The Calm Before by Mallinder

Summary: A collegiate discovers that he has special abilities and quickly learns that even evolution has a dark side.

Rating: PG-13, course language

Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize from 'Heroes' are clearly from 'Heroes' and don't belong to me. Everything else is mine mine mine!

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing. Like, ever, so please be gentle. Any comments or constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. These first three chapters I pumped out in about three days, but now that mid-term exams are coming up it will probably take a little longer for an update. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3 - Run

There were two of them now. He could sense them, even if he couldn't find them yet. There were times when they were close. He may have even walked by one of them already. No matter. He would catch up with them eventually. He even had one of their names. Oliver Gordon. Now he just had to find out where he lived. Then he would wait for his opportunity. He didn't know what Gordon could do, but that hardly mattered. He just wanted his power. He wanted it all.
Oliver Gordon, Matt Parkman & Mohinder Suresh, Torrington, Connecticut.

"Warn me? About what? What I can do?" Oliver asked.

"Partly," Mohinder replied, hesitating before continuing. Convincing him that he had powers was hard enough as it was. Convincing him that there was a predator out there who's only prey were those with abilities would be twice as difficult.

Matt, sensing Mohinder's reluctance to go on, decided to spare him the burden. "There is a man out there, a man named Sylar--"

"Like the watch?" Oliver asked.

"Yes, exactly like the watch," Mohinder replied.

"This Sylar," Matt continued, "has an ability, too. Well, he actually has a lot more now." Matt paused, considering how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "He's been... collecting."

"Collecting?" Oliver asked, his eyebrows shooting up. "You mean, you can collect these things?"

"It's not so much collecting as stealing," Mohinder muttered.

" I don't get it."

Tired of beating around the bush, Matt decided to tell all. If Oliver didn't believe them, Matt had brought proof along. "That man, Sylar. He kills people by ripping open their heads and stealing their brains. We don't know what he does after that, but he always ends up with the ability of his victim."

Oliver looked at them with open skepticism, a ghost of a mocking smile threatening to bloom. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, we're not kidding"

"Stop that," Oliver immediately responded. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that there is a man out there that rips people's heads open and eats their brains."

"He doesn't eat them. He just...steals them."

"Whatever. Same thing. Look," Oliver said, lifting his hands in a sign of exasperation. "I went along with your theory that I can control the weather, or whatever, and I honestly believe that you can read minds," he said to Mohinder and Matt, respectively, "but you have to be nuts if you think that there is some brain stealing maniac who somehow takes the abilities of other people. It's just crazy."

Mohinder and Matt looked at each other for a moment before Matt nodded. Mohinder placed his briefcase on the ground and rummaged through it for a moment before coming out with another file. He handed the file to Matt who opened it and took out a few sheets of paper.

"This is Charlene Andrews," he said, extending a photograph to Oliver.

She was pretty. Red hair, bright smile.

"This is Charlene after Sylar found her." He handed Oliver another picture.

"Oh, shit," Oliver said, flipping the picture over so he wouldn't have to look at the gruesome scene. She had been lying on the floor, the top quarter of her head gone, the brain removed.

"This is Nicholas Datre," Matt said, giving Oliver another picture.

He was tall, gruff and bearded. Looked like an outdoors man.

"And this is Nicholas after Sylar found him."

It was grizzly. Nicholas was on the floor, staring with blank eyes at the ceiling. His head was sliced open and his brain was missing.

"Mr. And Mrs. James Walker," Matt went on, unrelenting. He handed Oliver another photograph.

There were three people in this picture. Two adults, who Oliver assumed to be Mr. and Mrs. Walker, and a young girl. The next picture that Matt handed to him was almost too much.

There was the man in the previous photograph, dead. Not only was he dead, his head sliced off like the previous two, but he was also frozen solid, icicles forming at the tip of his nose and chin. Behind him, a woman, Mrs. Walker, was pinned to the staircase with a variety of objects - kitchen utensils, a pair of scissors, a screwdriver. Her head, though, was still intact.

"How come he didn't steal her brain?" Oliver asked quietly, as if speaking any louder would be disrespecting the dead.

"Mrs. Walker's DNA showed up negative for the genetic marker that I've told you about," Mohinder said. "He didn't have a reason to steal her brain, so he just killed her."

Oliver flipped back to the previous picture and looked at the little girl. He was almost afraid to ask. He didn't want to see a picture of a little girl with her head sawed off. "What about her? What about the girl? Did Sylar get to her, too?"

Matt and Mohinder exchanged glances before Matt responded. "No, she's safe. I worked that case personally. I found her underneath the stairs. She's being looked after."

Oliver nodded solemnly. This was proof enough for him. He handed the pictures back to Matt. "How do I protect myself against him?"

"You can't. Not really."

"What do you mean I can't defend myself?"

"He can stop bullets," Matt said, "with his mind. Believe me, I shot at him once and the bullets came flying back at me."

"So then what do I do if I see him?"

"You run," Mohinder said. "Not just for yourself, but for everybody you hold dear. Sylar is not a good man. If he gains your power he will use it to his advantage. He will use it to hunt down others like you so he can take their powers as well."

"What makes you so sure he's going to find me? I mean, there are three hundred million people in the United States. Why do you think he would come to Torrington, Connecticut of all places?"

"Because he's seen the list," Mohinder said softly, casting his eyes to the ground.

Matt continued when Mohinder faltered. "Mohinder has a list of people from all over the world who have this genetic marker. The list only has a name and the city they are in, though. No addresses, no pictures. So he knows you're in Torrington, but that's about it. We just want you to be prepared."

"Actually, we want a little more than just that," Mohinder chimed in. "I was hoping you could come back to New York with us."

"New York? Why do you want me to come to New York?"

"So I can document what you can do. Hopefully if I see how, why and when you exert influence on the weather I can help you to better understand how to control it."

Oliver took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was all insane. Yesterday he was like any other university student, drinking too much beer, falling asleep in class, eating cheeseburgers for breakfast. Now he was some sort of genetic anomaly who could control the weather and who had a brain stealing maniac after him. He ran his hand through his hair as he considered the offer. If he had Dr. Suresh and Officer Parkman around, maybe he would be safer than he would be here. New York had a lot of people in it. It would be easy to become completely anonymous in a city that big. It's not like he would be leaving much in Connecticut. Stanford was here, but he could always come and visit in New York. He could transfer schools, that wouldn't be a problem. The more he thought about it, the more is made sense.

"I'll tell you what," he finally said. "Finals are over in three weeks. I'll come to New York then."

Mohinder's face broke into a wide smile. "Excellent. Thank you. Don't worry about airfare. The flight is on me. Here, I have something for you before I go." He set his briefcase down again, reached in and pulled out a thick, blue book. "This book," he said, handing the book to Oliver, "may answer some of the questions you might have about your abilities. My home address, e-mail and phone numbers are written on the inside. Please feel free to call anytime if you have and questions."

Oliver looked down at the book and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, this could turn out to be a good thing after all. "Sure," he said, looking up. "I'll see you guys in three weeks, then?"

Mohinder nodded. "Three weeks it is. Until then."

"Stay safe," Matt added before they turned and walked away.

Oliver stood where he was for a few minutes, watching them leave. What a strange, strange day. The logical part of him contested that this was all ridiculous, that this was all just some sort of elaborate scam. His gut, though, and his heart told him differently. This was real. What was once apprehension had turned into a slight giddiness as he turned and headed back to The Cave. Stanford would get a real kick out of this.

When he made it to his room Stanford was still at his laptop. He turned around when Oliver entered. "Hey," he said with obvious concern. Like before, he didn't want to push the subject if Oliver didn't want to talk about it.

"Hi," Oliver replied simply.

There was a brief silence between them. Oliver wanted Stanford to ask, but Stanford didn't want to push. In the end, Stanford went for something that showed his concern, but wasn't intrusive. "Are you okay?"

Oliver smiled. "You might want to stay seated for what I'm about to tell you."

Stanford's face only grew more concerned. "Uh oh. That's not a good sign. It's never a good sign when somebody tells you to sit down. Might as well hit me with it."

Oliver's smile broadened as he sat down on his bed. "Okay, but trust me, you're probably not going to believe it."

Two Weeks Later

"Can I help you?" The girl behind the desk looked mildly disinterested.

"Yes. I'm looking for someone. Oliver Gordon. Do you know if he lives in this residence?"

The girl spun around on her chair and wheeled herself over to a cabinet. She opened the bottom drawer and began to flip through files until she found the one that she needed. "Uh...yeah, he lives here. Room C68, with Stanford Grant. Why?" She looked up, but the man was gone.

'Evolution is a matter of choice.

When a mutation is introduced, a decision is made.

Nature asks, "Does this new characteristic have value?"

"Does it represent progress?"

"Will it benefit the species?"'

Oliver hadn't had much time to read the book Mohinder had given him, but when he did he became completely engrossed in it's content. According to Dr. Chandra Suresh, Mohinder's father he presumed, there were countless others like him out there with abilities he couldn't even imagine. Apparently there were people who could fly, people who could spontaneously regenerate and people who could teleport themselves. It was incredibly fascinating. But alas, it would have to wait. Oliver looked over at the clock in The Cave. It was almost eight. He only had one exam left but he hadn't even started to study for it yet.

As Oliver grabbed the relevant textbooks and stuffed them into his backpack, he thought back on the night he had told Stanford about his genetic anomaly. At first he had been playfully reluctant to believe, but after Oliver repeated the correlations of his significant life events and the weather phenomena to follow, Stanford began to believe. Ever since then Stanford had been bugging him about the weather. "Why did you make it so cold out today?", "I could really use a day of sunshine, mutant boy!", "Dude, you should totally conjure up a snow storm! Think about it! We could have a snow day in the middle of April!"

Of course, his answer had always been the same: he couldn't actively control it. Not yet at least.

Oliver smirked at the recollection. He would miss Stanford this summer in New York. He always found a way to brighten his day. But that was still a week away. He still had that last exam to finish before he could start worrying about anything else. Stanford was already at the library. He was zipping up his bag, after placing Activating Evolution in with his textbooks, when the lights suddenly flickered and died out. A moment later the emergency pot lights turned on. Curious, Oliver swung the backpack over his shoulder, stepped out of The Cave and looked down the hall. Almost every room along the hallway had a head or two poking out, everybody wearing the same curious expression.

Then, there was a soft thud and a voice.

"Where is room C68?" The voice was deep, menacing and somewhat cold.

The answer came from a high-pitched, frightened voice. "It's...it's down that hallway! At the very end!"

Everybody in the hallway was silent, listening to the exchange. A few heads turned and stared at Oliver, the obvious occupant of room C68.

A figure appeared at the end of the hallway, nothing more than a mere silhouette. The figure raised his arm, cupping his hand in a gripping way. Oliver could feel a tightening around his neck. As the figure stepped forward, Oliver was flung harshly back against the wall, his legs dangling a few inches off of the ground, the tightening around his neck growing stronger. Within a few moments, the figure was in front of him, fixing him with a penetrating stare. Oliver instantly recognized him. He was that bastard who had run into him a few weeks ago. The man in the black hat. Oliver noticed something else, too, something that chilled his blood. The man had a watch on. A Sylar. Oliver connected the dots quickly. This was the man he was warned about. The man who kills people then steals their brains. Sylar, just like the watch.

"Do you live in room C68?" Sylar demanded.

Oliver shook his head.

Sylar flexed his outstretched hand and Oliver could feel the invisible grip on his neck tightening, robbing him of the air he lungs were begging for. "Don't lie to me!"

Oliver weakly nodded.

"Are you Oliver Gordon?" Sylar asked, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

Oliver shook his had again. The tightening continued. He could feel his lungs start to burn and he was beginning to feel dizzy.

"You're lying again, aren't you?"

Oliver shook his head, the pressure around his neck making tears fall from the corner of his eyes. To his surprise, the vice loosened enough for him to take a ragged breath.

"If you're not Oliver Gordon, then who are you?" Sylar asked. Oliver wasn't sure if he was playing games or asking a legitimate question, but he had to hope it was the latter.

"I'm.. I'm his roommate, Stanford. Stanford Grant," he choked out.

"Where is he?" Sylar asked, lifting Oliver away from the wall and bashing him back violently.

"Seventh floor. There's a study room up there. He's probably up there studying for his last exam," Oliver said, praying that Sylar didn't know that there really was no study room on the seventh floor. To his infinite relief, the vice around his neck weakened and he fell to the floor in a heap. Sylar stepped over his body and strode towards the stairwell. Once he disappeared, the lights flickered back on.

Oliver let out a few ragged coughs before looking up. Several of his floor mates had bravely stepped out of their rooms, a few of them actually made their way over to him.

"Are you okay?" one girl asked, a girl he only knew by the name Victoria. "What did that man want?"

Oliver didn't have time to answer. He needed to leave, the sooner the better. The seventh floor wasn't that far away and he didn't want to be around when Sylar found out there was no study room. He tried to stand but found that his legs were shaking quite violently. The girl, Victoria, helped him to his feet. After taking the briefest of moments to compose himself, he dashed towards the stairwell and began descending them, jumping down entire flights to save time. When he reached the ground floor he could see a small gathering of students at the front door, peering out into the night.

"It's so thick. I've never seen a fog like this before"

"When did this happen?"

"It just rolled in a minute ago. One second it was clear as water, the next it's like pea soup."

Oliver paid no attention to them as he shouldered his way through the crowd. He didn't even know what they were talking about. There was no fog. But that hardly mattered right now. Right now he needed to run, run as far away from here as he could. As he ran, he couldn't help but notice how strange everybody was acting. The few cars that were out were going extremely slowly. The pedestrians were either feeling their way along walls or walking around with their arms outstretched. But he didn't care, not now. Behind him, he could hear a sharp crash of windows shattering. He didn't need to turn around to know it came from the seventh floor of his residence building.

Oliver ran until his body refused to let him run anymore. He was well off campus now, but that didn't mean he was safe. He needed a plan, he needed a place to hide, he needed protection. A thought dawned on him then. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and placed it on the ground. He violently unzipped it and quickly filed through his books until he found the one he wanted, Activating Evolution. He lifted it from the bag and flipped open the front cover. There was Mohinder Suresh's information. His address, his e-mail and, most importantly, his phone number. Oliver quickly scanned the vicinity and spotted a payphone not too far away. He grabbed his bag and hurried over, easily dodging the confused looking people. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, dumping an excessive amount of coinage into his palm. He slid in the coins and dialed the numbers carefully. It began to ring. And ring. And ring. Oliver bit down on his lip as he waited for Mohinder to pick up. Unfortunately, the ringing only stopped when the voice mail clicked in.

"Hi, you've reached the cellphone of Dr. Mohinder Suresh. Please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as I can"

"Shit," Oliver muttered before he heard the tone. "Dr. Suresh. Hi. This is, uhm. This is Oliver Gordon. From Connecticut. I.. I think you need to come back. Now," he said as calmly as he could. "I'll be at that diner off campus we went to, okay? I'll be there all day so don't worry about that. Please hurry." Then, as an afterthought, "and bring that cop friend of yours as well."