The most recent installment of the President Sylar legacy.
Though not mentioned in this next note (I didn't feel it was my place to overstep Angela's careful organization and reveal our master plan), Angela has been collaborating with me in an effort to have my presidency restored. Though neither of us enjoys working with the other, we are each receiving incredible benefits from the partnership.
And I still have control... How I enjoy driving this.
She walks past the desk, running her wrinkled hand over the polished wood. Her eyes meet mine briefly, and I feel the wonder flowing from them as tangible as the warm air. I can't help the smile that grows on my face. Once she has fully digested the meaning of my words, she turns to me, her sharp jaw taut.
"Immortality?"
I stand, barely containing my excitement.
"Yes."
"How is this possible?" she whispers fiercely, those hawk-eyes piercing the air. "Surely you don't mean--"
"No," I affirm, pacing beside her. She remains motionless, watching every movement I make. "Not your granddaughter. Not anyone you've met, I'm sure."
"Where," she simply asks. I reclaim the swivel chair, folding my arms across my chest. The tension is growing, but her heart remains steady. What a strong woman.
"Washington State, actually," I say at length. She purses her lips, but only because she's uncertain. What have I been doing these past months? The question is written plainly on her face, lined in her features. She should know I won't tell her everything.
I don't want to give her more power than she already has.
"They are highschoolers. Easy pickings. And for their strength, they have an extroardinary weakness--"
"'They'?" Her brows pull into a thin line, and her fisted hand shakes against the table. I chuckle, and it sets her off even more. She hates that I can do this to her. She hates not knowing everything.
"Yes."
Her eyes become a stormy squall.
"What is their ability?"
I let my gaze drift to her eyes, and I raise a thick eyebrow. "It's not genetics, Angela."
"Then what?"
Her face grows more constricted, and I don't have to read her mind. If she can't control me now...
"What, Gabriel? Dammit, tell me!"
What has she gotten herself into?
But I must humor her. If this is going to work, I need her to feel in control. If I lose her, everything will unravel. Yet, if she loses me, her plans will also be ruined. So she regains her composure, and I let go of my resolve.
"It's infectious. They weren't born with it, but they 'caught' it. It's something that I can catch too." She picks up her shoulder bag, her polished nails digging into the leather. "Given the right circumstances... I can become everything they are. And more."
"And there are no costs?"
"Only a bit of risk," I murmur casually. "But it's nothing Sylar can't handle."
She turns to leave, striding on clicking heels to the beat of the whirring fan.
"Do whatever it takes."
But she didn't have to tell me, and she seems to know it.