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.