Safety in Numbers - Part Two of Six NC17/R18+
Title: Safety in Numbers - Part Two of Six
Author: Bombshell_chic
Characters/Pairings: Claire, Sylar and Peter, with other characters guest-starring.
Rating: NC17/R18+ for part two
Warnings: Strong, graphic sexual violence including non-con; Teenaged minor in a sexual situation; Graphic violence, gore and coarse language; Strong adult themes; Character death.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of NBC/Tim Kring etc. I make no profit from writing or posting this. Song lyrics for this chapter by Robbie Williams.
Spoiler alert: Episode 18, then it goes wildly AU, especially with the whole timeframe thing….
Summary: The safety of the Petrelli household is violated when Sylar attacks Claire.
Notes: I wrote the fight scene before I saw episode 19, and I was amused by some of the vague similarities. (Peter and Sylar fighting… mmm…!) Also, this is all very non-canon, and I hope it makes sense. It was pretty full-on to write. Feedback appreciated.
Cursed, since your birth dear
And your worst fears have all come true
Babe you’re not the first here on earth dear
‘Cause I’m still here
and I’m cursed, too, cursed like you.
-Cursed, Robbie Williams
He’d created the perfect diversion.
For weeks he’d been watching them, stalking them, etching their movements and habits and schedules into his memory. So he eventually settled on a way to get almost all of them out of the house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get everything he wanted, but he just couldn’t wait any longer.
It was going to happen on a Monday.
And he knew the perfect way to lure them out of the house.
*
Killing people had taken a little getting used to at first, but it was easier when he used his powers. Not just easier to accomplish, but easier to justify to himself. Now he had no trouble murdering those who could benefit him- bring him closer to completion and perfection. And if anyone got in his way, well they were just collateral damage. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun in killing them. He never left any victims alive, if he could help it. No witnesses- it was easier that way.
But this one was different. He needed bait to dangle in front of them. Something else to keep them on their toes. So on Monday morning, he dressed as a UPS worker, and rang the doorbell of a modest house in a little town in upstate New York.
He knocked the old man out first, and then went after the boy. The old man didn’t see when Sylar scalped the boy, or took his brain, but he came around shortly thereafter. He saw what was left, and Sylar had a good, long conversation with him all about it. Then he left.
*
Nathan Petrelli had sources everywhere. He had a man at the FBI who worked the switchboard and was keeping an ear out for him. News tended to travel fast around the Bureau, and from department to department, so when he heard talk of a particularly grisly murder, and the name Sylar being bandied about, he knew it was time to pick up the phone.
An anonymous phone call had been made to 911 that morning. The police had responded, and the scene that greeted the officers made them all sick to their stomachs. A boy, barely a teenager was dead, his head had been cut open, the brain removed and nowhere in sight. His grandfather had been tortured a little, but left alive- pinned to a wall. The elderly man had been rushed to the hospital, and after several hours in surgery, his condition was listed as serious but stable.
Nathan had pulled quite a lot of strings to get Mohinder and Peter in to see the grandfather. Mohinder tried to ask the man questions about what had happened, while Peter struggled to keep the man’s thoughts out of his head, wanting to cry and throw up by the end of it. He left Mohinder at the hospital, needing to be alone. He took a train back to New York City, because he didn’t think he could stand being cooped up in the car with Mohinder. He liked the other man a lot, but the scientist’s guilt made his thoughts painfully loud, and Peter was worn down and vulnerable already.
*
They thought they were safe in the Petrelli home.
The Petrelli mother was out at her regular boozy Monday luncheon with her snooty society friends, but Peter would only be gone for a few hours; and Nathan was only a few blocks away at his office. What could possibly happen?
They thought after he’d attacked the boy that morning, he’d gone back into hiding, and they were right. They just didn’t realise that Sylar was hiding right across the street from the Petrelli home. He could see the apartment clearly from the roof of the building he was hiding in. He looked into the building, using the superior eyesight he’d taken from Mai Lin Lewis; and even from that distance, with all the city noise, he could also hear into the apartment using Dale Smither’s skill.
The Haitian was silent as always, but Sylar could just spy him in the shadows of the parlour. Claire- beautiful, delicious, delectable Claire was locked in her room, listening to her radio at an unreasonable volume. The only piece of the puzzle not accounted for was the invisible man. Sylar hadn’t seen or heard him the entire time he’d been observing that morning, so he suspected the bearded Englishman had sneaked out to secretly wander and pilfer, as he tended to do.
After he’d arrived back in New York City, Sylar had discovered the rather remarkable abilities he’d gotten from the boy he’d taken that morning. He suddenly found himself with the uncanny ability to climb anything and everything. His balance, grip and spatial awareness were unparalleled, so he’d practiced a little, scaling the outside of several buildings with the ease and grace of Spiderman, but without the garish red costume. It was such a liberating sensation, that he’d altered his plans slightly. At any rate, it was going to make his next task that much easier.
*
Sylar easily scaled the wall and arrived on the terrace.
The Haitian was the first to go. Sylar grabbed him telekinetically and silently smashed his skull against a wall before he even knew what had hit him. He stood over the mysterious black man’s crumpled form, watching blood pool rapidly around his head like a dank halo, and for a moment he considered taking the man’s brain- the ability to suppress others with special abilities would certain be handy at times; but then he wondered if perhaps adding that ability would negate all his other abilities. It was too great a risk, so he moved on.
He moved further into the apartment, listening intently for sounds that might give away the presence of the invisible Englishman, but the proximity of Claire’s pop music drowned out pretty much all other sounds. He frowned- he was going to have to punish her for that. He made his way to the library- where the man usually seemed to spend his time, but the was no sign or sound of him.
He turned, drawing in a deep breath, a smile slowly creeping across his face, and made his way to Claire’s room. He wished so sincerely that Peter was there to see the little show he and Claire were about to put on. No matter he thought. I’ll get him next. And maybe I’ll humiliate him first, too….
He knocked on the door. The music quietened slightly.
“Come in” Claire called.
Sylar grinned and turned the doorknob.
Claire was lying on the bed, fashion magazines spread out before her, a Hershey bar half eaten in her hand. She turned to look over her shoulder, and it took her a few seconds to register who he was.
He felt a surge of predatorial delight go through him when she did.
Her eyes opened wide in terror, and within a second her fight or flight instincts kicked in. She threw herself off the bed and sprinted across the room, trying to escape him by way of her balcony. He let her get to the door before catching her telekinetically. She screamed and struggled, and Sylar smiled blissfully, already feeling aroused.
“So, you do remember me?” Sylar said conversationally.
Claire screamed, incoherent, and fought against him with all her strength.
“I’m going to take that as a yes” he answered for her. He turned away from her briefly to turn the stereo down. “That’s better” he sighed.
He moved to her, and gripped her hard above her elbows. He was quite certain that he’d physically be able to subdue her, even without his telekinesis- she was such a tiny little girl, so he eased back with his powers.
“Let me go!” she seethed from between clenched teeth, struggling against him.
“No” he said firmly, and threw her backwards onto the bed.
Before she could move he was on top of her. He straddled her, a grin splitting his face as she tried to wriggle away from him. She was even tinier like this, and it simply amazed him that she was so indestructible. He reached out and smoothed stray strands of blonde hair from her face, and she recoiled at his touch. A look of horror was growing on her face- she was starting to realise that Sylar was here for more than just her brain.
“Don’t!” she cried, “Don’t touch me!”
“Try and stop me, little girl,” he said, smiling sweetly at her. He leaned, bringing his mouth to hers. He let her pull her face away, and she started screaming again. He let her have her hands a little too, so he could enjoy the sensation of her pathetically trying to fight him off.
He crushed his mouth to hers again, forcing his tongue between her lips and deep into her mouth. He grabbed her breasts, squeezing them greedily. She pulled her face away after a minute, gasping for breath, crying and coughing. He took her lips again, but jerked away with a cry when she suddenly bit him- hard enough to draw blood. He sat back, his hand reflexively going to his injured lip.
“Ouch!” he said, frowning down at her. He prodded the bloodied wound thoughtfully.
“Like it rough, do you? Well, two can play that game”
He pressed his hips down hard on her crotch, rubbing his erection against her, and smiled when she cried out.
“The harder you make this for me, Claire, the harder I’m going to punish you” he breathed.
Claire drew in a great shuddering gasp, and suddenly stilled, terror plain in her eyes. Sylar stroked her hair lovingly before moving his hands back down to her breasts.
“Good girl” he whispered.
Silent tears streamed down Claire’s face as he tore open her sweater, then roughly pulled the cups of her bra aside, exposing her breasts. He squeezed her nipples between his fingertips, and ground his hips into her again, letting out a small, pleased moan. He leaned further down, flicking his tongue across one nipple. Claire let out a sob, her face contorting with disgust.
“Damn, I wish Peter were here to see this” Sylar murmured to Claire. Her mouth trembled.
Sylar thought hard for a moment. “You know what, he’s not going to get back in time for the show, but that doesn’t mean I can’t leave him a little present….”
He climbed off Claire, and a flicker of hope lit her eyes for a second.
“No, dear, I’m not finished with you. I just want to move the party to a different venue.” He said, roughly grabbing her arm and hauling to her feet. He tried to drag her from the room, but she intentionally went limp, forcing him to lift her with his telekinesis. He rolled his eyes and pulled her into the hallway.
“Now. Which one is his room?” Sylar asked. He looked down the hallway.
He was distracted for a second, focused on something else- so Claire took her chance. She spun on her right foot, bringing her left knee up, violently connecting it with Sylar’s crotch.
His face went slack as agony spread through the lower half of his body. His telekinetic grip on her evaporated as he began to crumple. He let out a great cry of pain, and Claire ran for it. She sprinted down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her.
“Help! Help me!” She shrieked, panicked. She made it to parlour when she suddenly slipped, hitting the floor hard, flat on her back. The breath was knocked from her lungs, and she struggled to gasp for air as she tried to gain purchase to stand on the slick floor.
She cried out with shock when she realised she was covered in blood. She looked at her hands- they were sticky and red.
She froze when she saw him. The Haitian lay in a bloodied heap where he’d fallen, his eyes glazed, lifeless and staring. Claire screamed.
A moment later Sylar staggered into the parlour. Claire screamed again and stumbled to her feet. She tried to run but it was too late- Sylar knocked her over with his powers. He was doubled over in discomfort, face tense with anger.
“You nasty little bitch!” Sylar growled. “Now I remember why I hated all the cheer-whores when I was in high school.”
“You killed him!” Claire cried.
“Yes I did. You think that’s messed up, just wait til you see what I’ve got planned for you!” he said, managing to grin again. He grimaced and pressed a palm to his crotch.
“I think I can still manage. But you’re going to have to kiss it better” he said darkly. He reached down and grabbed her by the ankles, and began to drag her towards the hallway.
“Kick me in the cock again, and I’ll shove it all the way down your pretty throat” he threatened. “But then again, I might just do that anyway” he added.
He made his way down the hall, kicking in doors as he went, until he found the room he wanted.
“Ahh… I bet this is uncle Peter’s room.” Sylar said with a grin. He reached down and dragged Claire to her feet, then shoved her roughly into the room as he continued to look around.
“Movie posters, a pile of dirty clothes, cum stains on the bedspread. Yeah, I’d say an emotionally immature man lives in here.” Sylar said flatly. He spun Claire around to face him. “Let’s see if we can’t add to the stains on the bedspread” he said playful, and pushed her roughly backwards. He moved over her again. “Now, where were we?” he puzzled. “Oh, of course” he breathed, fondling her breasts again. He leaned in to her again.
“No biting, Claire. If you hurt me again, you’re going to die choking on my dick. I mean it,” he said menacingly. He pushed his mouth to hers, and she moaned pitifully. He moved one hand down to reach under her skirt, and she tensed.
“C’mon” he whispered gently. “I know what you cheerleaders are like. Stop acting like you’ve never had your pussy touched before”
Claire squirmed and wept as his fingers rubbed her through her panties. He grinned and chuckled lightly, pushing his hand down the front of the pants, fingers pressing roughly against her delicate quim.
“Don’t,” Claire moaned. “Please don’t”
“But I want to” he whispered. He pushed a finger inside her and she wailed in anguish. He pumped it in and out of her, his other hand still groping at her breasts.
“Oh god” he muttered to himself. “You’re ripe for the picking.” He rubbed his hard-on against her hip and moaned with anticipation again. He pulled his finger roughly out of her, and then grabbed her panties with both hands, slowly pulling them down. He drew them to her knees, and then stoked his fingers up the insides of her thighs to her quim again. She squirmed and cried, but he pinned her to the bed even harder with his telekinesis. He lay over her again, rubbing himself against her belly.
“Do you want to see it?” he whispered.
“No!” Claire cried.
“But you’ve made it so hard. It’s only fair you get to see what’s coming to you,” he said. He sat back and straddled her, then slowly began to undo his pants, smiling when he glanced up and took in the horrified look of anticipation on her face. He carefully pulled his rock-hard dick out. Claire whimpered in fear and looked away.
“I’ve been told it’s pretty impressive,” he said shyly. “What do you think, Claire?”
She stared straight ahead at the ceiling, refusing to look at him, but he could see the fear in her eyes.
“It’s probably going to hurt when I put it in you.” He said. “I think I’m going to enjoy that.” He reached down and finished removing her panties, then forced her legs further apart. He eased up again with his TK, letting her squirm and tremble as he reached up and stroked her soft folds again. She sobbed silently, her shoulders heaving. He smiled at her, and leaned forward over her. He took his cock in one hand, and rubbed it against the inside of her thigh.
“I’m going to tear you open, right here on Peter’s bed. Then I’m going to take your brain, He’ll be the one who finds you. He’s going to see you with your legs spread, and know I had you.” Sylar said, lips curling into a sadistic grin.
“No” Claire murmured “No.” she began to say it over and over again, and Sylar laughed.
Then suddenly, he tensed and paused. Claire continued to mutter, and he silenced her with a rough hand over her mouth as he tilted his head, an ear towards the door.
He could hear footsteps. He smiled.
“Maybe I’ll get my wish after all,” he said to Claire. He seized her vocal chords so she couldn’t utter a sound, and hastily tucked his cock away so he could re-do his pants.
Holding Claire firmly in place with telekinesis, he slipped silently off the bed. The footsteps had gotten louder- whoever was coming had broken into a run. Sylar heard the steps outside the door, and steeled himself.
Suddenly, he was forced backwards with a rival blast of TK. He hit the wall behind him with a crash. Peter had burst into the room, invisible, and caught the bigger man off guard. Sylar recovered quickly, and threw a blast of ice, which Peter refected straight back. Sylar hit the floor hard to avoid the razor-sharp ice crystals, and his hold on Claire was broken.
“Peter!” she screamed.
“Claire!” Peter cried, his eyes wide. It had only taken him a second to read the situation, and he realised what he’d walked in on. A fresh wave of adrenaline coursed through him. He picked Sylar up with TK and threw the larger man against the wall violently, knocking the breath out of him.
“Run, Claire! Get out!” Peter screamed. Claire’s face was seized in a rictus of terror. She took two steps towards the door before Sylar knocked her feet out from under her again, and she fell to the floor in a heap. Peter countered Sylar’s strike on Claire, freeing her, but leaving himself exposed. In a heartbeat, Sylar had taken advantage of that, and he blasted Peter out into the hallway.
Peter hit the wall, feeling several of his vertebra crush under the impact. He sank to the floor, fingers of black agony closing into his vision.
“Claire” he gasped. He forced himself to stay conscious, to think of the beautiful girl he was willing to die to protect. He gasped for breath as his bones began to reform and then knit. It only took a moment, but by the time he was on his feet again, Sylar was on him. The other man’s hands closed around his throat, lifting him easily off the floor. Sylar smashed him backwards against the wall.
“You’re just in time to watch me fuck Claire” Sylar said, teeth bared into a grotesque imitation of a smile.
“Leave her alone” Peter gasped.
“She’s mine, Peter. And after I have her, I’m taking you. I’m just not sure if I’m going to fuck you first, too.”
A furious surge of adrenaline hit Peter, and he summoned enough control to throw Sylar backwards. The other man’s hands were still tightly clasped around his throat, and they both collapsed into a heap. They struggled to their feet, hitting each other with TK again.
But Sylar recovered faster. He slammed Peter against the wall and held him there, advancing on him unnaturally fast.
“Stop making it so difficult!” Sylar screamed, his patience finally had worn out. He lost concentration for a split second….
Before Sylar could react, Claire smashed him across the back of the head with the lamp from Peter’s desk. Peter’s eyes went wide with surprise, as Sylar’s grip loosened. It was all Peter needed. Before Sylar could recover, he made a fist, and roundhouse-punched the other man in the head.
Sylar hit the floor hard, unconscious- at least for a few seconds.
“Go!” Peter screamed.
Claire didn’t need to be told twice. She dropped the broken, bloody lamp. They sprinted down the hall together, reaching the parlour. Peter looked in horror at the Haitian.
“My mom!” he cried.
“She went out this morning.” Claire said.
They both turned in terror as they heard heavy footsteps- Sylar was on his feet again.
There was no time to get to the front door or the terrace.
“Peter!” Claire cried, and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the huge bay windows that looked out onto Central Park. Peter looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief as he realised what she was about to do.
They ran full speed at the windows, and hit just as Sylar burst into the room. But Sylar was too late.
Claire hit the window first, smashing through the plate glass in a violent shower of shards and blood. She felt hot stabs of pain in every part of her body. Blood flew from the cuts, spraying random patterns in the air around her.
Peter went through after Claire, but he was hit all over with fragments. He could feel Claire’s protective grip on one wrist as they jumped, and threw his spare arm across his eyes until they were clear.
Gravity caught her, and she started to free-fall. As she continued to tumble through the air, Peter’s wrist was ripped from her grasp. She opened her eyes to see the ground rushing towards her, and wondered what it was going to feel like to hit the ground from thirty storeys up. Would she really be able to survive this?
Suddenly she felt a strong grip on her wrist. She looked up. Peter was in the air above her, but he wasn’t falling- he was flying. He grasped her, stopping her freefall short, but physics had other ideas; and she cried out as her shoulder dislocated.
“Sorry!” Peter cried, wrapping an arm across her shoulder. He released her wrist, feeling the shoulder joint reduce itself, and wrapped his other arm under Claire’s legs, cradling her to his chest. He shot upwards again, and then landed them on the roof of his building.
“Claire!’ he gasped, setting her down to look at her.
“I’m okay Peter!” she said, “We can’t stay here! He could come after us!” she said urgently.
“I need to make sure you’re okay!” he said desperately, his trained eyes searching her for injury.
“I’m fine! Peter, please, let’s just go!” Claire said in a harsh whisper.
Peter’s shoulders were heaving with exhaustion and emotion, but he gathered her into his arms again and pushed off.
As they flew over the city, Claire huddled in Peter’s arms. It didn’t even occur to her to be scared of flying through the air like that. She was in deep shock and freezing cold, and wanted to be as far away from the scene of the attack as possible.
They flew for almost an hour, Peter running on pure adrenaline. Finally, he had to set them down, and found his way inside the belltower of a church. He collapsed in exhaustion, and huddled on the floor. Claire crawled over to him, and he drew her into his arms. She was shaking hard, and Peter grasped her and held her as tightly as he dared. He could feel himself trembling with shock and exertion. His mind raced, and a sudden, horrible though came to him.
“Oh god” he whispered. He let go of Claire with one hand and reached into his pocket. His cell phone was switched off, so he turned it on and waited until he got a signal.
“Nathan!” he said urgently into the phone.
“My god! Peter! Where are you? Is Claire-”
“She’s here, Nathan. She’s with me.”
“Are you safe?”
“We’re… we’re okay. It was Sylar, Nathan”
“I know. Jesus, Peter… please tell me you’re all right,” Nathan breathed.
“He was trying to- he attacked Claire. He killed the Haitian”
“I know, Pete”
“Is mom-”
“Mom’s fine. She didn’t get back until after I did. Mohinder’s here, too. Peter, where are you? We’ve got to get you to a safehouse.”
It took Peter several minutes to figure out where he’d brought them. Nathan said he would organise for them to be picked up. And by the time a car arrived for them he would have found them somewhere to go. Somewhere far away….
Claire had been silent the entire time, curled against Peter. She clung to the front of his bloodied shirt with one hand, while her other hand obsessively smoothed her skirt down over her thighs.
“Claire?” Peter said gently.
“He killed the Haitian man,” Claire said quietly.
“I know. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Peter said gently.
“He tried to…” Claire started.
Peter swallowed nervously. “Claire… did he hurt you?”
“I tried to fight him, but he was so strong, Peter! He was so big and he pinned me down-”
“Oh god” Peter sighed, closing his eyes.
“If you hadn’t come in, he was going to- to…”
“We need to get you to the hospital, Claire. You need to be… examined.”
“No!” Claire cried. “He didn’t do anything. You stopped him,” Claire breathed.
“Claire” Peter said gently. “Sometimes… when a person get attacked… they block out what happened, or the just get knocked out. Sometimes they can’t remember the assault… You have to go to the hospital, they need to give you medications…”
“No. He didn’t! He was going to rape me, but he didn’t!” Claire cried, grabbing her skirt with both hand and forcing firmly over her legs. “I don’t want anyone to touch me! Please!” she begged.
Peter wrapped his arms around her and she finally broke down, sobbing violently against his chest.
“He can’t hurt you now, Claire,” he whispered into her ear, holding her tight against his chest. “We’re going to go away. Somewhere Sylar can’t find us, or hurt us.”
“But what about all the other people he wants to hurt?” Claire asked.
“We’re going to stop him, Claire. Me, and Nathan, Mohinder and Hiro Nakamura. And there will be others to help us. He’s never going to hurt you again. I swear it to you. I will end him for what he did to you today. And for everyone else he’s hurt.” Peter said darkly.
“I don’t want to lose you” Claire whispered, looking up at him.
Peter gazed down at her, smoothing a hand through her hair.
“You won’t, Claire. I’ll take care of you.” He whispered.
*
What he needed at that moment was Claire’s ability to heal. He’d fled shortly after Peter and Claire had gone out the window. As desperately as he wanted to taste her, he had been in no condition to fight anymore. He cringed as his fingers made their way across the back of his scalp, gingerly touching the wound Claire had inflicted. It was crusted with blood and ached horribly, and his ears rang loudly, either from concussion or his inability to control his sensitive hearing. She was going to pay for that Sylar seethed, dabbing at the injury with a cloth. He drew in a deep breath, which was also agony. He was certain he had several fractured ribs from being slammed against the wall by Peter, and his eye was badly swollen from where the smaller man had punched him. It went without saying that Peter was going to suffer, too.
Wherever they were, Sylar would track them down. And they would beg for death when he did. Then he would be unstoppable.
Author: Bombshell_chic
Characters/Pairings: Claire, Sylar and Peter, with other characters guest-starring.
Rating: NC17/R18+ for part two
Warnings: Strong, graphic sexual violence including non-con; Teenaged minor in a sexual situation; Graphic violence, gore and coarse language; Strong adult themes; Character death.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of NBC/Tim Kring etc. I make no profit from writing or posting this. Song lyrics for this chapter by Robbie Williams.
Spoiler alert: Episode 18, then it goes wildly AU, especially with the whole timeframe thing….
Summary: The safety of the Petrelli household is violated when Sylar attacks Claire.
Notes: I wrote the fight scene before I saw episode 19, and I was amused by some of the vague similarities. (Peter and Sylar fighting… mmm…!) Also, this is all very non-canon, and I hope it makes sense. It was pretty full-on to write. Feedback appreciated.
Cursed, since your birth dear
And your worst fears have all come true
Babe you’re not the first here on earth dear
‘Cause I’m still here
and I’m cursed, too, cursed like you.
-Cursed, Robbie Williams
He’d created the perfect diversion.
For weeks he’d been watching them, stalking them, etching their movements and habits and schedules into his memory. So he eventually settled on a way to get almost all of them out of the house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get everything he wanted, but he just couldn’t wait any longer.
It was going to happen on a Monday.
And he knew the perfect way to lure them out of the house.
*
Killing people had taken a little getting used to at first, but it was easier when he used his powers. Not just easier to accomplish, but easier to justify to himself. Now he had no trouble murdering those who could benefit him- bring him closer to completion and perfection. And if anyone got in his way, well they were just collateral damage. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun in killing them. He never left any victims alive, if he could help it. No witnesses- it was easier that way.
But this one was different. He needed bait to dangle in front of them. Something else to keep them on their toes. So on Monday morning, he dressed as a UPS worker, and rang the doorbell of a modest house in a little town in upstate New York.
He knocked the old man out first, and then went after the boy. The old man didn’t see when Sylar scalped the boy, or took his brain, but he came around shortly thereafter. He saw what was left, and Sylar had a good, long conversation with him all about it. Then he left.
*
Nathan Petrelli had sources everywhere. He had a man at the FBI who worked the switchboard and was keeping an ear out for him. News tended to travel fast around the Bureau, and from department to department, so when he heard talk of a particularly grisly murder, and the name Sylar being bandied about, he knew it was time to pick up the phone.
An anonymous phone call had been made to 911 that morning. The police had responded, and the scene that greeted the officers made them all sick to their stomachs. A boy, barely a teenager was dead, his head had been cut open, the brain removed and nowhere in sight. His grandfather had been tortured a little, but left alive- pinned to a wall. The elderly man had been rushed to the hospital, and after several hours in surgery, his condition was listed as serious but stable.
Nathan had pulled quite a lot of strings to get Mohinder and Peter in to see the grandfather. Mohinder tried to ask the man questions about what had happened, while Peter struggled to keep the man’s thoughts out of his head, wanting to cry and throw up by the end of it. He left Mohinder at the hospital, needing to be alone. He took a train back to New York City, because he didn’t think he could stand being cooped up in the car with Mohinder. He liked the other man a lot, but the scientist’s guilt made his thoughts painfully loud, and Peter was worn down and vulnerable already.
*
They thought they were safe in the Petrelli home.
The Petrelli mother was out at her regular boozy Monday luncheon with her snooty society friends, but Peter would only be gone for a few hours; and Nathan was only a few blocks away at his office. What could possibly happen?
They thought after he’d attacked the boy that morning, he’d gone back into hiding, and they were right. They just didn’t realise that Sylar was hiding right across the street from the Petrelli home. He could see the apartment clearly from the roof of the building he was hiding in. He looked into the building, using the superior eyesight he’d taken from Mai Lin Lewis; and even from that distance, with all the city noise, he could also hear into the apartment using Dale Smither’s skill.
The Haitian was silent as always, but Sylar could just spy him in the shadows of the parlour. Claire- beautiful, delicious, delectable Claire was locked in her room, listening to her radio at an unreasonable volume. The only piece of the puzzle not accounted for was the invisible man. Sylar hadn’t seen or heard him the entire time he’d been observing that morning, so he suspected the bearded Englishman had sneaked out to secretly wander and pilfer, as he tended to do.
After he’d arrived back in New York City, Sylar had discovered the rather remarkable abilities he’d gotten from the boy he’d taken that morning. He suddenly found himself with the uncanny ability to climb anything and everything. His balance, grip and spatial awareness were unparalleled, so he’d practiced a little, scaling the outside of several buildings with the ease and grace of Spiderman, but without the garish red costume. It was such a liberating sensation, that he’d altered his plans slightly. At any rate, it was going to make his next task that much easier.
*
Sylar easily scaled the wall and arrived on the terrace.
The Haitian was the first to go. Sylar grabbed him telekinetically and silently smashed his skull against a wall before he even knew what had hit him. He stood over the mysterious black man’s crumpled form, watching blood pool rapidly around his head like a dank halo, and for a moment he considered taking the man’s brain- the ability to suppress others with special abilities would certain be handy at times; but then he wondered if perhaps adding that ability would negate all his other abilities. It was too great a risk, so he moved on.
He moved further into the apartment, listening intently for sounds that might give away the presence of the invisible Englishman, but the proximity of Claire’s pop music drowned out pretty much all other sounds. He frowned- he was going to have to punish her for that. He made his way to the library- where the man usually seemed to spend his time, but the was no sign or sound of him.
He turned, drawing in a deep breath, a smile slowly creeping across his face, and made his way to Claire’s room. He wished so sincerely that Peter was there to see the little show he and Claire were about to put on. No matter he thought. I’ll get him next. And maybe I’ll humiliate him first, too….
He knocked on the door. The music quietened slightly.
“Come in” Claire called.
Sylar grinned and turned the doorknob.
Claire was lying on the bed, fashion magazines spread out before her, a Hershey bar half eaten in her hand. She turned to look over her shoulder, and it took her a few seconds to register who he was.
He felt a surge of predatorial delight go through him when she did.
Her eyes opened wide in terror, and within a second her fight or flight instincts kicked in. She threw herself off the bed and sprinted across the room, trying to escape him by way of her balcony. He let her get to the door before catching her telekinetically. She screamed and struggled, and Sylar smiled blissfully, already feeling aroused.
“So, you do remember me?” Sylar said conversationally.
Claire screamed, incoherent, and fought against him with all her strength.
“I’m going to take that as a yes” he answered for her. He turned away from her briefly to turn the stereo down. “That’s better” he sighed.
He moved to her, and gripped her hard above her elbows. He was quite certain that he’d physically be able to subdue her, even without his telekinesis- she was such a tiny little girl, so he eased back with his powers.
“Let me go!” she seethed from between clenched teeth, struggling against him.
“No” he said firmly, and threw her backwards onto the bed.
Before she could move he was on top of her. He straddled her, a grin splitting his face as she tried to wriggle away from him. She was even tinier like this, and it simply amazed him that she was so indestructible. He reached out and smoothed stray strands of blonde hair from her face, and she recoiled at his touch. A look of horror was growing on her face- she was starting to realise that Sylar was here for more than just her brain.
“Don’t!” she cried, “Don’t touch me!”
“Try and stop me, little girl,” he said, smiling sweetly at her. He leaned, bringing his mouth to hers. He let her pull her face away, and she started screaming again. He let her have her hands a little too, so he could enjoy the sensation of her pathetically trying to fight him off.
He crushed his mouth to hers again, forcing his tongue between her lips and deep into her mouth. He grabbed her breasts, squeezing them greedily. She pulled her face away after a minute, gasping for breath, crying and coughing. He took her lips again, but jerked away with a cry when she suddenly bit him- hard enough to draw blood. He sat back, his hand reflexively going to his injured lip.
“Ouch!” he said, frowning down at her. He prodded the bloodied wound thoughtfully.
“Like it rough, do you? Well, two can play that game”
He pressed his hips down hard on her crotch, rubbing his erection against her, and smiled when she cried out.
“The harder you make this for me, Claire, the harder I’m going to punish you” he breathed.
Claire drew in a great shuddering gasp, and suddenly stilled, terror plain in her eyes. Sylar stroked her hair lovingly before moving his hands back down to her breasts.
“Good girl” he whispered.
Silent tears streamed down Claire’s face as he tore open her sweater, then roughly pulled the cups of her bra aside, exposing her breasts. He squeezed her nipples between his fingertips, and ground his hips into her again, letting out a small, pleased moan. He leaned further down, flicking his tongue across one nipple. Claire let out a sob, her face contorting with disgust.
“Damn, I wish Peter were here to see this” Sylar murmured to Claire. Her mouth trembled.
Sylar thought hard for a moment. “You know what, he’s not going to get back in time for the show, but that doesn’t mean I can’t leave him a little present….”
He climbed off Claire, and a flicker of hope lit her eyes for a second.
“No, dear, I’m not finished with you. I just want to move the party to a different venue.” He said, roughly grabbing her arm and hauling to her feet. He tried to drag her from the room, but she intentionally went limp, forcing him to lift her with his telekinesis. He rolled his eyes and pulled her into the hallway.
“Now. Which one is his room?” Sylar asked. He looked down the hallway.
He was distracted for a second, focused on something else- so Claire took her chance. She spun on her right foot, bringing her left knee up, violently connecting it with Sylar’s crotch.
His face went slack as agony spread through the lower half of his body. His telekinetic grip on her evaporated as he began to crumple. He let out a great cry of pain, and Claire ran for it. She sprinted down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her.
“Help! Help me!” She shrieked, panicked. She made it to parlour when she suddenly slipped, hitting the floor hard, flat on her back. The breath was knocked from her lungs, and she struggled to gasp for air as she tried to gain purchase to stand on the slick floor.
She cried out with shock when she realised she was covered in blood. She looked at her hands- they were sticky and red.
She froze when she saw him. The Haitian lay in a bloodied heap where he’d fallen, his eyes glazed, lifeless and staring. Claire screamed.
A moment later Sylar staggered into the parlour. Claire screamed again and stumbled to her feet. She tried to run but it was too late- Sylar knocked her over with his powers. He was doubled over in discomfort, face tense with anger.
“You nasty little bitch!” Sylar growled. “Now I remember why I hated all the cheer-whores when I was in high school.”
“You killed him!” Claire cried.
“Yes I did. You think that’s messed up, just wait til you see what I’ve got planned for you!” he said, managing to grin again. He grimaced and pressed a palm to his crotch.
“I think I can still manage. But you’re going to have to kiss it better” he said darkly. He reached down and grabbed her by the ankles, and began to drag her towards the hallway.
“Kick me in the cock again, and I’ll shove it all the way down your pretty throat” he threatened. “But then again, I might just do that anyway” he added.
He made his way down the hall, kicking in doors as he went, until he found the room he wanted.
“Ahh… I bet this is uncle Peter’s room.” Sylar said with a grin. He reached down and dragged Claire to her feet, then shoved her roughly into the room as he continued to look around.
“Movie posters, a pile of dirty clothes, cum stains on the bedspread. Yeah, I’d say an emotionally immature man lives in here.” Sylar said flatly. He spun Claire around to face him. “Let’s see if we can’t add to the stains on the bedspread” he said playful, and pushed her roughly backwards. He moved over her again. “Now, where were we?” he puzzled. “Oh, of course” he breathed, fondling her breasts again. He leaned in to her again.
“No biting, Claire. If you hurt me again, you’re going to die choking on my dick. I mean it,” he said menacingly. He pushed his mouth to hers, and she moaned pitifully. He moved one hand down to reach under her skirt, and she tensed.
“C’mon” he whispered gently. “I know what you cheerleaders are like. Stop acting like you’ve never had your pussy touched before”
Claire squirmed and wept as his fingers rubbed her through her panties. He grinned and chuckled lightly, pushing his hand down the front of the pants, fingers pressing roughly against her delicate quim.
“Don’t,” Claire moaned. “Please don’t”
“But I want to” he whispered. He pushed a finger inside her and she wailed in anguish. He pumped it in and out of her, his other hand still groping at her breasts.
“Oh god” he muttered to himself. “You’re ripe for the picking.” He rubbed his hard-on against her hip and moaned with anticipation again. He pulled his finger roughly out of her, and then grabbed her panties with both hands, slowly pulling them down. He drew them to her knees, and then stoked his fingers up the insides of her thighs to her quim again. She squirmed and cried, but he pinned her to the bed even harder with his telekinesis. He lay over her again, rubbing himself against her belly.
“Do you want to see it?” he whispered.
“No!” Claire cried.
“But you’ve made it so hard. It’s only fair you get to see what’s coming to you,” he said. He sat back and straddled her, then slowly began to undo his pants, smiling when he glanced up and took in the horrified look of anticipation on her face. He carefully pulled his rock-hard dick out. Claire whimpered in fear and looked away.
“I’ve been told it’s pretty impressive,” he said shyly. “What do you think, Claire?”
She stared straight ahead at the ceiling, refusing to look at him, but he could see the fear in her eyes.
“It’s probably going to hurt when I put it in you.” He said. “I think I’m going to enjoy that.” He reached down and finished removing her panties, then forced her legs further apart. He eased up again with his TK, letting her squirm and tremble as he reached up and stroked her soft folds again. She sobbed silently, her shoulders heaving. He smiled at her, and leaned forward over her. He took his cock in one hand, and rubbed it against the inside of her thigh.
“I’m going to tear you open, right here on Peter’s bed. Then I’m going to take your brain, He’ll be the one who finds you. He’s going to see you with your legs spread, and know I had you.” Sylar said, lips curling into a sadistic grin.
“No” Claire murmured “No.” she began to say it over and over again, and Sylar laughed.
Then suddenly, he tensed and paused. Claire continued to mutter, and he silenced her with a rough hand over her mouth as he tilted his head, an ear towards the door.
He could hear footsteps. He smiled.
“Maybe I’ll get my wish after all,” he said to Claire. He seized her vocal chords so she couldn’t utter a sound, and hastily tucked his cock away so he could re-do his pants.
Holding Claire firmly in place with telekinesis, he slipped silently off the bed. The footsteps had gotten louder- whoever was coming had broken into a run. Sylar heard the steps outside the door, and steeled himself.
Suddenly, he was forced backwards with a rival blast of TK. He hit the wall behind him with a crash. Peter had burst into the room, invisible, and caught the bigger man off guard. Sylar recovered quickly, and threw a blast of ice, which Peter refected straight back. Sylar hit the floor hard to avoid the razor-sharp ice crystals, and his hold on Claire was broken.
“Peter!” she screamed.
“Claire!” Peter cried, his eyes wide. It had only taken him a second to read the situation, and he realised what he’d walked in on. A fresh wave of adrenaline coursed through him. He picked Sylar up with TK and threw the larger man against the wall violently, knocking the breath out of him.
“Run, Claire! Get out!” Peter screamed. Claire’s face was seized in a rictus of terror. She took two steps towards the door before Sylar knocked her feet out from under her again, and she fell to the floor in a heap. Peter countered Sylar’s strike on Claire, freeing her, but leaving himself exposed. In a heartbeat, Sylar had taken advantage of that, and he blasted Peter out into the hallway.
Peter hit the wall, feeling several of his vertebra crush under the impact. He sank to the floor, fingers of black agony closing into his vision.
“Claire” he gasped. He forced himself to stay conscious, to think of the beautiful girl he was willing to die to protect. He gasped for breath as his bones began to reform and then knit. It only took a moment, but by the time he was on his feet again, Sylar was on him. The other man’s hands closed around his throat, lifting him easily off the floor. Sylar smashed him backwards against the wall.
“You’re just in time to watch me fuck Claire” Sylar said, teeth bared into a grotesque imitation of a smile.
“Leave her alone” Peter gasped.
“She’s mine, Peter. And after I have her, I’m taking you. I’m just not sure if I’m going to fuck you first, too.”
A furious surge of adrenaline hit Peter, and he summoned enough control to throw Sylar backwards. The other man’s hands were still tightly clasped around his throat, and they both collapsed into a heap. They struggled to their feet, hitting each other with TK again.
But Sylar recovered faster. He slammed Peter against the wall and held him there, advancing on him unnaturally fast.
“Stop making it so difficult!” Sylar screamed, his patience finally had worn out. He lost concentration for a split second….
Before Sylar could react, Claire smashed him across the back of the head with the lamp from Peter’s desk. Peter’s eyes went wide with surprise, as Sylar’s grip loosened. It was all Peter needed. Before Sylar could recover, he made a fist, and roundhouse-punched the other man in the head.
Sylar hit the floor hard, unconscious- at least for a few seconds.
“Go!” Peter screamed.
Claire didn’t need to be told twice. She dropped the broken, bloody lamp. They sprinted down the hall together, reaching the parlour. Peter looked in horror at the Haitian.
“My mom!” he cried.
“She went out this morning.” Claire said.
They both turned in terror as they heard heavy footsteps- Sylar was on his feet again.
There was no time to get to the front door or the terrace.
“Peter!” Claire cried, and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the huge bay windows that looked out onto Central Park. Peter looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief as he realised what she was about to do.
They ran full speed at the windows, and hit just as Sylar burst into the room. But Sylar was too late.
Claire hit the window first, smashing through the plate glass in a violent shower of shards and blood. She felt hot stabs of pain in every part of her body. Blood flew from the cuts, spraying random patterns in the air around her.
Peter went through after Claire, but he was hit all over with fragments. He could feel Claire’s protective grip on one wrist as they jumped, and threw his spare arm across his eyes until they were clear.
Gravity caught her, and she started to free-fall. As she continued to tumble through the air, Peter’s wrist was ripped from her grasp. She opened her eyes to see the ground rushing towards her, and wondered what it was going to feel like to hit the ground from thirty storeys up. Would she really be able to survive this?
Suddenly she felt a strong grip on her wrist. She looked up. Peter was in the air above her, but he wasn’t falling- he was flying. He grasped her, stopping her freefall short, but physics had other ideas; and she cried out as her shoulder dislocated.
“Sorry!” Peter cried, wrapping an arm across her shoulder. He released her wrist, feeling the shoulder joint reduce itself, and wrapped his other arm under Claire’s legs, cradling her to his chest. He shot upwards again, and then landed them on the roof of his building.
“Claire!’ he gasped, setting her down to look at her.
“I’m okay Peter!” she said, “We can’t stay here! He could come after us!” she said urgently.
“I need to make sure you’re okay!” he said desperately, his trained eyes searching her for injury.
“I’m fine! Peter, please, let’s just go!” Claire said in a harsh whisper.
Peter’s shoulders were heaving with exhaustion and emotion, but he gathered her into his arms again and pushed off.
As they flew over the city, Claire huddled in Peter’s arms. It didn’t even occur to her to be scared of flying through the air like that. She was in deep shock and freezing cold, and wanted to be as far away from the scene of the attack as possible.
They flew for almost an hour, Peter running on pure adrenaline. Finally, he had to set them down, and found his way inside the belltower of a church. He collapsed in exhaustion, and huddled on the floor. Claire crawled over to him, and he drew her into his arms. She was shaking hard, and Peter grasped her and held her as tightly as he dared. He could feel himself trembling with shock and exertion. His mind raced, and a sudden, horrible though came to him.
“Oh god” he whispered. He let go of Claire with one hand and reached into his pocket. His cell phone was switched off, so he turned it on and waited until he got a signal.
“Nathan!” he said urgently into the phone.
“My god! Peter! Where are you? Is Claire-”
“She’s here, Nathan. She’s with me.”
“Are you safe?”
“We’re… we’re okay. It was Sylar, Nathan”
“I know. Jesus, Peter… please tell me you’re all right,” Nathan breathed.
“He was trying to- he attacked Claire. He killed the Haitian”
“I know, Pete”
“Is mom-”
“Mom’s fine. She didn’t get back until after I did. Mohinder’s here, too. Peter, where are you? We’ve got to get you to a safehouse.”
It took Peter several minutes to figure out where he’d brought them. Nathan said he would organise for them to be picked up. And by the time a car arrived for them he would have found them somewhere to go. Somewhere far away….
Claire had been silent the entire time, curled against Peter. She clung to the front of his bloodied shirt with one hand, while her other hand obsessively smoothed her skirt down over her thighs.
“Claire?” Peter said gently.
“He killed the Haitian man,” Claire said quietly.
“I know. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Peter said gently.
“He tried to…” Claire started.
Peter swallowed nervously. “Claire… did he hurt you?”
“I tried to fight him, but he was so strong, Peter! He was so big and he pinned me down-”
“Oh god” Peter sighed, closing his eyes.
“If you hadn’t come in, he was going to- to…”
“We need to get you to the hospital, Claire. You need to be… examined.”
“No!” Claire cried. “He didn’t do anything. You stopped him,” Claire breathed.
“Claire” Peter said gently. “Sometimes… when a person get attacked… they block out what happened, or the just get knocked out. Sometimes they can’t remember the assault… You have to go to the hospital, they need to give you medications…”
“No. He didn’t! He was going to rape me, but he didn’t!” Claire cried, grabbing her skirt with both hand and forcing firmly over her legs. “I don’t want anyone to touch me! Please!” she begged.
Peter wrapped his arms around her and she finally broke down, sobbing violently against his chest.
“He can’t hurt you now, Claire,” he whispered into her ear, holding her tight against his chest. “We’re going to go away. Somewhere Sylar can’t find us, or hurt us.”
“But what about all the other people he wants to hurt?” Claire asked.
“We’re going to stop him, Claire. Me, and Nathan, Mohinder and Hiro Nakamura. And there will be others to help us. He’s never going to hurt you again. I swear it to you. I will end him for what he did to you today. And for everyone else he’s hurt.” Peter said darkly.
“I don’t want to lose you” Claire whispered, looking up at him.
Peter gazed down at her, smoothing a hand through her hair.
“You won’t, Claire. I’ll take care of you.” He whispered.
*
What he needed at that moment was Claire’s ability to heal. He’d fled shortly after Peter and Claire had gone out the window. As desperately as he wanted to taste her, he had been in no condition to fight anymore. He cringed as his fingers made their way across the back of his scalp, gingerly touching the wound Claire had inflicted. It was crusted with blood and ached horribly, and his ears rang loudly, either from concussion or his inability to control his sensitive hearing. She was going to pay for that Sylar seethed, dabbing at the injury with a cloth. He drew in a deep breath, which was also agony. He was certain he had several fractured ribs from being slammed against the wall by Peter, and his eye was badly swollen from where the smaller man had punched him. It went without saying that Peter was going to suffer, too.
Wherever they were, Sylar would track them down. And they would beg for death when he did. Then he would be unstoppable.