Passion's Power

15 minutes later...


Now in company uniform, Sylar quickly ran his way down the elongated sidewalk and sighed with relief when he saw what he had earlier read to be Erin Riley’s current place of employment in open view.

I just hope I’m not too late...

Upon reaching the club’s entrance, Sylar was about to walk right in – ignoring the line along with the payment fee altogether. However, he was stopped by a tall, buff security guard before he could proceed.

“I don’t think so,” the guard said with vehemence clear in his voice, “No one skips pay, so you’ll just have to wait in line to keep your dick in your pants just like everyone else.”

With an angry frown, Sylar turned, and forcefully slammed the security guard into the adjacent brick wall.

“Look, I don’t have time for this shit,” Sylar angrily hissed, “I’m with the police, and I have good reason to believe that a very dangerous man is inside preparing to murder one of the employees here if he already hasn’t, so stay the fuck out of my way or you’ll regret that you hadn’t.”

After speaking this, Sylar merely waved his hand before the club’s guard went soaring out into the streets, causing various onlookers to back away or gasp with a startled sense of confusion-filled fright.

Sylar knew he shouldn’t be broadcasting his abilities in broad daylight, but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. He rushed his way into the club, knowing that if his brother was still here, he could be anywhere. Hell, maybe he was watching Sylar right now, standing somewhere invisible, or even worse, maybe he had taken the target and teleported away with her. But no... that didn’t make sense. Sylar had a gut-feeling that Peter was still here, waiting. Waiting for him.

Quickly, Sylar dashed his way over to the bar; abruptly slamming his fist against its wooden surface hard enough to gain the undivided attention of every bartender in sight. A young man who had just finished mixing a cosmopolitan slowly walked over to Sylar, appearing extremely annoyed.

“Couldn’t wait your turn to get a drink like everyone else?” the man snarled, who was, in point of fact, the same bartender who had earlier waited on Peter Petrelli.

“I’m not here for a damned drink,” Sylar retorted, fumbling one hand in the pocket of his ebony jacket before he removed a photograph of Peter. He held it up in the bartender’s face shortly afterwards. “I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him?”

“Well, yes, actually,” replied Brett, wondering what the big deal was about the man he had earlier spoken with, “He’s kind of creepy if you ask me. He came here for a private session with Passion, and obviously succeeded, because they went into one of the back rooms together no less than ten minutes ago.”

Without so much as a simple ‘thanks’ for the information Brett had provided him with, Sylar practically sprinted his way towards the VIP section of the strip club; already having a very, very disquieting feeling about what he would possibly find in the end.

It probably was too late, wasn’t it?

Upon reaching the entrance to the back rooms, Sylar was once again greeted by the none too pleasant sight of a security guard. Not one, but two this time around. Both with loaded handguns attached to their belts.

Fuck.

Knowing he’d require a VIP pass to get through without any trouble, Sylar quickly looked around in search of someone who had one. He knew he could easily snatch the guns or toss the guards to the side with a mere thought, but Sylar knew the last thing he needed to do here was to instigate a public scene.

So, Sylar went with the latter.

After taking a brief moment to better study his surroundings, Sylar spotted exactly what he was looking for. There, at a nearby booth, he noticed one of the many female dancers giving some drunken Japanese man a topless lap-dance. Due to their obvious distraction, along with that of everyone else’s, Sylar was easily able to extend his arm before the pass lying atop the booth’s table flew through the air and right into Sylar’s hand. After this task was accomplished, the former watchmaker progressively made his way towards the guarded entrance where the back rooms were located.

Before either of the guards could say anything to Sylar, he held up the VIP pass he had telekinetically snatched.

Seemingly suspicious, one of the guards quirked a brow.

“Which one of the employees gave this to you?”

Agitated, Sylar quickly responded with the name ‘Erin’.

The guard who had just interrogated Sylar merely shrugged, before shooting the other security guard a partially-convinced look.

“Passion? Well, she does do the whole threesome thing, so let him through.”

Oh boy.

“Which room are they in again?” inquired Sylar, making sure he had said ‘they’ in order to make it look like he knew precisely what was going on. Which, well, he did...

One of the suited guards pulled the cerise curtain that had previously shielded the entrance to the back rooms, and pointed in a specific direction. “That last room, at the very end of the hallway to your right.”

Sylar nodded before entering. Then, he quite literally dashed down the hallway as if his very life depended on it – causing the security guards to laugh for a brief moment at how eager this guy seemed to be on ‘getting some action’.

Well, Sylar knew he was definitely in for some action, alright. Just not the kind the guards were thinking of...

Upon reaching the end of the hall, Sylar stopped before the door. The locked door. Sylar touched his hand to the doorknob, and instantly knew Peter had been here due to the power he had gained from Bridgett. Hell, according to what Sylar could tell, a lot of people had been in this room. That didn’t matter, though. Point was, Peter either had been, or was, the last person to touch this doorknob, and therefore was either in this room, or had been.

Abruptly, Sylar began banging on the door.

“Peter! Are you in there? If you are, open the fucking door!”

And then, Sylar heard what appeared to be a muffled scream...

Sylar ran a hand back through his hair. God, this would be so much easier had he still possessed all of his abilities prior to being infected by that damned Shanti Virus. In the past, his mere touch could have melted the metal knob, or he could have radioactively disintegrated it. Now, however, he only bore five abilities that didn’t blink on and off in comparison to Peter’s wider range of powers, and the only real one that would do any good in such a situation was telekinesis. Come to think, in the past, Sylar had become much too reliant on his abilities to the point of abusing them, so what would any average human being do in such a spot?

With a small grunt, Sylar took a step back, and simply kicked the door in. Momentarily, he felt somewhat stupid for not having thought of performing such a simple task sooner.

Sylar took a step into the relatively large room, and what he saw...

“Oh my God...”

There, on the floor, lay a woman. She was trying to scream out in pain and terror, but was unable to due to the ball-gag that had been placed in her mouth. This, however, wasn’t the disturbing part of the overall sight. No, it was the fact that her cranium had been cut open at least a third of the way. Blood covered her face in its entirety, dripping down onto the soft carpet below.

Quickly, Sylar rushed to her side, and knelt down, wondering if there was anything – anything at all that he could do.

However... just the sheer sight of the woman, in this state, made Sylar want to finish what Peter had started... He felt the hunger inside of him begin to swell, as he desperately fought a mental battle of restraint to control it. Sylar turned the horrified woman onto her back, as he leaned over her.

He pointed his index finger over her forehead, his hand shaking...

“No...” Sylar muttered to himself, mentally slapping himself. He couldn’t do this. He just... couldn’t. However, he knew this woman would soon be dead anyhow if he didn’t think of something fast. His mind... the darkness within him was telling him that it was already too late for her, and that he should just put the poor girl out of her misery while gaining something out of it in the process.

Sylar wanted to scream.

It almost seemed like the only real thing to do. Had... had Peter been unable to finish Erin off for himself, or had he actually left the woman here like this as some sort of cruel, sick test for Sylar?

Then... Sylar noticed an empty syringe lying on the floor nearby, and instantly, an idea came to mind. Not knowing if it would work or not, Sylar quickly grabbed the syringe in hand, rolled up his right sleeve as far as he could, and jabbed he needle into one of his veins – filling the syringe with his own blood. Afterwards, he hastily ensured one of the suffering woman’s arms into the grasp of his free hand, and injected her with his extracted DNA.

Then, Sylar just... waited, hoping more than ever that this would work. If Claire’s blood could heal people, then surely his blood had the same effect now. A few seconds passed, and just when Sylar had just about given up hope, the woman’s inflicted wounds began to heal themselves...

Sylar looked down at the Irish woman, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could.

“I’m going to remove this gag from your mouth now, but when I do, don’t scream.”

Erin nodded rapidly as Sylar unfastened the leather gag from her mouth, and the second she was freed from it, she sat up and quite literally threw her arms around Sylar’s form as if he were a guardian angel; sobbing hysterically.

“You... you saved me...” she whispered between the tears.

Not knowing what to say, Sylar allowed the woman to hold onto him – his clothing becoming stained with her blood. He stroked a hand back through her naturally red hair, breathing what seemed to be an authentic sigh of relief. When he pulled away from her, he looked her in the eyes.

“Tell me about the man who did this to you,” Sylar requested.

“He... he was insane...” she stuttered, still traumatized. “Some kind of monster. He... said he had heard about me from some friends. I... I thought he was just another guy looking for a quick fuck, but he suddenly w-went wild on me. He... he said he was like me, and then he began... moving things without touching them... At first he was kind and gentle, and I felt... comforted by him, to finally meet someone I could relate to, but then before I knew it, I was slammed back into the wall, c-choking, and then he somehow began to... to...”

“I know,” interrupted Sylar, getting the full picture instantaneously.

“But then he suddenly stopped, and I fell to the floor...” whispered Erin as she attempted to recollect the hellish experience she had just undergone, “He looked at me, and suddenly said a name... Caitlin... Afterwards, he just... he just vanished. Who... who is he?”

“Right now, he’s a very dangerous man who escaped from the company I work at,” Sylar informed, “I came here to capture him so he wouldn’t harm you, but it looks like I was too late...”

“But you weren’t...” the woman responded, running the palm of her hand down Sylar’s face in an intimate fashion, “You saved me with whatever power it is that you have. What can I possibly do to repay you?”

Sylar sighed, knowing full-well what the woman was attempting to offer him. Of course, Sylar had no interest in any of this whatsoever. He had to find Peter Petrelli before he had the chance to strike again.

“You can show me how your ability works so I know what I’m dealing with,” Sylar answered, “Because I’m positive that Peter has it now, and plans to use it against me. That’s his ability. He has the power to absorb other people’s abilities just by being around them.”

Sylar then stood, as Erin shakily did the same. Fighting the urge to cry anymore than she already had, she once again touched her hand to Sylar’s face.

And then, Sylar felt as his entire body became filled with heat, along with a sense of uncontainable, sexual desire that was begging to be satisfied. His cheeks flushed bright red, and he began panting. The sheer impact of the sudden sensation he felt was almost enough to make Sylar collapse down to his knees then and there.

When Erin took a step back, she released her mental grip on Sylar’s body and mind alike with what seemed to be a simple thought – leaving her savior there to momentarily gasp as he caught himself against the neighboring wall.

“That’s... that’s how I do it... How I make all of my money,” the woman muttered, sounding somewhat ashamed.

Trying to regain his breath, Sylar once more turned to face the Irish woman. “Is... is that the full extent of your power?”

Upon hearing this, she shook her head; a few more tears escaping beneath closed eyelids to mix with the blood and lingering mascara that still stained her face.

“No, it’s not...” she murmured, facing the floor, “If... if I wanted to, you would already be on your knees by now, begging for release... Because I can control when, and if or if not you get it...”

The sound of these words nearly petrified Sylar.

“I have to leave,” Sylar abruptly said, heading for the open door.

“No, don’t,” Erin pleaded, grasping onto one of Sylar’s arms, “What if that mad man comes back...?”

“He won’t,” Sylar stated in an assuring manner, “He already has exactly what he came here for...”


***


Now outside of the strip-club, Sylar paced his way down the cemented sidewalk. Now what? Was this it? The end to Peter’s so-called ‘game’?

Well... at least Peter hadn’t killed the woman he had targeted. Somehow, he had been able to control his hunger before he had the chance to finish what he had started, showing that there was still hope. Showing that Peter’s empathetic compassion somehow still outweighed the dark hunger within him that he was apparently trying to fight.

But again... now what?

You go back to where you killed your mother.

Sylar stopped dead in his tracks.

It was as if... as if he had heard Peter’s voice in his head.

Sylar spun around, searching for any sign of Peter Petrelli. Only, he saw Peter nowhere in sight.

“Peter!” Sylar called out, repeating his brother’s name at least five times in the form of a loud exclamation. The passing citizens eyed Sylar as if he was completely insane, and at this point, Sylar wasn’t sure that he didn’t agree with every single one of them.

You are completely insane.

How are you doing this, Peter?

Doing what? Implanting voices into your head? I just discovered I have the ability to do that, too... So as I said, meet me at the place where you stabbed your mother with that pair of scissors, before you painted the floor crimson red with her blood.

No... if you want to fucking fight me, fine, but please... anywhere but there!

That’s too bad, because that’s exactly where I’m going now. I pulled the location from your mind earlier, so I know where she lived. Where you killed her. If you fail to show or try to notify anyone of my whereabouts, I’ll simply teleport back to the company and gather more files.

Sylar gritted his teeth.

Alright. But I promise you, Peter... I will defeat you, and then, you’re going straight back to Level 5 where you belong!

That’s right. You want to make your new mommy so proud, don’t you? But you won’t try to kill me, because then she wouldn’t love you anymore… And then, you’d have no one.

Sylar clenched his fists, knowing full well what he had to do.

But... was Peter right? He was, wasn’t he? Sylar was only doing this for his mother; to gain her trust and affection. It wasn’t because he actually... cared about Peter, was it?

A number of yards away, Peter stood – his back pressed up against the firm trunk of a tree. He was once again shielding his presence with his power of invisibility, but it didn’t change the fact that his hands were coated with blood. Even if no one else could currently see it, Peter still could, as well as feel it, and as he stared at Sylar, he felt that same, venomous hatred he always felt when he thought of the sociopathic killer.

Peter wasn’t responsible for the blood on his hands... No. No, it was all Sylar’s fault. Sylar had put it there, and now he was going to pay for it.


***


20 minutes later...


I don’t want to be here... goddamn you, Peter...

Upon reaching the doorway to what had been Virginia Gray’s apartment, Sylar hesitated to enter. Just... being here, where he was right now, was already bringing back a tidal wave’s worth of memories that Sylar had so desperately been trying to forget.

Rejecting the use of his clairsentience ability, Sylar grasped on to the doorknob and slowly turned it – finding the door to be fully unlocked. He stepped inside, instantly staring down at the very spot where his first mother had died. The very room, still, somehow, seemed to bare the olfaction of her blood. God... when that annoying Hiro had frozen time during that horrific moment, Sylar realized he hadn’t been joking when he had urged the time-traveler to end his life. For a split-second, at least.

But it had been just as he had told Maya. Upon seeing his abilities in action, the mother who once loved and raised him had thought him out to be nothing but a monster...

Some sort of enmity against God.

“Who are you? You’re not my Gabriel. What have you done with my son?”

The memory of these words were like knifes grating into Sylar’s mind.

Inside of the apartment, it momentarily seemed like nothing but horrific memories mixed with broken snow globes and the lingering smell of death filled the atmosphere.

But then, another door then opened, seemingly all on its own. The bedroom door. It didn’t take a genius or any form of precognition for Sylar to know who was behind this not-so-miraculous act.

Almost tentatively, Sylar walked his way towards the bedroom, expecting to see Peter Petrelli inside. Instead, he saw nothing, that is, until...

“Peter,” Sylar hissed, noticing the way the bed’s mattress was sinking down in the middle, as if an invisible man were lying atop it. Before Sylar could think twice, however, a sharp pain invaded the upper, left-hand side of his chest.

And then, Peter revealed himself. Sylar caught the dark expression of amusement on Peter’s face the very instant that he had come into full view.

“You hid them under a floorboard?” Peter inquired knowingly, tossing what had been Virginia Gray’s Christian bible off to the side, “Did you really want to remember it that badly?”

Of course, Peter had been referring to the pair of old, blood-stained scissors he had telekinetically launched at Sylar from across the room.

“You stabbed her directly in the heart, right?” Peter continued, “Just like that?”

With one hand, Sylar yanked the pair of scissors out of the left side of his chest, throwing them to side with force. The moment Sylar had touched those scissors, their entire history had played throughout his mind, and the feeling had been... terrifying.

For a moment that felt like a small eternity, Sylar had been forced to experience his adoptive mother’s death all over again.

“Peter, you’ve got to stop this,” Sylar demanded, the guilt-ridden pain fading from his voice as his inflicted wound began to heal itself, “You’re fucking losing it!”

“Losing what?” Peter questioned, sitting up on the bed’s edge, “My mind? My control? My mother? And all to you...”

Sylar’s eyes narrowed, and he stared at Peter intently. “What you choose to do to people with your abilities, including harming them, has nothing to do with me, nor is it my fault. You make your own choices, Peter. You chose to nearly murder that woman half an hour ago, you chose to try and kill our mother, and you chose to take my ability in the future. I did none of this for you.”

“Well if you’re the hero now...” Peter began, slowly standing from the bed without breaking eye-contact with Sylar, “I guess that make me the villain.”

With these words spoken, Peter held out his open right-hand.

Figuring Peter was about to telekinetically throw him into a wall, electrocute him, or hurl a ball of flaming-hot fire at him, Sylar held out his own arm in preparing to counteract any attack from Peter the best he could.

Instead, however...

“Pe-Peter...” Sylar gasped-out, knowing exactly which power Peter was choosing to use on him, “Don’t do this...”

“Oh yes, I can see ‘Passion’ gave you a little demonstration of her power, because you’re thinking about it right now,” Peter stated, though his voice had taken on a notable tint of jealousy to it. “And I see that you saved that girl... It’s not fair. Why is it that you get to become this... angel in the future, and me some monstrous terrorist whom everyone hates? In the future, I have no one. No one but you. Not even Nathan or Claire. It was as if no one even gave a damn about me but you, and that sickens me,” he said, sounding utterly disgusted.

Still gasping for breath, Sylar collapsed down to the floor, looking up at Peter with an expression of sheer confusion.

Peter increased the amount of lustful desire he was forcing Sylar to feel, torturing him all the more.

“Nathan overlooked my future self’s dead body with not so much as a hint of regret, that is, after Claire killed me, and you... you threw your arms around me!” Peter shouted, sounding sincerely insane, “Why? Why, damnit? What in the hell is going on? Was my future self holding back some sort of sick information about the relationship shared between the two of us in the future from me?”

“I-I don’t know...” Sylar struggled to get out, his face flushing bright red, “Just stop this!”

“Do you love me, Gabriel?” Peter forcefully questioned, “Well do you?”

I... I’m trying to...

Peter frowned, darkly and derisively. “Then I’m going to make you hate me.”