Chapter 44- Payback

"I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed

(I could do most anything to you)

Don't you breathe, don't you breathe

Something happened that I never understood

(I could do most anything to you)

You can't leave, you can't leave"

"Somewhere a Clock is Ticking" –Snow Patrol

Jim had his phaser drawn as he and McCoy followed Peter and Sylar into the complex that held their compatriots, but it soon became glaring clear that it was a wasted effort. He could have been holding a water pistol and no one would have noticed. McCoy didn't even bother removing his from his belt which was fine with him. He hated even carrying the damn thing and only did so because he was absolutely required to. In truth he was a wicked shot mostly due to hunting birds and squirrels with his trusty slingshot while growing up in Georgia, but killing a pesky rodent that eats the crops you planted was very different from causing harm to another being- even if they did strongly differ in opinion. It all just seemed antithetical to his profession- he didn't need business that badly and in his experience there weren't many disputes that couldn't be resolved over a good bottle of whiskey. He had a gut feeling that Peter and Sylar wouldn't let them down, but he didn't think it would be as easy as they made it look.

Sylar and Peter walked at a brisk pace along the halls with such confidence and conviction it bewildered the Romulans that saw them and it was usually the last thing they saw before being thrown into the nearest wall with nothing more than a flick of a wrist. The invisible force was so strong it knocked them out cold and left them laying in a heap on the floor as the gods continued on without so much as a backwards glance. Both men wore grim and determined expressions while they marched alongside each other with a singular purpose and despite their tangled and tormented history, it felt remarkably right. Each had his own agenda, but remained focused on the same goal. Separately they were formidable in their own right, but together they were unstoppable and the Romulans didn't stand a chance.

Jim glanced over at McCoy as they stepped over the latest casualty and smiled excitedly. He had never had it so easy and for perhaps the first time since he allowed them onboard he began to think he actually made the right decision. Sure he would have some explaining to do when it was all said and done, but Starfleet would forget all about it when he told them about what the evolved humans could actually do! And with the data collected, perhaps they could even use it to develop defenses. Sure he was a little leery as was Spock in the beginning, but as he watched Peter and Sylar work it dawned on him that they were essentially super soldiers and if the Federation had that kind of technology how could that possibly be a bad thing?

McCoy, on the other hand, was having very different thoughts. While their powers made them nearly invincible it also made them a bigger target and he had no idea how in the hell they were going to keep Starfleet from finding out about them when they were marching down the halls like demigods, impervious to the feeble attempts at resistance the Romulans were putting up. Way too many people had witnessed them use special powers at that point and sooner or later word would get around- the universe just wasn't big enough these days, he thought grimly as Peter momentarily stumbled backwards when he took a blast to the chest from a phaser. Instinctively he tried to get him to lay down to treat him as best he could after taking a shot like that although he knew there was probably very little he could do.

Peter shrugged him off with a smirk as he watched the wound close while Sylar mercilessly dispatched the offender by apparently choking him to death without actually touching him. It wasn't something he planned to do, but seeing Peter gravely wounded made him act on impulse and he was almost disgusted to realize that the empathy remained and returned with his powers. It wasn't quite as strong as before, but it was undeniably still intact and he was furious because he was not by nature an impulsive person- unlike Peter- and it interfered with his preferred mode of precise, deliberate, purpose. This was one time his body acted faster than his mind. Logically he knew that Peter was in no real danger since he could heal, but for that one fraction of a second, he had forgotten that and all his mind could process was the fact that Peter was dead and he wanted revenge. His dark eyes flickered momentarily to Peter to see if he noticed it as well, but thankfully he was preoccupied with Dr. McCoy. He just hoped that he wasn't too talented in multitasking and secretly reading his mind while trying to convince the doctor he was fine.

Jim probably didn't notice Sylar's cognitive lapse, but the fact that the Romulan was decidedly dead did not escape his attention. "Sylar," he said quietly assuming his best authoritarian stance while squinting his sharp blue eyes, "what did I say about killing them? You and I both know that was completely unnecessary given all of the alternatives open to you. You could have taken his gun, you could have stunned him with the blue stuff you shot me with, and god knows how else you could have neutralized him but you didn't have to kill him."

Sylar held his gaze and wanted to rip the presumptuous little bastard a new one, but in the end he only gave a slight nod of acknowledgement because he knew he couldn't defend his actions and he would rather die a slow and painful death before he would admit to what actually happened. Thankfully, Peter intervened before Jim had a chance to press his luck.

"I can hear Nathan!" He proclaimed with a small relieved smile that lit up his face like a kid at Christmas. "It's him, I know it!"

"I don't suppose he's thinking about his exact location, is he?" McCoy groused. No matter how wondrous and improbable this whole thing was, he just couldn't shake the innate pessimism that always hung on him like a wet blanket.

"No, but he is with Spock." Peter replied.

"Can you hear him too?" Jim asked trying to hide the overwhelming tide of relief and hope that threatened to wash over him.

"I don't know him well enough to know what he sounds like." He admitted.

"Think of a monotone talking encyclopedia." McCoy suggested. "That will probably get you in the ballpark. At least that's what I imagine goes on between those pointed ears."

Peter paused and tilted his head slightly. "Then I would have to say probably." He nodded in appreciation. "At least this person has calculated that their chance of escape is 12.69%"

"That's him!" Jim declared flashing a wide smile although he was a little disappointed the Vulcan didn't give him slightly better odds.

"Then let's go disprove his theory." Sylar smirked as Peter lead the way, tuned into the familiar hum of his brother's scattered thoughts like a tracking device. It was fortunate for him that although on the exterior Nathan was calm and often acted serene, his mind never stopped spinning with political calculations and observations on human nature. This was the man the world never knew, but even in his captive and apparently injured state his only thoughts were of saving his little brother…somehow…and it made Peter smile.

'Hang in there big brother,' Peter thought as he and Sylar continued their controlled rampage through the building, 'I'll save you this time.' After all the times that Nathan had been his hero, it was time for payback.

Mendak was almost beside himself with fury when word got back to him of his father's deceit. In his absence he agreed to talks with the Federation and he agreed to let his captives- his prizes and assurance of status- go! What had the Federation offered in return to make him do such a thing? Surely they must have threatened to crush the Romulans with their mighty ships including the Enterprise which he was told was in close orbit around Dhael. If his people were under attack, there was nothing left to do but defend them with his last breath. If he couldn't live the life of a nobleman he would die a hero.

"Get my ship ready!" He barked at a courtier. "And load all of the secret rockets you can get onboard."

The courtier deferred as he was expected to, but the look of surprise and reluctance on his face was hard to miss. "But Mendak," he nearly pleaded, "we haven't even tested the warheads yet. We don't know what they will do."

Mendak paused only for a second. Did the cowardly little worm just dare question him? Rather than publicly humiliate the transgressor or threaten to have him fired as he normally would have, he grinded his teeth and growled, "Then consider this our first trial."

Of course Mendak knew the warheads hadn't been tested, he developed the damn things and oversaw the lab they were created in! But he had full faith and confidence in his top scientists who told him that these weapons were the likes of which had never been seen before in their destructive capability. When properly calibrated, they could even punch a hole through the toughest defense shields. While he didn't know what would happen with the weapons, he was eager to find out.

He walked to a balcony overlooking the main square at the crowds still celebrating. They didn't know what had transpired and as he listened to the crowd chant his name and "Death to the Vulcan" he became determined to save his legacy even after his father's treason. His father was now an enemy of the people and they must know of his treachery, but only after he returned yet again as the victor- either with the head of Spock or with the distinction of being one of the first to take down a Federation ship singlehandedly. He would be the hero his people needed and he would bask in their praise.

Mohinder ran his hands through his dark, curly hair in sheer frustration. He knew where the specimen vials were kept, but he searched high and low and could not for the life of him locate what he was looking for. He looked through the cabinet for the hundredth time and just as he expected, the only vials present were neatly labeled "Peter Petrelli." Those marked "Sylar A.K.A Gabriel Gray" were nowhere to be found. He didn't want to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but he knew for a fact the vials containing Sylar's blood, hair, and skin cells from a cheek swab were in the cabinet the last time he looked and now they had vanished. This coupled with his contaminated sample made him wonder if he wasn't being sabotaged. He quietly made his way over to Matt who was still being signed out by a nurse. "Matt, may I speak with you when you have a moment?" he asked in a pleasantly smooth clip that immediately made Matt suspicious.

"What's up?" Matt asked eyeing the Indian like a potential purse snatcher.

"I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to do me a small favor." Mohinder smiled nervously. "Would it be possible for you to scan the thoughts of the staff here to see if there is any…alternate…plans for our being here?"

Matt scoffed and shook his head. "What the hell are you getting at? Alternate plans? Like what? Grinding us up and feeding us to the staff?"

"Perhaps not that dramatic." Mohinder sighed rolling his eyes. He knew it wouldn't be so easy. Matt was not really one who relished using his powers, he just wanted to be a normal guy and in a way he could respect that, but not at the moment. "It's just that there have been some odd coincidences and I would like to know a little more about it." He reasoned.

"Whatever." Matt shrugged as he alternately looked from one member to another. After a few tense minutes he reported, "No one seems to know where Hoffa is buried or who shot JFK, but there is going to be a surprise birthday party for Mary tonight." Matt chuckled at the expression on Mohinder's face and he added, "There will be cake."

"Thank you for your assistance." Mohinder grumbled as he returned to his lab.

"Cake hater!" Matt taunted.

Mohinder started to turn around to refute the charge because he actually did enjoy a nice slice of moist cake with icing from time to time, but he quickly realized that Matt was only trying to get a rise out of him and he wisely let it go. Someday he would get his comeuppance.