Claire's POV
"Now Claire!" her dad snarled from behind her.
She didn't look in Sylar's eyes before she turned; she didn't want to see the cold indifference. She wanted to remember when they were soft and warm.
Not allowing herself to look back, she followed her father to his car. It was nicer than the one she and Sylar had stolen, but it was still blendable. Climbing in, she tried not to worry if Sylar was ahead of the agents too. "Where are we going now?"
"Away." Noah's voice was clipped and brimming with anger. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
"Dad," she began.
"Claire, unless it involves a stealthy plan to bring about that killer's death, I don't want to hear it."
"He kept me safe. He brought me to you." She turned in her seat to stare at him. "Even after what you did to him. To both of us."
"Sit back and put on your seat belt." He paused but she ignored his words. "I did what was necessary, Claire. We would never have made it out otherwise. I do what I have to do, to keep you safe."
"That's such-" Tires screeching broke her rant. She turned her head in time to see the black van stop directly in front of them. She flung her arms up instinctively as she was thrown forward on impact. The windshield shattered and she was propelled into the van's side.
Everything went momentarily black as she died. A few seconds later, she took a deep breath and waited for her vision to clear. She groaned, rolling off of the smashed hood of her dad's car. "Dad? Dad!" She helped her leg back into a straight line so she could stand. Stumbling a little on a still broken ankle, she tried to get to him.
He was in the car, slumped against the wheel. It didn't look like he was moving. She could see a gash on his forehead, bleeding freely. She grabbed hold of the door handle but it was stuck. Struggling with it, she didn't notice the other van pull up or the agents jumping out. She barely even noticed the taser that caught her in the back, dropping her immediately.
Claire blinked several times, trying to wake herself up. She was in some sort of lab and there were several men in white coats, conversing quietly in the corner. She tried to get up, but found herself strapped to a table. Straps held her at her wrists, chest, stomach, hips, legs in two places, and ankles. They apparently wanted her highly immobile. Unfortunately, before she could work out much more, one of the men noticed she was awake.
"Ah, Miss Bennett. Lovely of you to join us."
"What do you want?" she said through clinched teeth.
"Now, now. No need to get yourself worked up just yet. We have a few questions for you. Then, should you prove uncooperative, we will try some…persuasion."
"Go to hell."
"Well, that's not a very good way to start, is it? We'll begin with the easy questions. Shall we?" He pulled a chair close to her head and sat with a clipboard resting on his crossed legs. The other three gathered around in similar fashion. "Rebel. What do you know about him?"
"Nothing."
"Mmhmm…What about the boy, Micah?"
"Never heard of him," she lied. She vaguely recalled meeting a kid by that name the night Peter almost exploded.
"Sure." He smiled at her. "What about one Hiro Nakamura?"
"…" She attempted to shrug her shoulders.
"Yes? What are his current abilities?"
"Haven't seen him in a while."
"The last time you saw him?"
"Can't remember." She knew she was a terrible liar and it was obvious the lab coat could tell it.
"Of course." He made a few notes on his paper. "Sylar?"
She swallowed. "He's a killer."
"I see. And on a more personal level?"
"…I don't know anything about him."
"Right. Well, I believe it's time to start a little of that persuasion we discussed. Mr. Krane, if you would, please." He stepped back, taking his stool with him; the others, again, followed his lead.
Krane came forward with an IV bag. She watched him as he punctured her arm and began the machine to pump the mysterious fluid into her.
"Thank you. Doctor Emden are you prepared?" the polite jerk asked.
An older man in the corner came forward. He held a surgical scalpel as he approached her with a sick grin. He stopped beside her and waited for the go-ahead nod. He made one long slice on her left forearm and it hurt like hell!
Claire jerked and turned surprised eyes on the man; her arm wasn't healing.
"Doctor West, shall I continue?" Emden sounded eager for more cutting.
"Not yet," the polite one, West, answered. "You see Miss Bennett; we've been anticipating your arrival for quite some time. We've created a new version of the ability controlling serum, just for you. Well, and for Mr. Sylar, of course. Given intravenously, it'll block your abilities, while still allowing you to remain completely conscious. Makes the persuasion much more effective. Don't you agree?"
She tried to not let her fear show, but she was sure he saw it. She swallowed hard, ignoring the burning in her arm. "Stop the IV." His neutral eyes watched her arm heal and she could see the curiosity there. She knew he was going to enjoy torturing her to watch her heal. "Now, about Mr. Sylar…"
Sylar POV
Sylar watched Claire walk away from him. He could never let her know how hard that was. At the same time, however, he felt relief that she was gone. He was on his own again; no one depending on him. No lives rested in his murderous hands, at least none that he intended to protect.
When Claire turned out of his sight, he strolled lazily out of the opposite end of the alley. He wanted to find another van belonging to the government; he liked owning one of their computers. Maybe he could get an ice cream somewhere while he waited.
He had just spotted a little stand, when the sound of crunching metal behind him made him stop. He stood frozen with indecision, arguing with himself, before growling his frustration and running towards the noise. He was so mad at himself that he nearly missed the agent with her gun pointed at him. Carelessly, he flicked his wrist and she flew backwards into a brick wall with a sickening thud.
There were three agents surrounding the car, guns drawn. He immobilized each of them and slammed them in a row against the wrecked van. He got to the car and was filled with disappointment; Claire was gone. Noah was barely conscious, leaning heavily on his door.
"Where is she?"
"Took her," Bennett groaned.
Sylar took a steadying breath before turning to the agents pinned against the van. "Where's you other van?" Two of them just glared back silently. The third looked nervously at them but kept his mouth shut. Sylar snapped the two stoic one's necks, then twisted the third's neck just enough to hurt but not damage. "Let's try that again. Where's your van?"
"T-two blocks down, w-waiting for the call." The shaking man was telling the truth.
"Make the call."
His hand shook as he pressed the button. "We've got Bennett." Seconds later a black van rounded the corner and slammed the brakes. Two masked gunmen jumped from the back.
"Thanks." Sylar snapped his neck and headed for the new arrivals. Wordlessly, he stopped their bullets and reversed their direction. He climbed into the van and stole a new computer. He was surprised they hadn't bothered to change their system after his previous theft. Hopping out of the vehicle, he ignored the gathering crowd and opened the computer on the hood of Noah's car. "Anyone coming for you?"
Bennett grunted noncommittally. "Hmm…a Petrelli?" The nearest agents were stuck in traffic halfway across the city. He looked up in time to see Peter and Nathan land, despite the startled crowd.
"Where's Claire?" Peter yelled, charging over.
Sylar turned when he got close. He expected a different reaction than the punch to the nose he received. It took every ounce of restrain the possessed not to kill the man. While he fought his rising temper, the hunger was beginning to sink in. Meanwhile, Peter continued to pound on him, which really wasn't helping his self control.
Sylar dropped to his knee under Peter's fist; the hunger broke through. He reached out a hand, stopping the youngest Petrelli's next blow. Sylar flung him against a nearby building and all the lingering spectators scattered and disappeared in search of safety.
He prowled up to the man he both envied and despised. Peter could have any power he wanted and he didn't have to kill to get it; he didn't have the hunger. If he had the man's ability, he could defeat the hunger. In the end, it would save dozens of lives.
When he raised his index finger, something slammed into him from behind, Nathan. He wouldn't mind having that ability either. But it could wait. He wouldn't have to kill to obtain it. He charged his hands and sent a non-lethal dose of electricity at the flyer, knocking him out cold.
"Now Peter, where do you think you're going?" Sylar pinned him to the wall again and raised his finger. Peter started screaming as Sylar started the slow incision. "Trying to hit me from behind; I thought you were the honorable type, trustworthy." He focused on keeping the line straight; he didn't want to damage such a valuable brain.
A/N: Thanks for reading and for all the great reviews! Please take the time to leave me another one. Let me know what you're thinking. ;)
