Finally Sylar was on the correct street in Newark, and within moments he was at the address. "Taxidermist?" Sylar muttered from the street, stopped in his tracks. He almost smiled when he thought of the irony, then walked to the door. Finding it open, he walked in without knocking. He looked around, noting the expensive details of the place, along with the many stuffed animals.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Sylar called out, but no one answered. Walking around the house, he saw a photo of himself as a young boy, and near it, a snow globe.
Hearing a door creak, he followed the sound and found a lit cigarette in an ash tray. There was a loud bang, and suddenly electricity coursed through his body. Turning, Sylar faced a special ops team trained to take down 'specials'. He telekinetically shot the electric nodes out of him, and then went to work killing his attackers with ease, leaving one alive for information. "Who sent you? Where's my father?"
When the agent refused to answer, Sylar had another idea. Taking him into another house on the street, he fastened the agent to a chair by stabbing screwdrivers into his hands, all the way through the arm rests, and then taped his mouth. "That oughta hold you," he said as he happily went about learning who lived in the house.
Wandering into the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and began ruffling through the mail on the counter before the nagging feeling of being watched hit him again. Looking out the window over the sink, he saw nothing. He tried to ignore the feeling, but the way it made him feel guilty – an emotion he particularly despised – couldn't be ignored.
Going to the front door, he peered out the window, but only saw the police surrounding his father's house down the street. Thinking about it some more, he decided his new quest to find his father was likely putting him more in touch with his emotions and, as a result, it was making him paranoid. Figuring that must be it, and since he saw no one, he went back into the kitchen for his coffee and to scrounge up some food while he waited for someone to come home.
Soon enough, he heard the front door open and close, along with panicked whispers.
"You must be Mary Campbell... or, occupant," Sylar smiled as he came into the living room to greet them, holding up the mail. Mary came at him with the poker from the fireplace after getting a look at the bloody agent, but with the wave of his hand it was across the room, and Mary and her teen boy were forced telekinetically into chairs. Grinning at the agent, Sylar said, "Let's see if their torture gets you talking."
"Your father's been taken into custody," the agent said.
"Another lie," Sylar laughed, "it's really time we got started. Now, where to start," he said, looking from the boy to Mary. "...how about...Mommy."
"Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?" Mary asked.
"Nothing. I could just as easily be a tornado...there's no difference, actually." Again, that annoying sense of being watched! Sylar swept the room with his eyes. Nothing. He looked out of the windows. Nothing.
"Leave her alone!" The boy yelled, snapping Sylar's attention back.
"Quiet Luke!" Mary yelled back at him.
"I sense some dysfunction in the Campbell household," Sylar grinned, lowering his hand. "Come on, Luke, I know that rage – the rage of a father gone and an abandoned mother who drew the short stick. ...I saw the child support check in the mail. Deep down, you want to see her dead. Admit it."
Luke just glared at him, and, getting bored, Sylar began telekinetically choking Mary while sipping his coffee. Without warning, his mug exploded, hot coffee burning him as he looked to see Luke's hand raised in his direction.
"Small world. We really need to talk."
Sylar dragged Luke across the room, and set out a plastic figurine on a table. "Show me," he said, stepping back to watch. Before his eyes, Luke easily melted the figure.
"It's like a microwave," Luke muttered proudly under his breath as though trying to impress and be accepted, so that it became obvious that Sylar's earlier words concerning the Campbell household were not that far off.
"Very impressive," Sylar said, thinking.
"You should see it around pacemakers," Luke chuckled, and Sylar followed suit. Mary made a noise, looking at her son with a disgusted look. "She hates me, you know."
"She can sense it in you...the will," Sylar pointed to his head as Luke hung on his every word. Just then, the agent broke free and aimed his gun at Sylar.
"NO," Luke yelled, pushing Sylar out of the way and killing the agent with his ability. The agent's burnt and bubbly body fell dead to the floor.
"Luke! NO!" Mary yelled.
"He was...," Luke broke off, scared and staring at the body.
"He was going to save us! What are you?" She looked at him as though he repulsed her. Sylar turned to leave, irate that his one chance to find his father was now dead on the floor.
"Take me with you! I know where your father is," Luke pleaded. "I can take you to him."
Sylar studied him, noting he wasn't lying, various emotions playing on his face.
"I know why you need to find him, I'm just like you. Take me with you."
"Does your mother have a car?" Sylar asked, still deciding.
Luke grabbed the set of keys from the table, "Not anymore." They both smirked as Sylar snatched the keys from Luke's hand. Mary sat quite still in the chair, not daring to make a sound as she watched her son steal her car.