Thought is an infection. In the case of certain thoughts, it becomes an epidemic.
January 1st, 2013
Hands clasped behind his back, he walked slowly, methodically, towards the table where his quarry lay still. It had been three years since this old factory had last been inhabited. Nothing had lived there, of course. But, he believed, the crumbling steel mill still housed a dark secret.
Ah, yes. There he was.
Time had not been merciful to Gabriel. Fitting. Covered in dust and the stench of his decay, the corpse had not been disturbed or mourned in the years since he had fallen here, shattered pipe still clutched in his hand.
He kicked aside a fallen brick that rested in his path.
"Oh, Sylar. You were such a disappointment to me." The eyes, long since destroyed by the ravages of decay, sat full of fluid and hate, glowering at Xander. A pool of black caked thickly on his shirt. Such a simple, stale color was the only evidence of how such tremendous power had been so quickly snuffed out.
Whispers in the dark.
"Shh, shh, shh. This is no time for excuses." Xander gently patted Sylar's matted hair, kicking up the dust, which could only faintly be seen in the moonlight streaming in from above. Grease and dust stuck to Xander's hand and he gracefully pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away. "And besides, I did not come here only to scold you." The factory was as silent as it had always been for the past few years, but now, there was tension in the grey and rusting tomb. Xander mused that the ghosts of the past had come to watch this most momentous occasion.
"I've come to give you a gift." And Xander met Sylar's gaze, hoping to see a change in expression, a sign of surprise and then gratitude, but the corpse only offered its congealed, gaping mask. "Your work is unfinished. Your talents lie wasted in these shadows." Xander lifted his right hand and admired it for a moment. Only for a moment, and, then, short sparks of blue energy crackled and wrapped around his fingers and dance upon his palm.
The darkness chattered louder.
"Rise from your grave. Complete your destiny." Xander pressed his palm firmly against Sylar's chest.
"This is your last chance…."
The energy snapped loudly and erupted from their silent dance around Xander's thin fingers and flew into Sylar's mouth and eyes. Sylar's back arched and his mouth, still open from the shock of dying, let forth a raspy groan. The dust of the past three years blew away in the wind, skin reattached itself to bone, eyes reformed themselves in their sockets, and pus and dried blood gave way to a fresh and new body. The sword wound in his stomach silently shut and, with that, Sylar had returned to life.
Sylar sat up, rigid with fear and excitement, touching his neck and face to reassure himself that, yes, in fact, he was living again.
Xander, however, was leaning against a nearby workbench, also clutching at his face, but to stop the flow of blood, which dripped from his eyes and nose. Taking deep, sharp breaths, he winced with pain as he rose to stand straight and meet Sylar's true eyes. Sylar only stared at him in shock.
"Welcome…back…" Xander gasped. Sylar remained motionless. Xander tilted his head and, furrowing his brow, returned Sylar's gaze.
Sylar grabbed the pipe lying next to him. For just a flicker, Xander's eyes widened in surprise and, perhaps, fear as Sylar lunged at him with his pipe. Just as Sylar brought the weapon inches away from breaking Xander's neck, he suddenly stopped, frozen in place. Xander wiped away the last traces of blood from his face and slowly walked around the motionless Sylar with a look of amusement on his face.
"That is fascinating. I have to consciously control your actions. Boy, that could have ended poorly for me." As Xander returned to face Sylar, the resurrected watchmaker's eyes narrowed in fury and the muscles around his throat tensed. "You may speak."
"What are you doing to me!?" He surprised himself with the ferocity of his voice which had not been used in many years. It was raspy, like gravel, and metallic. Reading Sylar's thoughts, Xander chuckled humorlessly as he heard Sylar compare his once velvety voice with the torn, battered thing it had become.
"I, personally, would show a little gratitude. I just brought you back from the dead." Sylar lowered his arms and, finding himself free to move, dropped his weapon and looked at his hands.
"I…I was dead…."
"Very much so."
"How did you…?"
"It is my gift."
"Gift?" Sylar looked back to Xander, his eyes widening with something that could only be described as hunger. Xander laughed.
"I can safely say that your days of stealing things that never belonged to you are over. Consider your servitude to me as your punishment for hurting so many people."
"Servitude!"
"There is a price to pay with every gift. I have given you another chance at life. In exchange, you are irrevocably connected with my mind. All that you do, you do because of me. Not to worry though, I will let you maintain most of your free will." The fury had very clearly returned to Sylar's face, but Xander did not need to look at him to know. He could feel Sylar's anger as if it were his own.
"It doesn't sound like free will to me." Xander shrugged.
"You will come to understand the wonders of my gift in time. Unfortunately, we have much work to do."
"I'm going to find a way out of this. And when I do, I'm going to carve into your skull and take that lovely power of yours. And then you can be my prisoner." Xander looked at him gravely.
And then smiled.
"Charming. Not as bright as I thought you were, though." Sylar, taken aback by the insult, could only glare at his captor. "We have a mission, Sylar, and you are key to my plans. As a little incentive…"
"Incentive?" Xander smiled.
"In a manner of speaking. I don't need you cooperate with me. I could just force you to follow all of my orders. Still, I'd prefer if you understood the righteousness of my mission. We are going to change the world, Sylar. We're going to create a paradise, heal the Earth of all its illnesses. Sadness, war, anger, jealousy, death…. It will be beautiful."
Xander waited for a response from Sylar, but none came. Instead, he heard Sylar's only thought. You're insane. Xander's smile, which had grown as he launched into his sermon on the new world he planned to create, faded quickly. "Strange criticism coming from someone like you. If that isn't enough to convince you, I could also give you the chance to confront your killer."
"My…" Sylar looked to down at the floor in pained confusion. He searched his mind past the solid, dark wall of the past three years of his death and reached beyond to the time when he was still alive, still in control.
"Hiro, my friend. Hiro killed you."
