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witnessof_fateIt had been too easy getting in.
They'd seen him coming a mile away--literally, or so he thought, certain that there had been cameras on the roads that had lead here, even if he hadn't seen them--and so they'd been ready. They'd started conventional, with guns and tasers, trying to subdue him before he'd managed to even get halfway out of the car. When that hadn't worked, each death only serving to annoy him more and more, each round they fired hitting home less and less as his ire rose, they'd retreated. They'd tried tranq darts next, dosed with enough drugs to kill an elephant. Then they'd tried playing upon the weakness they'd found in his abilities--he couldn't use his electricity if they hosed him down, which they had. Then they were dead, a mass of bodies at his feet, and he was inside Nathan's stronghold. Building 26.
It didn't sound easy, and he was already sore and exhausted from all the healing he'd had to do and power he had to display, but it was easier than getting out would be, he knew. He'd find what he came here looking for, but hell if Nathan or his Hunter would let him leave with it without another fight. A better fight. They thought they were building a better mousetrap in letting him get lost in the silent halls of the Building, and he wasn't sure that they weren't right. This was a gamble and he knew it, but it was something that had to be risk because his father was here--his real father--and he would see him dead, for what he'd done to him and his mother, in his childhood.
That in mind, Sylar moved down the halls of the building silently, looking for further clues to where, exactly, his father was, here. He found what he was looking for a few minutes later--a computer in a room that had clearly been recently and hastily abandoned--and he couldn't help but think set-up again. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered but his father now, and still mute, he sat down at the terminal, flashing a quick, sick grin at the camera that watched him from the wall opposite where he was sitting, before setting to work.
Nothing mattered but his father, until he saw the name of an old friend, listed among the captured. Mohinder Suresh. Now there was a can of worms if he ever saw one, his opinions on the geneticist mixed.
On one hand, he couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Had they drugged Suresh, like the Indian had done to him, an age ago? Was he duct taped to a chair somewhere, a gun pressed to his head as someone threatened revenge for all the evil he'd done, while he'd been sick in body and mind in his quest for power? Could he stop the bullet, if they decided to shoot? Would he? And if he happened to stumble upon Suresh's cell, while looking for his father, would he really care if he found a corpse rather than the other man himself? He wasn't so sure.
On the other hand, however, sitting there, staring at his name on that list, he felt compelled to go and spring him from his prison. Not that he held any illusions that Suresh would do the same for him--he'd probably be helping to put him away, if he thought it would save his own skin--but he hated to see the geneticist there. He hated seeing something that could be his--Mohinder's ability, not him, not anymore--sitting just out of reach, locked up here. And beyond that, he knew what it was to be locked up and tortured, the latter of which he was sure Nathan's little team was doing in an attempt to get rid of those with abilities, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even his worst enemy. Not even Suresh.
Sylar scowled at the screen for a moment, before scrolling past Mohinder's name, viciously. A moment was spent looking up his father's cell--just down the hall from Suresh's--and then he was wheeling away from the computer, pulling himself to his feet in a fluid motion. Then, just like that, he was headed towards the cell block, throwing open the door when he reached it, his heart hammering in his chest.
This was it.
"Hello, Mohinder."
His father could wait just a little longer.
They'd seen him coming a mile away--literally, or so he thought, certain that there had been cameras on the roads that had lead here, even if he hadn't seen them--and so they'd been ready. They'd started conventional, with guns and tasers, trying to subdue him before he'd managed to even get halfway out of the car. When that hadn't worked, each death only serving to annoy him more and more, each round they fired hitting home less and less as his ire rose, they'd retreated. They'd tried tranq darts next, dosed with enough drugs to kill an elephant. Then they'd tried playing upon the weakness they'd found in his abilities--he couldn't use his electricity if they hosed him down, which they had. Then they were dead, a mass of bodies at his feet, and he was inside Nathan's stronghold. Building 26.
It didn't sound easy, and he was already sore and exhausted from all the healing he'd had to do and power he had to display, but it was easier than getting out would be, he knew. He'd find what he came here looking for, but hell if Nathan or his Hunter would let him leave with it without another fight. A better fight. They thought they were building a better mousetrap in letting him get lost in the silent halls of the Building, and he wasn't sure that they weren't right. This was a gamble and he knew it, but it was something that had to be risk because his father was here--his real father--and he would see him dead, for what he'd done to him and his mother, in his childhood.
That in mind, Sylar moved down the halls of the building silently, looking for further clues to where, exactly, his father was, here. He found what he was looking for a few minutes later--a computer in a room that had clearly been recently and hastily abandoned--and he couldn't help but think set-up again. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered but his father now, and still mute, he sat down at the terminal, flashing a quick, sick grin at the camera that watched him from the wall opposite where he was sitting, before setting to work.
Nothing mattered but his father, until he saw the name of an old friend, listed among the captured. Mohinder Suresh. Now there was a can of worms if he ever saw one, his opinions on the geneticist mixed.
On one hand, he couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Had they drugged Suresh, like the Indian had done to him, an age ago? Was he duct taped to a chair somewhere, a gun pressed to his head as someone threatened revenge for all the evil he'd done, while he'd been sick in body and mind in his quest for power? Could he stop the bullet, if they decided to shoot? Would he? And if he happened to stumble upon Suresh's cell, while looking for his father, would he really care if he found a corpse rather than the other man himself? He wasn't so sure.
On the other hand, however, sitting there, staring at his name on that list, he felt compelled to go and spring him from his prison. Not that he held any illusions that Suresh would do the same for him--he'd probably be helping to put him away, if he thought it would save his own skin--but he hated to see the geneticist there. He hated seeing something that could be his--Mohinder's ability, not him, not anymore--sitting just out of reach, locked up here. And beyond that, he knew what it was to be locked up and tortured, the latter of which he was sure Nathan's little team was doing in an attempt to get rid of those with abilities, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even his worst enemy. Not even Suresh.
Sylar scowled at the screen for a moment, before scrolling past Mohinder's name, viciously. A moment was spent looking up his father's cell--just down the hall from Suresh's--and then he was wheeling away from the computer, pulling himself to his feet in a fluid motion. Then, just like that, he was headed towards the cell block, throwing open the door when he reached it, his heart hammering in his chest.
This was it.
"Hello, Mohinder."
His father could wait just a little longer.
