Tim Sprague
Audrey requests him personally. By name. And he gets to wear a tie and a suit like a real detective. He's pulled off his regular routine and taken to the house at the edge of town on the bad end of Wilshire that looks like it's been literally blown apart.
But earlier he and Janice had made love again, and his mind's filled with the passionate embrace he'd missed after three months in the bar and just seeing her again and knowing everything there was to know about her..
Oh god, how'd he find out?
The words are ringing through his head as Audrey leads him up the front walk. There's a body in the morgue that belongs to a oncologist that's been literally burned to a crisp
"...The house belongs to Tim and Barbara Sprague." Audrey said. She'd traded her heels for flats but walking up the grass she figured that she probably shouldn't have bothered. No one lives here anymore
Oh god, how'd he find out?
The words run through Matt's head again. It's quieter here, "So we're thinking this guy Sprague is Sylar?"
"We're not sure." Audrey said, heading up the stairs, "We're gonna need to be careful it-"
Something creaked, and Matt's hand was on his gun before he could think.
Something was moving in the house.
Instantly all cop, He followed Audrey inside as she kicked the door down. A typical home, probably a little on the cheap side. He thought of his own house in the palasades and smiled. This was how it was supposed to be. No freaky-deaky bars, no tofu, nothing but policework and-
Creak Creak.
There it is again.
Creak Creak Creak.
[S'probably nothing.]
"Yeah." Matt licked his lips, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd replied to Audrey's thoughts, "...Let's go."
[...Don't do that.]
The two traded smirks as they shined the lights and weaponry into each room-culminating in the bedroom.
Creak Creak Creak.
"You hear anything?" Audrey raised her gun to eye level, "At all?"
Matt cocked his head to the side, standing behind her, "It-what? no.."
She rolled her eyes, "Up here." Poor guy-
Creak Creak Creak.
They stood at the threshold before Audrey shrugged her shoulders, set her face into a grim line, and kicked at the door in front of them.
It splintered, sending shards across the room. Matt frowned, her kick hadn't been that forceful-warranting-
And then he saw it.
It had exploded.
You joked about messes exploding in rooms, but in this case it looked like it had literally exploded. Feathers and wood splinters littered the room. Sky dappled ruined bedspreads and sheets.
Scorched sheets.
Scorched walls.
Scorched Everything
Creak Creak Creak.
Audrey pulled out the geiger counter, and the room vanished in a haze of clicking and danger warnings.
---------
"This. Mytoproxin?" He thought of his mother, "This stuff's chemotherapy in a pill. We're looking for someone already in the hospital."
Audrey hesitated, "...Barbara Sprague."
They don't have a siren, but that's okay. They don't need one.
There's no thrill in the chase for Matt as he directs her down memorial, watching neighborhood kids scatter. This isn't just some two-bit collar. He can't hear his thoughts yet-
and he doesn't want to.
He wonders if they'll be like Sylar's. White and Dangerous. Horrible and Blank and filled with nothingness. Emptiness.
But this is worse. Was it worse? Was being shot by your own hand thanks to a voice inside your head different from a man who apparently emittetd nuclear power From his hands?
"1800 curies of Radiation." Audrey murmured, turning the car, "-we're going to want to get ourselves tested."
"Whateve-There! Right there!"
-----
Audrey shouts a room number and they're let up like family. Amazing the power of a badge and a gun.
But the floor's already tense. He can tell before they get there. Something's wrong. The thoughts are a whirlwind of activity, bees buzzing in a hive.
He staggered.
"Parkman?"
Matt shook his head.
"Parkman!"
He licked his lips and raised his gun to a defensive position, "We have to hurry."
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