"Rebellion has always been in the nature of mankind. When oppressed, someone can only do one of two things: submit, or resist. It usually starts as something small, a spoken word that usually would have gone unspoken, leaping with no concern for your own wellbeing to the defence of another. It doesn't take long for those little things to escalate into a punch, a full-blown assault, maybe even a murder; something that makes your position known to others. Hatred is a powerful seed."

---

"We're both stuck here, Peter. There's nothing you can do."

Peter spared a second to shoot an annoyed glare at Sylar, before continuing to walk around the elevator shaft. Sylar hadn't been lying when he told Peter they were trapped, but Peter had never doubted his word in the first place. He just wanted to see it with his own eyes. If Sylar had managed to find a way out of this place, he would have taken it.

His eyes passed over the thick cables that connected to the elevator's pulley system. It wouldn't be a problem to climb up them, but such an effort would only be in vain, there was no way he could fit through the hole that led to the actual elevator shaft. This place here was probably just for maintenance….

Peter quickly glanced up and scanned the ceiling. This was the elevator's maintenance shaft! There had to be a way to get into the actual shaft.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked. He sounded frustrated, and not at all very eager.

"This is a maintenance shaft, Sylar." Peter replied. "If the pulley system gets damaged, they have to get in here somehow." A slow grin spread across his face as he lifted a finger and pointed at a narrow yellow trapdoor near the edge of the shaft's roof. "There." It was far above his head, there was no way to reach it without climbing up on something.

He felt Sylar move to stand beside him. "Yeah, only there's one small problem, Peter." Sylar said sardonically. "How are we meant to reach that?"

Peter ignored Sylar's comment and walked forward until he stood directly under the trapdoor. "There should be ladder here. It's standard procedure."

"Procedure hasn't exactly been one of Omicron's values, if you hadn't noticed."

"Shut up. I'm trying to think." Peter replied absently.

"Great. Now I'm really reassured."

Peter shot Sylar a dangerous look before proceeding to look around for something to stand on. Sylar was really pissing him off. He didn't know what had been done to the serial-killer here, but whatever it was; it had been enough to make him give up. Peter gritted his teeth. He wouldn't stop fighting. He couldn't.

He stopped searching and groaned inwardly. He glanced at Sylar and sighed in frustration. He would give anything not to have to ask this. "You've gotta give me a boost." Peter asked reluctantly.

Sylar looked at him in surprise, then threw back his head and laughed. "You really want to get out of this place, don't you? You must be squirming, having to ask me for help."

"Do you want to get out of this place or not? I thought you would be leaping at the chance to get free." Peter smiled and let a derisive note enter his voice. "You've got the chance to stop being Omicron's guinea pig and you don't even want to take the chance. You're getting soft!"

Sylar stepped towards him, his face contorting with anger. For a moment, Peter thought that he was going to get punched again. "Fine, but you're not standing on my shoulders."

Peter's grin widened briefly as Sylar scowled at him. "Okay."

Sylar rolled his eyes and bent down slightly, holding his hands together directly under the trapdoor. Peter stepped forward and placed his left foot on Sylar's outstretched hands. He was surprised that Sylar was helping, before Omicron started this war, Sylar was more likely to scalp Peter than help him. He was hiding it well, but Peter knew that Sylar was border-lining on outright desperation.

"On three, alright?" Peter said as he reached out with his left hand and placed his palm flat against the wall. This would be a lot easier if he could just stand on Sylar's shoulders.

Sylar grunted in confirmation. "Let's just get this over with!"

Peter nodded. "Okay. One. Two—" he abruptly cut off as Sylar pushed his foot up, nearly throwing him completely off balance. He was shaky as it was. "What the hell was that!?" he shouted angrily down at Sylar. "I said on three, not whenever you felt like it!"

Sylar smirked up at him. "Try to balance next time, Peter. I can't do this all day."

"Bastard!" Peter grumbled as he steadied himself with his left hand and reached towards the trapdoor with his right. It was still a little out of reach. "A little higher." Peter called down.

"Hurry up and open the door!" Sylar shouted as he complied. His voice sounded strange, distorted by the effort required to push Peter up. "You're not exactly light!"

"It's all muscle." Peter muttered under his breath as he reached up with his right hand and grabbed the trapdoor's metal handle. Peter frowned as he pushed up on the trapdoor. They usually pulled open from the other side, but this one wasn't budging. He pulled down on the handle, grinning with satisfaction as the trapdoor creaked open. He was just thankful that this didn't have a lock on it otherwise Peter was sure that Sylar would drop him then and there.

A sharp sliding sound captured Peter's attention as he pulled the trapdoor open even further. It sounded like metal, he knew that, but what was it? Suddenly something fell through the opening, startling Peter and throwing him completely off balance. He toppled back, gasping reflexively as he struck the hard ground with a heavy thud.

He blinked and rubbed the back of his head tenderly as he cautiously raised himself off the ground. It was going to bruise; yet another one to add to his growing collection of injuries.

Peter noticed Sylar was limping as he managed to shake away the sudden blurriness that entered his eyes. He turned his attention back to the trapdoor and noticed a rusted steel ladder hanging down from the opening. It hung all the way down to the ground and suddenly the source of Sylar's limp became clear.

He stood up and glanced at Sylar, who was muttering choice swear-words under his breath. Peter shook his head and ignored Sylar as he approached the ladder and tested the bottom rung with his foot. "It's stable." He said, more to himself than to Sylar. He began to climb, all too away of the steady stream of air flowing through the opening. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before.

It didn't take long before Peter was pulling himself through the open trapdoor and was staring around the elevator shaft. The elevator was high above him; he'd have plenty of warning before the elevator began moving down. Peter pulled his legs from out of the trapdoor and called back down to Sylar, "You coming?" he put a hint of a challenge into his voice. Just because they were working together, didn't mean they were about to become friends.

Sylar's face peered up at him; he had obviously picked up on the challenge hidden in Peter's voice.

Peter looked away from the opening and stood up. Vents similar to the one he had first crawled through were positioned orderly up and down the shaft; one above each door, seemingly hanging in space.

"We don't need to go up." Sylar said as he reached the top of the ladder and pulled himself through the opening. "There are research laboratories are on the third and fourth floors, but the biggest one is on this floor. The rest are all cells."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been here for two years." Sylar said through gritted teeth; it was all he needed to say. "We need our powers back. They've got a drug that reverses the effects of the injections. And then…." Sylar grinned.

"And then what." He knew what Sylar was going to say, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I'm going to blow this place apart."

"Great. You mind waiting to do that until I find Elle and Claire and get them out first?"

Sylar didn't reply; he just looked at Peter with a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down Peter's spine. Sylar wouldn't take his chances. The moment he got his abilities back, no one was going to stop his from taking his revenge. Peter knew it, and he wasn't even sure if he could stop him. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

"How did they get you?" Peter asked as he watched Sylar pace the shaft. The elevator had started moving, but stopped again way above their heads.

"'Get me'?" Sylar asked. He didn't pause in his movements. "It was a couple of weeks after I killed that idiot Flint. I didn't know how they found me, at least until I heard that they had Molly Walker – should have taken care of her when I had the chance."

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked. Sylar was pushing at another vent, before spinning slightly and closing his eyes. He was trying to figure out which way the research lab was, Peter knew that much.

"She was a child, Peter, forgive me for not being completely heartless. But then Hanson and Parkman came and I didn't get another chance." Sylar nodded to himself and began fiddling with the vent's cover, grunting in satisfaction as it fell away from the vent with a heavy thud. He clambered into the vent, quickly disappearing from view.

Peter followed him, climbing into the vent and crawling after Sylar on his belly. "They attacked us on Halloween; stormed through my house. Elle was there, she tried to fight them off, but they did something to her. She wouldn't wake up."

"How do you know it was them who did it to her?" Sylar asked. His tone told Peter he didn't care, but Peter ignored it. He needed to talk.

"Who else could it have been?"

"There are people out there who do things like that – make people sleep. I ran into one not long before I… ran…into Flint. It's the only reason why I don't have that particularly useful ability."

"You let someone get the best of you?" Peter mocked. He managed to keep it out of his voice, but anger was filling his body. Could someone have really done that to Elle? Her sleep wasn't normal. It couldn't be explained.

Sylar stopped suddenly and glared at Peter over his shoulder. "I didn't let him do it. What about you? Did you let Elle get injured? Did you let Omicron bring you here? Are you going to let Claire be treated like a lab-rat? I promise the things they did to me aren't going to compare to the things they'll do to her!"

Sylar continued moving. Peter hesitated before following. He was getting sick of Sylar. His words were cutting raw. The vent suddenly turned and carried on in another direction. It was an awkward fit. "Nothing's going to happen to Claire."

"You keep telling yourself that. Distract yourself from the truth." Sylar hesitated as the vent split into two directions.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Peter asked. The steady hum of a fan filled his ears. Whichever way the sound was coming from, that way was effectively blocked.

"I have a better idea than you do." Sylar retorted. He waited a few more seconds before turning right.

Peter smirked and continued after him. It wasn't much longer until the sound of the fan faded and the soft buzz of voices and beeps of machines echoed lightly through the vent. Both Peter and Sylar unconsciously slowed as the sounds grew louder. Ahead of Sylar, Peter could see a stream of light being filtered through a grate.

Sylar quickly crossed over the grate and somehow managed to twist himself until he was facing Peter from across the grate. Peter moved closer until he could see out through one of the narrow slits. Sylar had led him to the right place.

The research laboratory was exactly what Peter imagined it to be. Cold, metallic, row after row of machines were placed symmetrically around the large room. There wasn't a single bed in the laboratory, only scientists and their experiments.

"I thought you said they tested people here." Peter hissed at Sylar.

"Not here, not unless it's something big; the prisoners are usually taken to the other labs. It's closer to the cells. Less work for the guards."

Peter nodded, but his heart sank in disappointment. Elle wasn't here.

Suddenly Sylar raised himself higher and peered intently through the grate. Peter followed his cellmate's gaze and his eyes widened in surprise. A man was walking by the lines of machines, followed closely by a scientist clutching a clipboard. Peter ignored the scientist and glared at the man. It was him, Lance Cain, the president of Omicron himself.

Peter's glare was so intense he was surprised that Cain couldn't feel it. Hatred filled his body as he watched Cain adjust his suit's cuffs and glance at the scientist. Sylar may have been the one who exposed the specials for what they were, but it was Cain who declared war.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but Sylar quickly clamped his hand over Peter's mouth, cutting him off. Peter glared at him briefly before turning his attention back to Cain.

"How are our latest guests fairing?" Cain was asking the scientist. "The ones our friends captured in Reed Street?"

"…The guard's reports state that they haven't had any problems out of the girl, Claire Bennet." The scientist said nervously. Cain was a dominating and definitely intimidating presence. "She has a sharp tongue. Doyle seems to have taken an interest in her."

Cain rolled his eyes. "Doyle takes an interest in anyone who has blonde hair and resists him. Make sure you get Stark to keep an eye on his advances towards the girl. The FBI has taken a special interest in her and her friends. The last thing we need is them poking their noses where they don't belong. I do not want another Meredith Gordon."

The scientist nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard. Peter felt rage burn hot and fresh. If that Doyle even touched his niece, he was going to tear him apart!

As for Petrelli…" the scientist continued. "The guards say he's been a lot more vocal than his niece. He and his cellmate have assaulted each other. The guards have had to break up a fight already."

"Is that a fact?" Cain chuckled. "Just one fight? I expected more. When you put two lion's in a cage, there's bound to be conflict."

The scientist chuckled weakly, more to seem respectful than from actual amusement. "Yes… yes. Petrelli has also had several visits from FBI Agent Audrey Hanson. The latest one didn't last long."

The grin all but vanished from Cain's face as he stared at the scientist. "Hanson? Damn it, that persistent bitch, first Sylar and now Petrelli. After we finish here send a few guards down to find out what Petrelli's keeping from the FBI. If they want information, we need it too."

The scientist made another note. "There isn't much to report about the other girl, Miss Bishop. She hasn't woken up, we've pumped her full of anti-sedatives, shocked her, but still she won't wake. We're lucky she hasn't died yet, with all the things we've done...."

"I'll decide what we'll do about Miss Bishop later. She killed a lot of good men when she started that fire." Cain shook his head. "What about their abilities, have we at least confirmed those?"

"Yes, we have." The scientist examined his clipboard once again. "We have several reports from the survivors of the Halloween raid that Miss Bishop can generate electricity, and we already know what Petrelli can do, but if he's anything like Sylar, we won't find out any more than that.

"A brief analysis of Claire Bennet has confirmed that she has the ability to regenerate from her injuries. We have reports that she was struck frequently on the journey here, but she doesn't even have a scratch. Spontaneous Regeneration; we've never come across anyone with her ability before. Her potential is virtually limitless!" The scientist's voice picked up in his excitement. "The things we can learn from her. We don't have to worry about pushing too far or too hard."

"Make sure you keep your curiosity on a tight leash. The FBI is keeping an eye on these three. If they find out what we're doing here, there will be hell to pay, do you understand?"

The scientist nodded quickly. 'Of course, sir."

"Good. Now run along and tell the guards to pay a visit to Petrelli. I want another report by sundown."

The scientist nodded again and all but dashed away. Peter glanced up at Sylar. "We've got to get back. We can't break in there now, not during the day. The guards will be on us before we hit the ground. He backed away, sliding awkwardly back down the vent. Sylar wasn't moving. "Sylar!" Peter hissed furiously.

Sylar looked at him and began to follow. The way going back seemed a lot longer than when they went in. Maybe it was because of the fact that they didn't say a word. Peter could feel his heart beat rapidly and adrenaline course through his body. If the guards got to their cell before they did, there would be no hope of escape. Omicron underestimated them constantly, but they weren't stupid.

Peter managed to scramble awkwardly out of the vent, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the ground. Dust covered his clothing; he barely took a moment to beat his hands across his torso in an attempt to dislodge it.

He paused a moment to make sure that Sylar was almost out of the vent as he quickly gripped the ladder and slid down its frame. Childish games played with Elle had taught him that trick. He couldn't even remember how long ago that was.

He quickly cross the maintenance shaft and was about to enter the vent when Sylar finally made his way down the ladder. The serial killer paused there, staring around the maintenance shaft thoughtfully.

"What the hell are you doing?" Peter demanded.

"They expect us to just sit in that cell and play by their rules." Sylar said to himself. It must have been to himself. "Don't worry, Peter. We have plenty of time." Sylar walked towards the pulley system attached to the exact centre of the shaft and examined it carefully. "I wonder what they'll do when we change the rules. My father always used to say, 'it's much easier to destroy, than to repair.'" He suddenly bent down and thrust his hands into the pulley device. The sound of creaking metal sounded for a few seconds and then an almighty snap echoed through the shaft as one of the thick cords leading up through the shaft and into the elevator came free.

Peter stared at Sylar in astonishment. Sylar was grinning as the shaft shook slightly. Was he insane!?

"I am not going to follow their orders anymore. They expect me to play quietly…." Sylar laughed, it sounded different, savage. 'We'll I'm not going to!"

Peter just stared at him as he crossed back across the shaft and peered through the open trapdoor. The elevator was hanging unstably on an angle and swayed precariously. It looked like it could suddenly fall at the slightest pressure. Frightened screams echoed through the shaft. They must be terrified.

Peter looked back at Sylar, his mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Sylar grinned at him as he climbed into the vent leading back to their cell. He opened his mouth and spoke, succeeding where Peter had failed. "I aim to misbehave!"


A/N: Thanks for sticking with me this far. I don't really like this chapter. I had quite a lot of trouble with it. I hope it wasn't too bad. Anyway I'm completely hating Sylar at the moment, any guesses as to why? I'm sure a lot of people probably agree with me.

And a big thank you to all of my reviewers!