November 2, 1: 21 p.m.
Ando heard the apartment door close and reluctantly pulled away from Hiro. 'Suresh is back,' he said in a low voice.
Hiro let his hands fall to his sides and sighed, looking somewhat crestfallen. 'We should go talk to him. Maybe he has information.'
Ando nodded, but didn't move. The murmur of low voices drifted in from the other room, but nobody knocked on the door. For that, Ando was grateful. He still had some things to say.
'I want you to know,' he said slowly. 'That no matter what happens, I don't blame you. For anything.'
Hiro bit his lower lip and Ando was again struck by the fierce desire to protect him and keep him safe, which was strange considering that he was the one with the prophesized death. Hiro was an idealist and had been all his life. Pain hit him harder than it did most people, and while Ando would do his best to keep him from physical harm there was nothing he could do to protect Hiro from his own sense of failure or guilt.
'You could still leave,' Hiro said quietly.
Ando shook his head. 'I told you I won't,' he said. 'And that's my choice.'
Hiro sighed heavily. 'We'd better go talk to Mr. Suresh, then.'
He turned to open the door and had his hand on the door knob when Ando stepped up behind him and slid his arms around Hiro's waist.
'I know we argue a lot,' Ando said as he pulled Hiro backwards so that they were pressed together, back to chest. 'And sometimes you drive me crazy. But...' He pressed a kiss to Hiro's throat. 'Later, I'm going to show you exactly how much you mean to me.'
Hiro's cheeks colored slightly, but he smiled and rested his hands over Ando's. 'Later.'
Ando nodded and released him reluctantly. 'Let's go.'
Peter and Mohinder were talking at Mohinder's desk when Hiro and Ando left the bedroom. Both of them had smiles on their faces and Mohinder's voice was cheerful when he noticed his two guests.
'Ah, there you are,' Mohinder said. 'I was just telling Peter that I'm probably going to be getting some information on Sylar very shortly. I met a man today who said he could help; I'm expecting his phone call. Did anybody stop by while I was gone?'
Hiro shook his head and Ando said 'No, just Peter.'
'Good,' Mohinder said, seemingly relieved. 'The man I spoke with seemed to think that I'd be getting a visit from some head of a company. Apparently there are more people interested in my research than I'd previously thought.'
'What company?' Peter asked curiously.
Mohinder shrugged. 'Some foreign firm, Yamagato I think. Anyway, it might not have even been true...what?' Mohinder asked as Hiro and Ando exchanged glances.
'I think your father is stalking us,' Ando muttered in Japanese.
'I thought he went home,' Hiro said, frowning. 'Could be someone else.'
'In New York? Strange coincidence,' Ando said skeptically. Then, in English, he said to Mohinder, 'We used to work for Yamagato, back in Japan. Hiro's father...he is CEO.'
Mohinder looked at Hiro sharply. 'I thought you were an office worker.'
'I was,' Hiro said morosely. 'I have no 'ambition.''
'No ambition.' Mohinder laughed humorlessly. 'And did he send you here? Send you here to spy on me, steal my research?'
'No!' Hiro exclaimed, shaking his head rapidly.
'Really?' Mohinder scowled. 'It wouldn't be the first time somebody was planted as a spy. It seems I can't trust anyone.'
Hiro looked hurt. 'We came here for your help.'
'We aren't spies,' Ando added. 'We only came here because somebody told us you could help us find Sylar. Besides, if we were supposed to be spying on you why would we mention Yamagato?'
Mohinder fell silent. Peter looked at Hiro and Ando and shrugged. At last Mohinder sighed and passed his hand over his eyes.
'You're right,' Mohinder said finally. 'I'm sorry. Everything that's happened...it's made me terribly paranoid. Not everybody turns out like their fathers. I suppose I should know that as well as anyone.'
'It's alright,' Hiro said. 'You had reason to be suspicious.'
Ando crossed his arms over his chest. He still felt slightly offended by the accusations, but he was willing to let it go if Hiro was. The two of them, spies! Laughable.
Mohinder's apartment phone rang suddenly, startling the lot of them. Mohinder shook himself briefly. 'Almost on cue. That will be my information source. Excuse me.'
He strode quickly over to the phone and answered it. Hiro trailed after him, obviously eager for information. Ando remained where he was and watched.
'Hello? Mr. Thompson, what a surprise...'
The conversation continued but Ando was distracted by a touch on his shoulder. He turned around to face Peter.
'I suppose you want this back,' Peter said, offering the blood stained comic page which was folded once again. Ando glanced at it.
'Not really,' he said. 'I don't think it'll do me or Hiro much good.'
'Maybe not the picture,' Peter allowed. 'But did you see the writing on the back?'
'Writing?'
'I couldn't read it; it's not in English,' Peter said as he unfolded the paper. 'Maybe it's some hint on what we're supposed to do?'
Ando took it and looked it over. The page was literally covered in Kanji, but it wasn't anything particularly helpful. Some dates and city names, but mostly just the same thing over and over again. He shook his head slowly.
'Not very helpful,' he muttered.
'What is it?' Peter asked.
'Some dates and things. Mostly it's just repetitive.' Ando swallowed. 'I'm so sorry. That's what it says.'
'Over and over?' Peter asked quietly. Ando nodded.
'The Hiro I met on the subway was so...different than this one.' Peter gestured at Hiro, who was hovering around Mohinder like an antsy child. 'Sterner. Sadder.' Peter paused as if searching for the right word. 'Darker. It was this that did it, wasn't it? Sylar killing you?'
Ando chuckled, even though it was not at all funny. 'That's what you said. In the future, I mean...when you told me I...'
'He must have loved you very much.' Peter's voice was soft and somewhat awestruck.
'He did. I mean, he does.' Ando folded up the comic page and slipped it into his pocket, deciding to keep it after all. He sighed. 'Look, I barely know you but I want to ask you a favor anyway.'
'Sure,' Peter said easily, but Hiro came bounding over right at that moment with a grin on his face.
'There's a tracking system!' he exclaimed. 'Here, in New York! We can use it to find Sylar.'
Peter looked at Mohinder, who was just putting the phone in its cradle. 'Really? That's great!'
'Yes, well, I think it would be best if I went by myself,' Mohinder said. 'This man who called, Thompson, he isn't exactly-'
The phone rang again, shrilly. Mohinder waited a moment and then picked it up mid-ring. 'Did you forget some-' He stopped speaking abruptly. His eyes went wide and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
'Sylar?!' Mohinder asked incredulously.
November 2, 2:10 p.m.
Claude Raines huddled outside Isaac Mendez's apartment building and wished for a hot cup of coffee. His hands were freezing and he could hardly feel his nose. Bloody New York winters.
It was dangerous to be hanging around Mendez's abode when the man was obviously in cahoots with Bennett, but Claude needed to talk with the little artist too desperately to be cautious. There was no sign of the painter and hadn't been for several hours but Claude was nothing if not patient. He didn't dare go up to the man's apartment directly, not after the tazering incident, but the second Mendez stepped outside Claude would be on him. He had some questions that needed to be answered, specifically questions about a little comic series called 'Ninth Wonders.'
It was after two o'clock when Claude noticed the man in the black trench coat. The guy seemed either drunk or insane; for ten minutes straight he just stood in the middle of the sidewalk and stared up at the building, seemingly oblivious to the curious stares of the other pedestrians that passed him. Claude ignored him for the time being; New York was filled with so many strange people that if you stopped to wonder about every one of them you'd never get anything done.
Then, however, the man appeared to get agitated. He took a cell phone out of his coat pocket, opened it, stared at it, shut it, and opened it again. Then he looked up and down the street as if searching for somebody. His eyes passed briefly over where Claude stood invisible and Claude couldn't help but shudder. Those were the eyes of a psychopath.
Apparently satisfied that no one was going to eavesdrop on him (something that intrigued Claude and made him creep closer to the strange man), the man pressed a button on his cell phone and then put it to his ear.
'Mohinder?' The man asked when the individual on the other end picked up. Claude's ears perked up. He had just recently sent the two Japanese blokes over to a Mohinder Suresh. Coincidence? Not in this crazy world.
Claude slipped away while the trench coat man had what appeared to be an argument with the person on the other end. He watched the man from the shadows, and when the man hung up and started down the street Claude followed him.
The streets were fairly crowded as usual and Claude had to do some fancy maneuvering to keep up with the trench coat man. A man on a bike nearly plowed right into him, and an old woman's dog growled as he went past but Claude paid these things no mind. He kept his gaze focused on the back of the man in the black coat.
Then somehow the man was on the complete opposite side of the street. There he was, drifting past a record store and a few small restaurants as if he'd been walking down that way the entire time. Claude swore, understanding immediately that he was dealing with a special. He dodged his way around a teenager wearing headphones and started across the street, hoping to catch up with the man in the black coat...
...and was struck by an oncoming SUV. Luckily it wasn't going all that fast due to traffic conditions, but Claude was knocked to the ground hard nonetheless. He phased back into visibility as he hit the ground and swore again as pain lanced through his shoulder and arm. He'd been careless; it was incredibly stupid to walk into the street like that, even if (or maybe especially if) one was invisible.
Claude groaned and tried to sit up as the driver climbed out of the vehicle. Dizziness assailed him; he'd hit his head when he fell apparently. The driver rushed over to where Claude lay.
'Guy came out of nowhere!' the driver exclaimed to the onlookers. Behind the SUV, cars were beginning to honk. The noise wasn't pleasant. Claude moaned and shut his eyes briefly.
'I'm alright,' he said from the ground. 'Just got knocked down. No need to make a fuss.'
'Papa, we hit a man,' said a woman's voice. Claude opened his eyes a crack and saw that a pretty young Asian woman had joined the driver. She looked down at Claude with concern.
Embarrassed, Claude sat up, ignoring the dizziness. 'S'alright, love, no harm done. I'll just be up and on my way.'
'But you're bleeding!' the woman protested. Claude put a hand to his forehead; it came away crimson.
'Why so I am,' Claude said mildly. 'Oh well; it's not the worst I've ever had.' He got to his feet and smiled at the woman. He was only a little unsteady. 'See? Perfectly fine.'
'The woman frowned at him. 'We should take you to the hospital.'
Claude shook his head and opened his mouth to refuse, but the words died in his mouth as another man climbed out of the SUV and came to join the woman and the driver. The man raised an eyebrow when his gaze found Claude, but otherwise did not react.
Claude raised his eyes towards the sky and cursed. 'Oh, bugger me,' he grumbled.
Kaito Nakamura just smirked.
