thing took a liking to him right away, since when Sylar's telekinesis inexplicably failed to do the beast any harm, it chased after him through busy streets while never giving the other locals a second glance. Sylar managed to escape via a perfectly-timed subway train, and he decided to continue on to Mohinder's loft laboratory. With all this weird shit going down, the Company would definitely want to investigate any possible involvement of specials. They probably had their new favorite employee hard at work.
Instead of breaking in, Sylar knocked on the door just to see Mohinder jolt at the sight of his unexpected visitor. He waited a little anxiously, watching and listening for the supernatural happenings of the city to seep into the building, but nothing seemed off until Mohinder opened the door.
Sylar smirked right away at Mohinder's hooded eyes. The scientist was probably exhausted from toiling under the Company's close watch. He even wore a loose orange kurta instead of his usual button-up shirt in a clear effort to stay comfortable during long hours. But then Sylar realized the kurta, tattered around Mohinder's arms and thighs, was all the pretty man wore as he stretched against the doorframe.
Sylar's first words should have been cocky and dismissive. When he opened his mouth, he croaked, "Doesn't that usually come with pants?"
Mohinder didn't seem to hear anyway, his sultry eyes drifting up and down Sylar's body. Mohinder took a step forward, running his hands up Sylar's chest, and rose a little on his toes. Sylar tried to swallow away the tightness in his throat as Mohinder's mouth came within millimeters of his own, their noses brushing.
"Are you the Key Master?" Mohinder purred as one of his thighs pressed between Sylar's legs.
Mohinder's soft breath stole Sylar's words as they formed, leaving him only with every dirty thought he'd ever had about the other man swirling in his head. "The... the what?" he finally managed, lifting a hand to stroke Mohinder's face.
With a disappointed huff, Mohinder drew back and padded on bare feet back into the loft. Now standing alone just outside the door, Sylar felt cold and dizzy and maybe just a little embarrassed. Note to self: if Mohinder asks if you are the master of anything, you say yes! He took a deep breath to collect himself and went inside.
Sylar looked around with elevated eyebrows. The loft had been cleared of blood and broken glass since the last time he was there, and it still had all the equipment (maybe even more), but now it was all covered with the strange, translucent goo he'd seen splattered on various New Yorkers. He flinched as it dripped into his hair from the rafters and did his best to wipe it off, cleaning his hand on his shirt. The slime felt cold and unpleasant.
Whatever was not right with the city had taken a particular interest in Mohinder's lab, and clearly in Mohinder. Of course, Sylar found it hard maintain concern while watching Mohinder practically drift down the stairs with that ruined shirt just barely covering his ass.
Sylar followed him down to the lower level of the lab. "So, uh, what's going on out there?" he probed.
Mohinder looked down at the painting that engulfed the floor, cocking his head as if evaluating something less momentous than the destruction of a metropolis. "They are preparing for the coming of Gozer," he said idly, as if that explained everything.
"And how did they get here?" Sylar asked. "I can't say I had a problem with spirits taking up subway seats last time I was home."
"There are many doors," Mohinder said.
"Oh. Okay then," Sylar muttered, rolling his eyes. "So are these spirits any better at articulation?"
Mohinder didn't react. He wandered off to watch information scroll up on a nearby set of computer screens, though Sylar was mostly sure Mohinder was just attracted to the colors and light. On a cluttered desk opposite the computers, a phone's message light blinked rapidly. Sylar picked up a daily planner laying beside a mug of cold tea and smirked when he found the passcode scribbled in the back. Voicemail had only one new message from that morning. Peter Petrelli talked loudly over some sort of chaos in the background.
"Uh, hey, Mohinder? We found some interesting information here at the-- Matt! Don't antagonize it! Um, at the library. Leave that cooler alone and just get out of the lab. We need to check out this other address, but meet us at my mom's at noon, alright? I'll-- WHOA! .... I'll fill you in when I see you, but just get out of the loft right-- Look out!"
It cut off there. Sylar looked around the lab and found an empty cooler for vials set up in the back. It had been dragged away from the wall and put under the attention of three different video cameras on tripods. A stool lay on top of the broken glass at the cabinet's base, and long black marks streaked across the floor as if the stool had been dragged. Sylar picked a camera and used its flip screen to play back what it had recorded, but he could only watch about a minute of footage. A normal Mohinder peered in the camera at the beginning and it looked like the cooler trembled at the end. Static took over after that.
Sylar turned and nearly screamed. Mohinder had managed to sneak up on him and sat atop a filing cabinet.
"Have you come to pay homage?" Mohinder asked.
"What happened with this?" Sylar asked, gesturing to the cooler.
"There are many doors," Mohinder replied with a shrug. He hopped onto the ground and drifted away again.
"What the hell does that mean?" Sylar growled. He grabbed Mohinder by the wrists and forced him back against a table. Sylar drew himself up to his full height to loom over the shorter man. "I don't know what's going on here," he snapped, "but don't ignore me!" He used his telekinesis to fling an expensive-looking (but slimed) microscope across the loft, shattering a window.
Mohinder's expression, his eyes wide and lips parted as if to protest, satisfied Sylar's anger. He grinned ferally, happy to finally have the upper hand in this bizarre conversation. But then Mohinder moaned, and while he half-heartedly tried to pull his hands away, he pushed the rest of his body up against Sylar's. Sylar found himself nothing but flustered again, and tried to speak, only for Mohinder to crane his neck and kiss him. Sylar turned his head away only out of surprise, but Mohinder's lips moved to his jaw and downward.
"Take me, subcreature," Mohinder growled, his mouth working insistently at Sylar's throat.
Subcreature?! Where the hell did Mohinder get off-- doing that with his tongue? Sylar groaned and let go of Mohinder's wrists to grab his ass and lift him onto the table. Mohinder's bare legs immediately wound around him, and Sylar thought this must be some sort of wet dream, that he was asleep on the bus coming into the city. It was too good to be true; Mohinder's hardness rubbing against his groin, Mohinder's hands clawing greedily at his back, Mohinder's teeth nipping at his mouth.
Mohinder broke away and Sylar paid his own reverence to Mohinder's throat, intent on leaving marks down to his shoulders. But after a few moments he noticed Mohinder's hold had loosened, and when he lifted his head, Mohinder was staring over his shoulder with a pleased smile. Sylar twisted around, and the goddamn gargoyle stood just outside the loft door, its breath fogging up the glass.
"It is you," Mohinder murmured, and the creature crashed through the glass and wood, hurling over the stairs and landing in the middle of the floor mural. It leaped toward them again with a wild snarl and Sylar reeled back, yanking Mohinder with him. The beast hit the table, crushing it to pieces, and turned on the debris to face them. It rumbled low in its throat, the lights glinting off its red eyes-- but oblivious to the danger, Mohinder pulled away from Sylar to kneel on the floor. The thing thudded closer, suddenly sedate, and Mohinder reached out to pet it, running his hand over the leathery flesh between its horns.
"Do you know this thing?" Sylar exclaimed.
Mohinder nodded, scratching under its chin. "And it knows you."
Sylar didn't know what the hell that meant, but the creature seemed content with Mohinder's attention. Maybe it wasn't so vicious after all? He took a hesitant step forward. "This thing has been trying to eat me alive since I got back into the city."
"It wants to consume you," Mohinder said idly.
"That's what I--" The beast suddenly lunged forward, latching its teeth into Sylar's leg. He cursed and again tried to fling it off with telekinesis, but the beast remained unaffected, throwing its head roughly. Sylar fell off balance, hitting the floor hard, cracking his head on the concrete. Bright colors flashed behind his eyes as he felt the thing climb on top of him and blow sour breath into his face. It roared, the sound so loud that it felt like his body blew apart.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The world came back calm and still. Light, steady breathing matched his own, and he felt a warm presence at his side. He opened his eyes despite the bright lights above. He slowly curled his fingers; it felt like he hadn't moved for centuries. But then, a part of him hadn't, this strange flowing energy within him. He felt crowded in his own body, ready to burst, but not unpleasantly so, because if he did explode it would be in a rage of power drawn from the beyond to rend this world to dust.
A second history melded to his memory, and he knew he was more than he had been. He had been a miserable lonely watchmaker who unlocked amazing potential, and now he was also a devoted worshipper, dedicated to bringing his master into this world. He could see that other place, the blazing temple, when he closed his eyes, so much brighter than the glaring lamps that burned his pupils when he opened his eyes again. They put out an inferior light, and he wished to close his eyes forever until Mohinder (Zuul) leaned over him, the sleek black tendrils of his hair teasing Sylar's cheeks. Face to face, Sylar could see so clearly now the bronze glow of Mohinder's skin and the depth of his eyes, leading into the dark eternity of the beyond. He too had become something greater, a personification of the match Sylar had thought he'd seen clearly until now.
Now he truly felt destiny thrumming through between them, inevitable and wonderful. It appealed to the new and old parts of him.
"Welcome, Keymaster," Mohinder purred.
Sylar pulled Mohinder's face down, nuzzling his cheek. "Gatekeeper," he murmured and kissed him.
Mohinder let out a delighted chuckle and settled on top of Sylar. They exchanged more kisses and rubbed against one another pleasantly. "The Sign has passed," Mohinder said when they parted for breath. "It's time to open The Way."
Sylar understood immediately. The Deveaux Building. He had seen it when he returned to the city, how the black clouds swirled around its peak and had thought nothing of it considering the general state of the city. Now he knew better. He and Mohinder would go there together, to the roof, and consummate their connection. They would become one and rise together, releasing the energy for--
"Oh, shit."
Sylar sat up at the sound of company, Mohinder still in his lap. Two men and one woman stood in the ruined doorway. It took Sylar a moment to remember their names. The blonde woman, blue eyes sparking like the energy in her hands, was Elle Bishop. The taller, bulky man was Matt Parkman, who Sylar could feel trying to enter his head. The other younger man, who had spoken, was Peter Petrelli.
"Mohinder," Peter said warily, "stay calm. We're going to get you out of here."
Yes, Sylar remembered. He did not like Peter Petrelli. He used that anger to steel his mind against the telepath. He held Mohinder tighter and growled. Mohinder's arms wound around his neck.
"I don't think Mo is in Kansas anymore," Elle said.
"We're too late," Matt said. "What the hell do we do now?"
"In a second you can just grab him," Elle replied.
She flung out her hand and as Sylar was thrown back it felt like he was on fire. He stopped himself with telekinesis before his vibrating body hit the wall and landed on his feet. He knew the electricity should have taken longer to shake off, but at once it was no surprise to feel it dissipate quickly within him, making him feel stronger. The blonde looked surprised and backed up as Parkman dragged Mohinder back towards the door. Mohinder screamed and twisted in the man's grip, and Sylar raised his hand to murder the fool.
Peter barreled into him with the force of flight, and they crashed through a window at the back corner of the room. They tumbled into the hall around the perimeter of the loft, rolling over shards of glass, smearing blood over the concrete. They stopped with Peter straddling Sylar, forcing his upper half down by the collar. Peter's face healed, slivers and chunks of glass slipping from his skin.
Sylar felt remote surprise when he felt his own cuts closing, but the feeling quickly faded. Of course he could heal; it was the will of the Destructor.
"What the hell?" Peter breathed as he watched.
Sylar threw him off, and Peter used flight to stop himself from hurtling through another window and down to the city sidewalk. He settled on his feet and shouted, "You couldn't have gotten her. They were gone!"
Sylar had a vague idea he knew what Peter was talking about, but it was unimportant. Mohinder screamed again, and with a great crash all the remaining glass surrounding the loft exploded.
"Jesus Christ!" Peter shouted, covering his head.
Sylar left him there and tore down the hall, swooping around the corner. Elle and Parkman had Mohinder by the door, Mohinder's head clamped between Parkman's hands. Parkman stared into his eyes, and Sylar watched Mohinder slump down, almost hitting the floor before Elle grabbed him. Parkman stumbled back into the wall, clutching his head.
"We gotta go," Elle said quickly, spying Sylar stalking toward them.
Parkman shook his head clear, but seemed uneasy on his feet as he stooped to put Mohinder over his shoulder.
"Run!" Elle screeched, pulling him along. "And keep his ass covered, will you?!"
Sylar lashed out his telekinesis again, but a glass-covered table flew through a broken window toward him. Sylar flung it away and spun around to face Peter again.
Peter held out both his hands as if calming a dog. "Sylar, listen to me. This isn't you." He took a step back. "Uh, not that the actual you is any--"
Sylar wrapped a telekinetic hand around Peter's throat and squeezed. "You and your friends will die painfully. He walks with me."
"No, you just..." Peter gasped, grabbing at his throat. "You just think... think that..." He threw out one hand, unleashing a flash of electricity. Sylar ducked out of the way of the zap and used his free hand to force Peter's hands to his sides, palms against his jeans. Let him fry his own body. "It's... your old shop..." Peter rasped. "And this loft! We... f-found old blueprints..." He faltered as Sylar applied more pressure, but forced himself on. "A c-cult..." he managed to choke out. "Sy...lar... you're not gonna... let this con... control..."
Definitely boring now. Sylar knew all this (had always known) and didn't much see a problem. The only potential problem was that this man and his friends intended to stop Gozer's coming. And yet Peter was helpless, clearly having trouble using his abilities when he could hardly breathe, so it was much easier to smash him into the wall now, several times. Peter didn't get up after he hit the floor, and Sylar sneered. Pathetic. Not even worth killing.
Getting Mohinder back before the doors closed was more important anyway, although Sylar was not worried about the time. Peter's friends would run and hide, of course, and think they had time for plans, but Mohinder's blood flowed in Sylar's veins. He needed only to follow the beat of his heart.