Confrontation

The market square was at his most busy time of the week. People were running around and talking over each other, all of them in a hurry to get the better offers before someone else did. Not less of them had a lot of stress in their tries to do so.

„I told you I need the green apples." a woman cried at her husband who just refused to understand her.

„You said apples. You didn´t say green apples. And what difference does the colour make anyway?"

„Tina, leave the dog alone." a mother shouted. „You have no idea if he´s clean."

„Allison, look." a young girl called for her friend. „That´s the fruit my teacher told us about. He sais they stink awful but they are supposte to taste quiet good."

„He made that up." the other girl replied. „Something can´t stink and taste good the same time."

„I believe him."

„Because you crush on him."

„I don´t."

„Benny, hold that bag for me."

„How much do we need, for gods sake? You already have two bags."

„Just one more."

„That price is a joke, right? That´s pure robbery."

„Danny, where are you again? I´m talking to you."

„Is this even fresh? It looks wasted."

„Can´t you look where you are going? I have kids with me."

„Why do I have the feeling that you only came here to have a look at the latest crime scene, Doris?" an elderly woman mentioned.

„Because you always think the worst of people." her colleague answered. „I only come here for the salad. I´m here every Thursday, isn´t that right Ralph?"

„Yes, it is, Ma´am." the salesman replied. „She´s my best customer."

„I could as well work this stand." Doris stated. „Most of your wasted salads were sorted out by me. This one for instance."

The vegetable salesman took the bad salad with an embarrassed face and let it vanish under his stand in silence. Doris ignored him and kept looking through the rest of the vegetables, when all the sudden an excited mumbling started amongst the people. Everybody looked around to find out what had caused it. But looking around wasn´t doing the trick. Looking up was.

There was a banner hanging from the building on the other side of the market. Doris was sure it hadn´t been there only a minute ago, but now it was hard to overlook it. It read in big red letters: „Thank you so much for the present. Sylar." A little smaller beneath it stood: „P.S. I´d like to meet this generous giver."

Doris was sure she´d seen someone moving on the top of the building from which this strange banner hung but the figure was gone as soon as she´d spotted it. Had this been done by one man only? People were pointing and talking and only a short time after the whole thing had started, a reporter and a camera man hurried past Doris to get to a better position. The police arrived about ten minutes later, securing the place and chasing everybody away that was standing too close to the building.

The only comment, the reporters got from the leading investigator was a rough and unnerved: „No comment, dammit!"

...

It was going straight to midnight. The marketplace, which had been crowded with people this afternoon when Peter had hung the banner up on that building, was now deserted and quiet like a cemetery. No wonder. The police had closed it off. The yellow crime scene tape that surrounded the square was flapping in the wind. It seemed to be the only sound in this place, that was supposte to be part of an ongoing investigation.

Peter was standing in the middle of the market, looking around as if waiting for someone to arrive and pick him up. And of course he was waiting. He waited for Nobody. So far he hadn´t shown up. But something in Peter told him that this would change after midnight. As if this time was some sort of magical border that had to be crossed before this man could finally show up.

He threw a glance behind himself at the building from which he´d hung the banner. The banner was gone by now. The police had taken it down – not before they were sure the reporters had gotten a good picture of it though. The whole building was a crime scene now. At least that´s what the news had said. They had broadcasted the picture of the banner on that building the whole day and with that they´d unwillingly supported their plan to let Nobody know about Sylar´s invitation to meet him. Here and now.

People had gathered around the scene the whole day as well. Rubberneckers, but Bennet and Lassiter had made sure that cameras had caught them all on tape to run their faces through the FBI´s database, just in case Nobody should have been amongst them. Or maybe one of his guys. He was known to let others do the dirty work for him after all. Only that this choice of words didn´t quiet fit in this case. The most dirty work he was always doing himself. The killings. That´s at least what this strange man Mary Lightly had told them.

Peter wasn´t sure about anything in this regard. He was still not completely sure about how he had gotten into this. Not just this slightly insane plan to act as Sylar to lure this madman out and into custody. But the whole situation he´d found himself in after getting here. He´d planned on finding and helping Sylar. Instead he´d learned that Sylar was dead and now he was trying to pretend that he was Sylar to take someone into custody that tried to be like Sylar. What a sick joke of fate was that?

Peter sighed and searched the other side of the square. A shop window. Baby clothings. Usually. Tonight it was a sniper nest, habiting the head detective and his team. Peter looked up at the top of the building and at the camera that was installed there. He couldn´t see it in the dark but he knew it was there. As well as on the other side of the place to make sure they would get all angles. What an amount of equipment. They really were desperate to get that guy. Peter had to give them that. They really were serious. He didn´t know if the FBI came up with something as big as this all the time or if it was just when they were hunting possibly superhuman powered serial killers.

Again he wondered if this man really had an ability. The stories Mary Lightly had told them were indicating something but they were no proof. Everything was possible. As far as Peter was concerned the chances were fifty fifty. He would have to wait and see. But no matter if the guy had an ability or not. He was a murderer and he had to be stopped. And if it was just to keep him from copying Sylar.

A squeaking sound came up and Peter looked ahead searching the source. He spotted it. A beggar came strolling up the street, shoving a shopping cart. Peter exhaled.

„False alarm." he spoke quietly into the microphone on his chest, to let the others know that they could relax again.

He watched the beggar how he shoved his cart over the street. There was something in the cart, but not the usual bunch of things those people usually shoved through the streets. This one had something in his cart that looked like a cargo box, covered with a cloth. Peter frowned. Something was weird about this beggar. Not just his cart. The guy was not just passing either. He was heading for the square and … him.

Peter tensed. Could this be? Could this be Nobody? He took a hesitant step forwards.

„Don´t, Peter." Bennet´s voice came over radio into his ear. „Let him come to you. If it is him, he´ll address you."

Peter made himself stand still and waited. It was the hardest thing in the world. This guy (beggar?) took his time to cross the square. The closer he came the more Peter was convinced that it had to be the one they were waiting for. He gulped. Now it was time. The moment of truth.

„A little more posture if possible." Bennet spoke into his ear again. „Remember. You´re supposte to be Sylar."

Peter flinched inwardly. Noah was right. Sylar wouldn´t be so nervous. He would show an arrogant face if he would be in his position. So Peter pulled himself together and put on a stern face, hiding his nervousness. The guy with the shopping cart was almost at him now. Peter could see his eyes and he was looking right at him. There was no question left. That had to be their man. Peter made a step forward. The man stopped. Was that a good sign?

„Who are you?" he asked him.

„Me?" the man asked but he didn´t seem scared or surprised. „Oh, I´m nobody. Really." He looked at Peter intensely, a smile playing around his lips. „Who are you?" he asked right back.

„Who do you think I am?" Peter replied, trying to remember the way Sylar would talk to this man if he were here. „If you´re the one I think you are … you´ll know who I am." he said.

The man with the shopping cart lay a hand on his chest. „I was waiting for that day for so long now." he told him. „When I read your message … I was so flattered. Let me tell you … it´s an honor."

„What is your name?" Peter asked.

„I have no name." Nobody answered.

Peter was irritated. „You … You must have one. Everybody has a name."

„Not me. But if you like to give me one, I´d be happy to take it. Just choose."

For a moment, Peter was not sure how to go on. That was something he hadn´t expected.

„Say something, dammit." the voice of Carlton Lassiter spoke into his ear. „We need to find out if he´s the one we want."

Peter was about to open his mouth to do what the detective had asked him so politely, but Nobody had raised his finger to gain his attention.

„I brought you something." he told him excited. „Look."

With that he uncovered what he´d been transporting on his shopping cart. There were three cylinders in it, all of them filled with some liquid, Peter could see. But it was dark and he needed to go closer to it, to have a better look. When he could see what was in those vessels, he stopped dead in his tracks. It was brains that drifted in this liquid. Each of them, carefully cleaned and almost undamaged. One was swimming under the cover of its vessel, the others lay on the bottom like stones. Peter skipped back a little.

„What is it?" Nobody asked, the disappointment visible in his eyes. „I … I know this is probably rookies work … but give me a break. I never did this before. I kept them for you. As a present."

Peter looked into the eyes of the man before him and desperately hoped that he couldn´t see that his hands were shaking. This was so creepy. He talked about it as if it was something completely normal. Not even Sylar had ever talked like that.

Keep going, he urged himself. They rely on you to bring this home.

„So it was really you …" he managed to speak. „ … who did all these … amazing things in my name?"

Nobody´s reaction was the reaction of the most humble person on earth. He smiled and lowered his gaze in a shameful manner.

„I hope I didn´t dare too much." he said.

Peter gulped and made himself continue. „And you are not just a messenger or something?" he asked. „You did it yourself?"

„I did." was the proud answer.

In the baby clothes shop, Lassiter clung to his gun tightly. „We have a confession." he cried into the radio and got up. „Move in. Move in now." With that he was at the door and stormed out. „Freeze!" he yelled on top of his lungs. „Hands in the air."

Everywhere around the place, police officers came out of their hiding places, ready to take this man on the square into custody. But right in the moment, when Lassiter yelled out for him to surrender, Nobody swirled around and then there were shots filling the air. Many shots. Lassiter was grabbed from behind and dragged back into the shop. When he stopped seeing his surroundings rush past him, he was sitting on the floor, O´Hara right next to him, her hands still on his shoulder. Outside he could hear the shots and the cries of the men who got hit.

„Goddamn bastard." he cursed under his breath. „He has an MP!"

When the rattling sound of the shots finally stopped, Lassiter peeked out. He could see several officers lying on the ground, some of them still moving, some not. The others had obviously taken cover again.

„Dammit!" he cursed.

On the market square, Peter had watched what had happened in shock. It all had happened so fast, he believed he´d had an episode of some sorts. But after the shooting had stopped again, he could hear the groans of some of the hit officers and he just knew it was real. Nobody had his back to him, still looking around for these attackers, that obviously hadn´t been quiet as unexpected to him as they all had hoped.

Peter took his decision instinctively and immediately jumped forward. This attack seemed to be unexpected to Nobody. The grip on his gun was weak and when Peter grabbed it, he managed it to take it from him pretty easily. He snapped it away from him and pushed Nobody with his shoulder, making him stumble. He didn´t fall though, but at least Peter had disarmed him.

„What are you doing, Sylar?" Nobody asked, staring at him irritated.

Peter aimed the gun at him, hoping that he wouldn´t fire that damn thing by accident. „I´m not Sylar." he informed this mad man. „Sylar´s dead."

The irritation transformed into pure shock on the other man´s face and almost without transition into anger. „That´s a lie." he cried.

„Believe what you want." was all Peter would reply to that. „But if you don´t want to die you should surrender now."

Around them the police had taken new position by now. Some of them were taking care of the wounded. The rest of them was closing in. The detectives and Bennet were among them. All of them aiming their guns at Nobody.

„We´re coming over." Lassiter informed the culprit. „Raise your hands and surrender peacefully."

But Nobody didn´t seem impressed about that at all. He just looked at Peter with a placid face and then he pulled a new gun from under his coat. This time it was only a handgun but everybody flinched nevertheless.

„Throw the gun away!" Lassiter yelled. „Do it or we´ll shoot."

Peter tensed but didn´t dare to move, in fear he could provoke Nobody into really shooting off. Nobody didn´t shoot though. He just kept looking at him, with this unimpressed face of his. So far the gun was aiming to the ground. He was holding it as if he only carried a useless flashlight.

„Go on." Nobody said, his eyes never leaving Peter. „Shoot me. See what happens."

„Throw the gun away or we open fire." Lassiter repeated.

„Do it." Nobody shouted, now getting impatient. „Shoot me!"

He looked back at Peter and the moment their eyes met, his eyes started to sparkle. He raised the weapon and aimed it at him, attempting to pull the trigger. Peter pulled the trigger of the MP and the weapon started to rattle in his hands, shaking him like a spin cycling washing machine. It only lasted a second before he took his finger off the trigger again, but it felt like several minutes. Still the shots he´d fired at Nobody were accompanied by various others, fired by Lassiter and Juliet. They all had been so tensed that they just couldn´t stop themselves. Now Nobody payed the price for his dare. He got hit several times, in the chest in the stomach, in the side until the police finally ceased fire. When it was over he swayed and stumbled backwards.

Peter saw him through the smoke of the gunpowder his own weapon had caused. He expected him to fall over any second now but instead Nobody just regained his balance and stood straight again. He seemed minorly uncomfortable but – Peter couldn´t believe it – he was still smiling.

„The son of a bitch must wear a vest." someone shouted. „Shoot at the arms or if necessary at the head."

„This was the last warning." Lassiter shouted again. He sounded irritated but somehow managed it to still yell so loud that his voice resounded from the buildings around. „Throw your weapon away or we´ll kill you." he yelled.

„He´s not wearing a vest." Bennet said next to him.

Lassiter threw him a glance. The voice of the Company man had been trembling and now that he saw his eyes he could see that he was disturbed and that was something, Lassiter really didn´t like. Not at all. It showed him that Noah was pretty much freaked out over the fact that Lightly had been right after all. And that he´d been right was pretty obvious by now. Lassiter cursed. Dammit, he really had been right about this guy.

Nobody locked eyes with Peter again. The glowing in his eyes was pure evil and so was his smirk.

He pulled the trigger of his little gun before anyone could even flinch. But there was no bullet coming out of it. Just a small flame, that now burned peacefully and pathetically tiny at the muzzle of that gun. Peter didn´t know what to do with that. This goddamn bastard had threatened them with a firestarter all along.

„Who needs a gun anyway?" Nobody said with a shrug as if to say, what the hell and just threw the little toy away. „I prefer the direct contact." he told Peter.

With that he held a knife in his hand and not just any knife. It was a butcher knife, worth of a Crocodile Dundee. Peter was still not sure what to do. He was still holding the MP, he´d taken from Nobody but by now that thing had become a strange object in his hands. It was not him who fired the next few bullets at Nobody. Those came out of Lassiter´s and O´Hara´s guns.

Nobody got hit again several times. This time he barely flinched at the impacts. It was as if he was hit by softballs instead of bullets. His attention was still fully on Peter … and he was closing in rapidly. Lassiter gave up on the try to shoot that guy in the chest and aimed for the head. He hit and Nobody´s head was jerked aside.

Everybody halted when they saw this. Had he killed him?

But Nobody only stood straight again and shook his head as if to shake off a small dizziness. There was no blood on him whatsoever. He looked less than pleased though.

„Fuck, was that really necessary?" he shouted, pissed as hell. „Honesty that´s really annoying."

Everybody just stared at this in shock. Nobody took advantage of the situation and walked the last few steps that separated him from Peter. The young man tried to raise the MP again to defend himself but Nobody was faster. He just grabbed the weapon and jerked it aside, out of Peter´s hands. In the same move he rammed the knife forward and into Peter´s stomach.

Peter bowed forward and froze at the impact. Above him Nobody was still holding the MP. To keep the police from closing in, he fired around blindly for a moment. Everybody dived down and took cover.

Nobody returned his attention back to Peter, who was still bowed before him. The killer smiled.

„I know." he said. „Hurts, doesn´t it? I know. It never happens as fast as it does in the movies. It´s unfair, I know."

He turned the knife to make it go faster – he was not completely merciless after all. But in this moment he noticed that something didn´t feel right. He knew the feeling of a knife that stuck in a body. That felt different. He was also missing the satisfying feeling of warm blood running over his hand. When he looked down, to see why, his victim was looking up at him, not a single hint of pain in his eyes. Nobody panicked and searched the spot where the knife had – must have – penetrated the stomach. But there was no blood. None. What the …?

„NOOO!" he cried angrily and pushed this stubborn victim away. He flew a few meters but not even that seemed to injure him. That was impossible.

„You should surrender." Peter advised him without even standing up. „There is no way out of this for you."

Nobody was fuming. How could he dare? How could he dare to be so arrogant? First he refused to die and now he talked down to him and that even though he was the one lying on the ground.

Again Nobody shot around when he noticed the police closing in. But after only a few shots his PM was only spitting some clicking sounds. Nobody threw it to the ground and cursed.

„You can´t get away anymore." Peter repeated. By now he was standing again, closing in just like the police guys.

„You think so?" Nobody asked. He was still far from giving up. With a quick gesture he took something out of his pocket. Peter stopped, expecting a new gun. But instead of a weapon Nobody was holding something that looked like a remote.

„It´s really a good thing that I always plan ahead." Nobody told him. „Just in case."

Before Peter could even wonder what he meant with that, Nobody had already pushed the button on that remote. All the sudden the market square was surrounded by fire and thunder. At least three buildings went up in a line of bright explosions, one after the other as if it was a well planed choreography. Peter felt the heat flooding over the square like a living wave and then something pushed him and threw him to the ground.

Everywhere people were screaming and smoke was blinding the view. Peter tried to orient himself in that chaos but it was impossible. Nobody was standing right in the middle of all that, looking over at him with a smile.

Peter struggled to his feet, intending to get that bastard. And then there was another explosion, the roaring of the flames drowning all the other sounds. After that everything was just a blur.