Unsung Heroes
By: Romako and SkyRogue
Chapter 8: The Bomb Part II
AN's
Sorry for the slow updates people. Life has a tendency to get in the way. I think it's safe to say that updates will be more frequent now that classes have let out for awhile
As thanks for your patience readers, here's a mega chapter for you all!
I don't own Heroes; they're the property of NBC and T. Kring. I do own the characters Letalis and Tabibito.
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NYC-Isaac's Loft
Zach had spent the last few minutes pacing back and forth behind the computer chair Micah was in. He wished he could've gone with Claire and the others, the memory of what that Sylar freak had done to Jackie was still pretty fresh. It very well could have been Claire that time.
Deep down, Zach knew he'd be of no use to them this time. He was still not 100 and their enemy had power beyond most people's….
"Would you stop pacing around already? You're going to trip over a cord or something!"
"Sorry, I'm just worried about Claire."
"Why? Claire's the one that's like Wolverine right? She's basically indestructible."
"It's….um…kind of complicated."
Zach shuffled away leaving Micah to work his magic with the computer. He didn't feel like getting into his emotions with someone so young. Isaac had wandered off to his main work area earlier in the afternoon, maybe he had come up with something interesting.
The first thing Zach noticed when he entered Isaac's painting area was that it was freezing. Isaac was busy painting what was clearly an old fashioned monastery. The pointed architecture and blooming Sakura trees reminded Zach of scenes he'd seen in old samurai movies. What was weird was that the whole painting was smudged. Anyone could tell what it was if they squinted, but it was as if Isaac himself couldn't exactly see what he was trying to paint.
After the painting was done, Isaac moved to the lower right portion of the painting and scribbled something that Zach assumed was his signature. When he looked closer though, it turned out to be a combination of letters and numbers that resembled coordinates. Since when is Isaac able to be so specific?
Apparently Isaac was wondering the same thing. When he came out of the trance, and the temperature of the room rose significantly, he looked at the coordinates with confusion.
"Looks like your power's growing, Isaac."
"I guess so; I've never been able to pinpoint exact locations like that."
"So, do you see all of this as you're painting it? Are you even aware of any of this when you're in that trance?"
"Yeah, when I start to paint it's like I'm floating above whatever I'm painting. My body moves on its own, recording what my eyes see. This time was different though. I couldn't even see much of it, like there was a barrier."
"Then how could you paint such an accurate picture?"
"I…I think I was being guided…"
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Isaac's loft
Tabibito
Indeed painter, you have been guided. Let us hope it is enough to see you safely to our sanctuary.
The old man had been standing behind Isaac the whole time he was in a trance. The power of spiritual projection was truly a gift from the Father, without it Tabibito would never be able to guide these gifted ones to the sanctuary or to keep up with all that was happening in the world. His travels throughout the world via spiritual projection indicated that it was time for them to fall back to the monastery.
If the painter or the other one had been able to see him, Tabibito guessed they would have been rather shocked. In his physical form, Tabibito was hardly an ominous looking man, but the surprise would be entertaining. At a mere 5 feet 7 inches, his bald head was creased with wrinkles and his blue eyes held the pools of sadness and regret that come with living a life of responsibility. His body, however, was sturdier and more battle-scarred than any man his age thanks to the training regimen he applied to himself and his monks.
The world was traveling down a dark path, and he knew the bomb was just the start. These gifted individuals must be trained, without help they were like children wielding katanas: more likely to harm others and themselves than to help. He was breaking his own rules by guiding them, but it was for the greater good.
Father on high, guide these gifted, wandering souls, that they may reach safety and serve your purpose…
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Graymalkin General-NYC
It felt like water. Like a thin layer of pure wetness, and D.L. could never shake the clingy, damp, wet spiderweb feeling he got each time after stepping through something, which is what caused the barely perceptible shudder from him as he emerged on the other side of the hospital wall.
He opened his eyes, and saw a scruffy looking man in flannel craning his neck after a shoe that had just disappeared around the corner. D.L. sucked in a breath. That was way too close.
As soon as the shoe disappeared completely and the loud, echoing footsteps had died a bit on the air, the man (Ted, he was pretty sure) began frantically straining his hands behind his back, tying to get them free from the ropes. D.L. quickly stepped forward and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Holy Jesus!" Ted exclaimed, but D.L. immediately shushed him.
"Hey, man, it's Ted, right? Just stay calm and I'll get you out of this mess."
"Who the hell are you?" Ted asked, shocked.
"I'm D.L. I'm here with some people called Matt, Peter, and Claire. Know them?" He whispered as he deliberated on how best to free Ted. He'd never phased two people at once, so he thought he'd go with the traditional way of just plain untying.
"Oh, thanks for taking so damn long. I thought I'd starve to death before one of you guys showed up." Ted said as he rolled his eyes and visibly relaxed.
"And you're going to wish that was the case by the time I'm done with you." Said a menacing voice from a man framed in the doorway.
Oh shit. Was D.L.'s last thought before he and Ted were slammed violently into the wall with a wave of Sylar's hand.
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"Ok, seriously, this is taking way too long." Claire said, exasperated.
"Do you think something went wrong?" asked Peter with a worried look on his face. Claire looked at him in surprise; after all, he was the one that had been insisting that she be patient for the last ten minutes of waiting on D.L.
"Yes." Claire deadpanned, "And it looks like I'm the only one willing to do something about it." And with that she stood up and made off for the street, brushing her clothes off as she walked. Peter started, then quickly followed her and grabbed her arm.
"Claire-"
"No, Peter!" She hissed as she yanked her arm out of his grip. Peter was shocked. He had never seen this side of Claire before. "I'm sick of being 'just a cheerleader.' It's time I did something useful." She called over her shoulder as she left the alley.
Peter stared after her for a moment before he turned to look desperately at Matt and The Haitian. They both gave him blank looks that stated clearly they had no idea how to handle teenage girls.
"Well? You gonna go get her?" Matt said.
Peter rolled his eyes before jogging after Claire.
He found her jiggling the handle on the doors to the hospital.
"Claire!" He shouted, then immediately caught himself and whispered, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Something." She stated simply, and with one more violent jangle the door screeched open suddenly and Peter cringed at the noise.
"C'mon, Claire, come back to the dumpster before you get yourself killed!"
Claire gave a harsh laugh. "Killed? But I can't die, remember?"
Peter watched in disbelief as she walked confidently into the dark building. He barely had to argue with himself before he followed.
"Claire!" He said in a hushed tone.
"C'mon, Peter, go back to the dumpster before you get yourself killed!" She whispered mockingly back at him. Peter wanted to scratch his head in puzzlement. What was wrong with her? She was never like this!
If Claire was at all afraid of their cobwebbed surroundings, she didn't show it. Peter watched her pause briefly at the T of the hall before she suddenly turned right and he lost sight of her for a few moments before he too rounded the corner.
Suddenly, Claire slowed to a crawling pace. She brought her hands up to her face slowly, and Peter could hear her small gasps of breath.
"Claire?" Peter asked, alarmed. "Claire, are you ok?"
She didn't answer.
"Claire!" Peter forgot to whisper as he broke into a run, hand outstrected, and then-
"AAHHHHCHOO!"
Claire let out a bellowing sneeze.
Peter couldn't help himself. He slowed to a stop and let his hand drop, just missing her shoulder. For the life of him, he couldn't contain a short laugh, which he immediately regretted.
Angrily, Claire spun on him.
"Now just because you don't have to deal with stupid allergies doesn't mean you can-"
Claire's voice ended in a gasp and suddenly she was gone, pulled viciously by a hand through a door to the left. Peter's mouth dropped in shock. He hadn't even seen the door open. He hadn't seen it, he hadn't been able to warn her, he had brought her here, and it was his fault.
It was his fault Claire was taken.
His shock turned to anger. Anger because he knew who had taken her, and he didn't like it one bit.
Sylar.
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The halls echoed with Claire's screams, and it only took Peter a second to pull his hands out of his pockets and lunge towards the door she had just disappeared in moments ago. He brought down his fist on the door hard and relished the shudder it produced. He could only scream Claire's name once, however, before the lights in the hospital were shut off with an ominous mechanical noise.
Instantly he was provoked into defense. It was silent. Claire's screams ended with the lights, and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.
His eyes were peeled open to the maximum, fighting for any light they could receive. He pushed off the door and placed his back against the wall, head spinning, looking. He moved down the wall towards the way he and Claire were going before, maybe he could at least find D.L. or Ted. Claire would be ok.
Wouldn't she?
He slid down the hall, trembling, shaking, his eyes shooting to random corners, looking for enemies that weren't there.
The creaking of a door opening reached his ears.
It was from the general area of where he last saw Claire.
Against his better judgment, he sprung from the wall and his only source of guidance with fists raised.
"Claire? Please tell me that's you…" And even while he said this he knew it wasn't Claire.
"Guess again, Peter."
Oh great.
This was it. Sylar was here. It was the final showdown. Right?
Peter tried to steel himself for the fight to come. He focused in on the spot where he heard Sylar's voice come from, but it was no good. He couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness.
"Come on, Sylar. I know it's you. Why don't you quit hiding and show yourself?!" He yelled to the darkness.
"I don't think I want to." This time, Sylar's voice came from behind him, and Peter spun wildly to protect his back.
"Where are you?" He said.
"I'm over here-" To the left-
"And I'm here-" Behind him-
"And here-" Right-
"And HERE!" And with that, Sylar was right in Peter's face, then before Peter could even register what just happened, he was thrown viciously backwards down the hall.
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"Do you think they're alright?" Matt asked the man they called The Haitian.
He shrugged and Matt scoffed.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" Another shrug. Finally Matt had it. This guy was seriously boring company.
"Ok, well, if you're not gonna say anything, I think I should go in there and make sure everyone's ok. I'm plan C aren't I?"
The Haitian shrugged and with an exasperated sigh, Matt stood and left the alley to step into Graymalkin General
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When he finally slid to a halt, Peter sprang to his feet and shook the hair from his eyes.
He could hear Sylar's staccato footsteps quite close, actually, and he barely saw his menacing face emerge from the darkness inches away before his felt the impact of a fist to his stomach. Peter involuntarily doubled over and received a knee to the face.
Once again Peter found himself on the ground and tried quickly to stand up, letting Claire's regeneration take care of his broken nose, but it was too late.
Sylar had again disappeared in the eternal darkness around him. Peter did not relax, however. His temper was bright and flaring, and he wasn't going to give up without one hell of a fight.
Eyes and ears peeled, Peter spun in a slow circle with his fists high, ready to jump at the slightest sound. He quickly decided to use Sylar's very own telekinesis against him, and slowly and silently lifted a stray gurney in the air to hover nearby.
And then Peter heard footsteps. They were slow, they were quiet. They were sneaky. They were Sylar's kind of footsteps. He immediately tuned in to pinpoint their location and-
"Peter-"
-that's all he needed.
But, even as Peter recognized Matt's voice, he had already flung the gurney upon the first syllable he heard, and he prematurely cringed before he even heard the crash.
As soon as the clattering stopped, Peter rushed over to Matt's body. He fell to his knees and felt the ground ahead until he caught hold of a shoe. It was Matt's!
He heaved the gurney off of him and shook his friend's shoulder.
"Matt! Matt? You there? C'mon, man, wake up."
Peter quickly checked for a pulse and wasn't very surprised to find him alive. Being slammed by a flying gurney may knock you out, but it surely wasn't fatal. Still, Peter felt guilty. Here Matt had come in to help him, and instead got a nasty headache and unnecessary concussion courtesy of friendly fire. Peter moved back to sit on his heels and rubbed a hand over his face, still leaving one on Matt's wrist. Suddenly clapping cut through the silence.
"Wow, Peter. Bravo!" It was Sylar, and he was laughing.
Peter shot to his feet as if he was spring loaded and without any type of warning picked up the very same gurney with his mind and shot it at Sylar like a gigantic bullet.
Sylar barely ducked in time, but the misdirected gurney hit instead a boarded up window and succeeded in knocking the plywood off its mount, therefore letting the moon and streetlights shine inside. Sylar was caught in the spotlight and Peter could see him as he straightened up with fury in his eyes.
Sylar then lifted a hand to fling a set of shelves at Peter, which he narrowly dodged with the help of his telekinesis. It was followed by an IV pole, then a pillow, then a crutch, and then Peter had enough and tossed the crutch right back at him. It hit Sylar in the head.
Sylar was momentarily stunned, and Peter used the time to pick up the first thing he saw, which happened to be a sheet, and flung it at him. It landed right on top of him, and it looked like Sylar was getting tangled in it. Seeing his advantage, Peter threw another sheet, then another, and another, until Sylar was leaning against the wall, wrapped in sheets, caught dead in a spotlight.
For a moment Peter thought he had the upper hand.
"What's the matter, Sylar? Are you all tied up?"
With an angry roar, the sheets billowed off of Sylar and landed in heaps about him. He fiercely threw out his hand and Peter was forced to turn tail and run from the shelves that could suddenly walk.
Behind him a path of destruction was leaving its mark, shelves and gurneys and mountains of sheets toppling over in his wake. The boards over the windows were also bursting off their nails and letting in more light. Peter could see Sylar floating in the air, following the turmoil of his own creation.
Peter had to do something. He was already starting to tire. Damn. I knew I should've done sports in high school!
He had to do something! He couldn't let Sylar run him like cattle through this whole hospital! He had passed the T intersection just a while ago, and he didn't know how far this hospital went before it dead ended.
Frantically, Peter thought of an ability he could use. Nothing was coming up.
Panicking now, because he could see the end of the hall in the pale light, Peter just turned over his shoulder and thought of getting rid of Sylar with his arm extended.
While he was focusing on Sylar, he felt a new power run through him. He had no idea what it was, just that it made him feel like there was ice in his veins. It was so cold it forced the air out his lungs, air that was apparently frozen.
Molecules froze before his eyes, they froze to form small spheres of pure ice, and without further thought Peter stopped, turned around, and pushed them at Sylar.
He could see the surprise on Sylar's face as the multiple ice globes rushed towards him, and watched with satisfaction as they hit him hard in the air and Sylar lost control and tumbled to the ground.
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Claire was stuck to a wall.
Stuck to a wall with a friggin' IV pole through her stomach.
She had at first been terrified when Sylar had dragged her into this operating room. She had thought he was going to cut her head open and kill her for good, just like he did to Jackie. She was so terrified she began to scream. But then, just as he was about to, he heard Peter bang on the door, and he took a second's deliberation before he was apparently decided, and suddenly she was flung to the nearest wall and a silver rod was flying towards her at top speed.
When it hit her, she stopped screaming, and the lights went out. She was shocked. She had just been pinned to a wall with a huge pole, and God did it hurt. Sylar came up close to her and into her ear whispered, "I'll be back." She couldn't help it. She was a '90s kid and she instantly thought of The Terminator.
This was Claire's last thought before she fainted.
When she finally came to, she was still stuck to the wall. This time, however, it was noisy. Very noisy. She could barely make out Peter's voice before it was overridden by a roar and then major amounts of clattering.
This brought her to where she was now.
Claire was trying to figure out how to get off this damn pole. It wasn't easy. Just touching it sent lightning bolts of pain through her body, but the sounds of Peter and Sylar were fading, and she needed to get off. At least she could touch the ground with her tip-toes. Finally, she decided to just do it. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, wrapped her hand around the pole, and pulled as hard as she could.
Finally, she fell to the floor. The pole wasn't out of her stomach, but at least she was off the wall. The impact on the floor jarred the pole around a little bit, and Claire had to sit for a while to adjust. Then, like ripping off a band aid, she yanked the pole out of her and let it clatter on the floor.
Her blood was flowing freely out of her wound, the first time in a while she had seen anything like that on herself, and Claire let herself slump against the wall with her hands around it as if she was trying to pool the blood on her stomach. Fairly quickly, the bleeding stopped and she wiped the blood away to see unmarred skin. Relieved, she stood and limped to the door. Her insides still felt a little disjointed, as if they were having a hard time catching up with her skin. By the time she got the door open, however, all pain was gone. She straightened up, wiped off her hands, and stepped into the hallway.
It was barely light enough to see. Even with the open window she could've sworn wasn't there before Claire couldn't see three feet ahead of her.
Instinctively, Claire turned to go right, back to the T intersection of halls, but then she stopped herself. She had just remembered what was in the other direction. What she had come here for.
D.L. and Ted.
She looked left, and then turned back right. In the distance she could hear the noise of fighting, Peter and Sylar, no doubt.
As much as she wanted to go help Peter duke it out with Sylar, Claire knew that she wouldn't be much help. In fact, she'd be more of a hindrance. She'd distract Peter from his task of kicking some serious serial killer ass and she might possibly be caught by Sylar and give him her power, which wouldn't be good for anyone.
Well, except for Sylar, of course.
The more Claire thought about it, the more she was sure. She had to go left. She had to go help Ted and D.L. Peter could handle himself, but the others needed her.
With new determination, Claire turned and set off down the hall, to the left.
Before she gracefully tripped over a body on the ground.
At first she was scared. Which of her friends was laying prone on the floor of the hospital in the wake of Sylar? As she frantically searched for a face or a wrist, and found a wrist and a pulse first, her fear subsided. Now she felt in the semi-dark for a face, and when she found one, she ran her fingers over it and squinted to make it out before…
"Matt!" She whispered. She didn't really know why she was whispering, but Graymalkin General just had that effect on her. She whispered almost as if she was showing reverence for the dead.
"Matt, wake up!" And she lightly slapped his face. He groggily moaned and raised an arm in the air while Claire let out a sigh of relief.
"Wha? What's going on? Claire?" He asked, his speech slightly slurred.
"Yeah, it's me. Come on, we gotta get you out of here." And with that Claire pulled Matt's arm around her shoulders and tried her best to lift him up. It wasn't working.
"Matt, you're going to have to help me out here." And so he did the best he could, at least to get on his feet. From there, Claire guided him a few stumbling steps forward on her previous path. It only took a while for her to get the hang of it and begin on much more confident strides.
"What are we doing?"
"We're saving our friends."
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Peter was panting. Using such a new power took a lot out of him, and for a brief moment of happiness he was sure Sylar was down for the count, but Peter groaned as Sylar pushed himself up.
Sylar stood with a smile on his face, barely concealing his surprise at Peter prowess in the new ability.
"Is that all you can do? And here I was expecting a challenge." Sylar scoffed.
Once again the anger rose up in Peter's throat, but instead of voicing it he bottled it down and disappeared.
Literally.
Sylar rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on, Peter. You can't hide from me." When he got no response, he raised a finger and the lights flickered back on with the noise of electricity.
Sylar smiled when Peter was still nowhere to be found.
"Ah. Invisibility. I can't wait to try that one out."
Revolving in a slow semi-circle, Sylar suddenly stopped and his face went grim.
"Now, Peter. Didn't I already tell you? You can't hide from me. I can hear you."
And with that, Sylar cocked his head to the side, listening. He could hear a heartbeat. It was coming from right… over…
"There!" And Sylar raised his arm and shot it forward.
Seven syringes flew at high speeds to an area by the wall.
Peter screamed when the syringe pierced his shoulder, and just after he could reach up and pull it out, he was pushed by an invisible force around his neck against the wall. He hit it hard with the force of all of Sylar's anger behind it, and then he slid loudly up until his feet could no longer feel the floor. Before he could think Sylar was only feet away, but Peter could feel pressure on his throat as if Sylar himself was holding him in a chokehold.
Sylar could see the fear in Peter's face. The way his lip twitched, the way his eyes widened, he was terrified.
And Sylar relished it.
He had him right where he wanted him… All he had to do now was to saw the top of his head off and Peter's powers were his for the taking. No more would he be forced to kill.
Wait… He wouldn't have to kill anymore.
Did he want that?
No, he didn't. Sylar enjoyed the killing. Sylar enjoyed the thrill of the chase. Sylar enjoyed the rush he felt when he knew he was responsible for the ending of another's life.
At first killing was an obstacle, a hurdle to overcome, for the greater good, of becoming special. At least it was for Gabriel.
It had just been Gabriel at the start. The first kill, the murder of Brian, was an act of passion, of instinct. He realized the path and took the first road he saw towards it. It had been Gabriel then. It had been Gabriel calling himself a silly name.
The second kill was Gabriel as well. It was an act of vengeance. Suresh hadn't believed in him. He had raised his hopes so high only to bring them crashing down around his feet. For that, he needed to pay.
It wasn't until the third kill did he truly become Sylar. It was the first time he had killed for pleasure and driven completely by the greed in his heart.
He had been walking down the streets of New York, still dressed and acting as a normal man. Nothing special to him at all. But inside, he was churning. Every single moment he wanted to burst out and use his new found power. He wanted the world to know, but he couldn't. He was a murderer, and if anyone found out about his secret, he would be sent to jail. Gabriel was too soft for jail.
But then, as he rounded the corner, he felt a tingling on the inside. It was the same feeling he got when he first met Brian. Someone special was nearby.
He wanted their power immediately, but Gabriel stopped him. Suresh was dead, he had a power, he was special, and that was all he wanted. But for Sylar, it wasn't enough. There was someone out there with a power as well. Someone who might be just as special as him, or worse, they could be MORE! He had to eliminate them, he had to take their power into his fold and increase his own status. It was a hard inner battle, but eventually the blood lust won over. It was too much when a middle aged brunette woman got too close to him and lightly brushed his shoulder. It felt like he had been frozen.
Ah. Ice.
He leapt on her like a lion on the prowl, it was late, and no one was around. He pushed her into the alley thinking only of blood gushing through his fingers, of flesh littering the ground. He did what came natural, and soon her scalp was broken on the pavement, and Sylar was practicing freezing a dumpster.
That night, Gabriel suffered. He was guilty of what he had done. He knew that something was wrong inside of him, and he stayed locked in his watch shop for a long time, but eventually he ventured out, and Sylar emerged again. He killed again. And again. And again. And each time he spilled the blood of another, he grew stronger, until Gabriel was nothing but a distant memory.
And so now, looking at Peter, he saw what could be the opening Gabriel needed to resurface. He would lose his excuse to murder, to kill, to rip, and Gabriel would return and force him down forever.
No, he couldn't kill Peter Petrelli. Not now. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't strong enough to hold down Gabriel when he had a glimmer of doubt in their cause.
So, Sylar let Peter fall to a heap on the ground, seconds away from suffocating, to cough feebly on his own, while he spun, lifted himself up, and flew away in the opposite direction.
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Sylar landed just after he passed the T hallway. He briskly walked down the brightly lit hall, his blood flaring after the close call with Peter. That's when he remembered Claire
He had left her pinned to a wall while he went after Peter, more important Peter. Oh, how wrong he had been. He was back on track now, however, and he would kill her to satisfy his hunger. Smiling, he swung open the door…
…to find the room empty. The bright light bounced off the large puddle of blood on the floor, and after a short examination, he knew it was just this side of fresh. Angrily, he slammed the door behind him and closed his eyes.
He could feel the tingle, it was them. Four of them, how wonderful! There was a simple mind reader, he could tell by the presence of mind he felt, Claire would be there of course, then Ted and the man from earlier.
Quite the jackpot.
Sylar knew that if he followed good strategy, he should go for Claire first, but his taste buds told him otherwise.
He wanted Ted.
He could feel it from here, there was so much raw power behind that specimen. So much pure destructive energy, and he wanted it, badly. He had to put every single atom of will power he possessed to work when Letalis forbade him to take his power, but now he was escaping, and wouldn't Letalis rather have Ted's power than nothing?
With new determination, Sylar turned left and continued down the hall towards the room where D.L. and Ted were kept.
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"Hey, wake up!" Ted whispered loudly to D.L.
Sylar had left them quite a while ago, but D.L. was still unconscious somewhere behind him. Ted was still tied to the chair, but it was tipped over.
He was very uncomfortable.
Ted badly wanted to use his radioactive power burn through his binds, but he didn't know how close D.L. was and didn't want to burn him or give him some kind of radiation poisoning, like he did his wife.
He quickly pushed that thought away and tried again to wake D.L. with his voice.
"Man, c'mon!"
Ted squeaked in fright when the lights suddenly flickered back on. They had been out for a long time. He wondered what was going on.
Just a few seconds later, the door creaked open. Ted closed his eyes and tensed. He fully expected to be Sylar complaining about a rat problem.
But instead, a sweet voice floated to his ears.
"Are y'all alright?"
His eyes shot open.
"Claire! And Matt! Thank God you're here." He said in excitement, "Now can you get us out of here?"
"That's what we're here for." She said with a smile and moved forward to help Ted out of his binds. Matt leaned against the wall for support after Claire left him.
"Matt, you ok?" asked Ted.
"I'm fine, just a little dizzy."
"That's not good." Ted frowned. Finally I'm free! He immediately leapt up and stretched. "You have NO idea how long I've been there! I just want to get out of here, as fast as I can."
"So what happened here?" Claire asked, already kneeling beside D.L.
"Sylar. He caught this one trying to rescue me."
"D.L… D.L…" She said while shaking his shoulder. She sighed, "It's not working."
Ted thought for a moment and then said, "Hey Matt, you do that mind-reading thingy, right?"
Matt looked dubious. "Yeah?"
"Well… Do you think you could…mind-jolt him or something? Wake him up?"
"I don't know, I haven't ever done that before… But I guess I could try."
And with that, from his perch against the wall, Matt closed his eyes and concentrated. He quickly pushed past Ted and Claire's surface thoughts and felt for something more subtle. He could feel it, now. There was a low pulse of brain power hidden under layers of silence. He mentally dove on it, and it felt almost like he hooked it up with a rope and was pulling it to the surface… He was almost there… He got it!
Matt opened his eyes simultaneously with D.L. and they both gasped for air as if they had just gone for a long swim.
"You did it!" Claire said to Matt, smiling up at him.
"No… no… we gotta go, NOW!" Matt said, surprising them all and jumping off the wall.
"Where's the fire?" Ted asked sarcastically.
"Right down that hall, and coming this way!"
"What are you talking about?" Claire asked, scared.
"Right before I came back, I felt… I felt another mind. I think it was Sylar. D.L., you need to phase us out the way you came."
"I've never phased two people at once." D.L. said, coughing still from his trip into the realm of unconsciousness.
"Well, we're all doing something new tonight, you need to try."
"But we could end up inside the wall or something."
"Better than letting Sylar get us."
D.L. nodded at that and stood up with Claire's help.
"Alright, we'll go one at a time. D.L., you take Ted out first, then come back and get Claire. I'll go last."
"Are you sure?" Claire cut in.
"Definitely. Now, we need to hurry!"
D.L., who was now much more stable than he had been at first, grabbed onto Ted's arm and stepped towards the wall.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, man, I did not sign up for this!" Ted said as he put the brakes on his heels.
"Ted, you gotta go or else Sylar gets your power and we all die! Come on! Man up!" D.L. said firmly. Ted didn't dare protest again and instead closed his eyes tight and allowed D.L. to pull him through the wall.
When he emerged on the other side, he immediately shivered.
"That was just about the weirdest thing I've ever done." He said.
"Seriously?" asked D.L., almost incredulous.
"Well, no, actually, now that I think about it."
"I thought so. Now, you just stay right here, I'll be right back with Claire and Matt and then we'll all go together."
Ted said nothing in response
"You got that?" D.L. tried to confirm.
"Yeah, yeah, just go get Claire and Matt." Reluctantly, D.L. stepped back through the wall, and much like what D.L. had feared, Ted waited a second after he had disappeared before he turned and began to walk out of the alley.
"Screw that, I'm out of here." He said to himself before breaking into a run.
Ted Sprague had just made the worst decision of his life.
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Post Author's Notes:
Imaginary bonus points to anyone who can figure out why I called the monk "Tabibito"!
I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, the meat and potatoes of which came from SkyRogue. Don't forget to drop a few reviews for her battle scene
SkyRogue says: Yes, please!
Chapter 9 Preview: The Bomb Finale
The Bomb finally goes off; will it be Sylar or Peter? Will either survive? How will it affect NYC?
All these questions will be answered soon. Stay tuned in loyal readers!