Author's note: I might not be getting a flood of reviews, but I appreciate every one I get. A thank you to last chapter's reviewers! Feedback is the brain to my Sylar. So feed me, please. This chapter is quite short...I apologize.
Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it?
Veronica Hammond and Gabriel Gray
Odessa, Texas
10:23. Just as expected. The car's headlights snatch the "Welcome to Primatech Paper Company!" sign. Few lights are on the company grounds. I give Sylar a wary glance. He's been here before. He'll panic once he knows where he is. Please, please, don't wake up.
"Where are you taking me, Veronica?"
I nearly jump in my seat. I don't answer him, but step hard on the gas, concentrating on the route around the paper factory buildings. Just a final turn on the next corner…He suddenly grabs my arm and I almost lose control of the wheel.
"I asked you a question: where are you taking me?" He hisses into my ear.
The car swerves round the corner and I hit the brakes. The silhouette of a helicopter is a few feet away. I shake away his grip on me.
He only glares at me. "Get me out of here."
"With pleasure." I say, my breath short.
A round of armed men run towards the SUV, their guns pointed sharply at Sylar's head. I step out of the car, cradling my sore wrist and walk shakily towards the helicopter.
"I said I'll get you out of here." I say to Sylar, who's being dragged towards the helicopter. "And I will."
Hartsdale, New York
An hour-and-a-half later
Only one of the armed guards accompany us on the journey back to New York. For the entire trip, Sylar remains quietly staring out the window. He seems to be taking it all in, analyzing every little piece, every little act that brought him here.
No sooner do the glowering skyscrapers appear to greet us as we reach New York. The helicopter prepares to land on facility's roof and I can feel my stomach turn over. I grip my the edge of my seat and slow down my breathing. I only release all the tension when the noise of the helicopter dies down.
Bob awaits close at hand and, for once, I'm glad to see the man. I step down from the helicopter, relief and satisfaction washing over me like a welcoming tide.
"Good work, Veronica." He says. "It's not yet even midnight and you're already here—and with Gabriel."
"My name is Sylar!" Sylar snaps.
"Pleasure to meet you, too." Bob says placidly. "Veronica, we'll have talk, but not after you aid in escorting Mr. Gray to his unit."
I don't bother arguing. What's a few more minutes here? I stride beside Sylar, on the verge of skipping, grateful for the ground beneath my feet—and more. Sylar is still silently furious as we take him to the basement, where his special unit awaits. I slide my card, which I only acquired a day ago, into the electronic lock on the door and press a five-digit (43549) code on the small keypad. A second later, the metal door slides open.
There's another room, where, through a large glass panel, a cot stands in the center with a urinal and sink in the corner. I enter another code (84326) on the second keypad and the guard pushes Sylar through the doorway. He takes a look around before moving towards the glass. His eyes are on the ground, but I take a step backwards. He slams his fists against the glass, cringing at the pain, then slowly raises his eyes at me. For a second, I almost pity him—a caged animal. He's caged for a good reason, I remind myself.
"You'll have all the time to observe him." I hear Bob's dry tone from behind me.
"Excuse me?" I say, turning around with a puzzled look on my face.
He leads me out into the hallway, away from Sylar's stony glare. The lights automatically shut off as the door closes.
"We underestimated him. This is the second time he's escaped on our watch." Bob explains. "We can't afford anymore mistakes. We need you here, Veronica."
My jaw tightens and my fists curl. I turn away from Bob and stare at my dull reflection on the gleaming white floor.
"How long?" I ask, my voice trembling. "How long will I be here?"
"We can't be all too certain about that. As you can tell, Gabriel Gray is rather…difficult."
I nod shortly.
"We've transferred you to the ground floor. Your room is directly above his." Bob continues, gesturing towards Sylar's unit.
"How convenient." I mutter icily.
"We'll talk more tomorrow. Get some rest." Bob then heads towards the elevator.
I don't move until I hear the soft sound of the elevator doors closing after him. My heart is racing, breath shallow. I feel dizzy. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. I can feel tears rushing to my eyes, but I bite my lip and shake my head. Only a single tear manages to escape before I trail slowly to my room.
The alarm blares for several seconds before I shut it off. The ringing still echoes all throughout the room. I sit up on my bed and pull my legs towards me, resting my chin on my knees. There's a sick feeling in my empty stomach. I feel like vomiting. My new room is similar to my former. White walls, barred windows, cold linoleum floors. I hate those walls, those windows and those floors. I want to get out of this box. I want to breathe.
Escaping seems futile. The Company may underestimate its targets, but it makes up for its thoroughness when it comes to tracking and surveying them. They will find me. I've heard snippets of this outrageous tracking system The Company has—the Walker tracking system or something like that. Mohinder and his telepathic friend, Matt, were discussing it with Bob some time ago.
Threats aren't an option either. I can't do much with my abilities. I have yet to figure out how to throw people against the wall with this presently-fragile bubble of mine. Unless, I can persuade another "patient" here to help me escape. But who? Oh hell, either way, The Company will still locate me.
All I can do is get on with it, like a good, obedient little girl. The smug face of Elle comes into my mind. She's a twisted piece of work. All credit goes to her daddy dearest, Bob, for that. No, I won't let them control me. I'll find a way out of this, somehow.
Like every morning for the past month, I commence with my routine once more. I take a shower and dress. However, I'm surprised to no longer see the plain white uniform laid out for me. I previously failed to notice a small cabinet in one corner of the room. I open it and my eyes widen at the sight of my own clothes. I smile faintly. They still smell of the lavender-scented detergent I used. I put on a pair of jeans and a gray button-down sweater over a white top. The warm comfort and smell of home seem almost alien and disconcerting.
A tray of food is already set on the desk by my bed: toast with bacon and eggs. They usually give me something dreary like oatmeal or cereal. The Company must be in some sort of celebration at the retrieval of Sylar and I'm apparently getting a slice of the cake. Someone knocks on my door as I sip on my glass of orange juice. No one's ever knocked before they enter my room. I usually anticipate someone's entrance at the sound of the electric lock.
"Err…come in." I say loudly.
Click. Beep. The door swings open to reveal Mohinder.
"Good morning, Veronica. It's nice to see you alive and well." He says, smiling brightly.
"Nice to see you too, Mohinder." I say. "I guess you won't be missing me anymore. I'm going to be staying for, probably, a very long while."
"Bob left for California today." Mohinder says.
I let out a sigh of delight. "Good. I don't want to hear anymore of my duties. Does this mean I get the day off?"
"On the contrary, no. You and I are going to pay our latest patient a visit."
Another doctor is in Sylar's cell as we enter. I know him as Henry. Through the glass panel, we watch him give Sylar an injection. It's been only a few hours, but Sylar looks on the edge of death. He's clean-shaven now, but his skin is pallid and there are dark circles around his half-closed eyes. He's curled up on his cot, staring off into space.
"What did they do to him?" I ask softly.
"They're giving him a special kind of medication, something stronger than the negation pills." Mohinder replies. "The Company developed it long before I came to join. The other doctors haven't fully explained it to me. I can only guess it may be a raw, undistilled version of the negation pills."
Henry nods at us as he leaves. We continue to observe the inert Sylar for several moments.
I break the silence. "All right. So, what now?"
Mohinder is scowling furiously at Sylar. It's the first time I've ever seen him like this. Then I remember Sylar's file and that he's the one murdered Mohinder's father. I also recall Bob telling me before that Sylar had fooled Mohinder, becoming his so-called ally.
"It's not your fault." I suddenly blurt out.
Mohinder's face slowly softens. "Bob and I have been long discussing if there's anyway to remove Sylar's abilities—the one's which he took from others. Suppressing them isn't enough and killing him…is our last resort."
I move towards the glass, my face practically pressing against the pane. "He deserves to die." I hope he hears me.
"How was California? Sunny, I hope?" I ask Elle sweetly.
She lowers her sunglasses and bats her bright blue eyes at me. "Bright and breezy as your pretty little face."
She struts away, laughing. I roll my eyes silently. After two days, Bob and Elle have returned from California. Perhaps they went on a little vacation, but I highly doubt it. It's all work and no play for The Company. And in Elle's case, she plays at work. Blue sparks crackle in her hands as she disappears down the hall.
"I hope the same goes for our latest resident." Bob says behind me.
"Oh, sure. Your special medication has got him all cheery like a 5-year-old in Disneyland." I say, sarcasm lacing my words.
"His body will adjust to it. He'll be well in no time." Bob says. "Now, you and I have to discuss a few things."
