Fic: One More Battle of Wits (Mohinder, Sylar, PG-13, gen)
Title: One More Battle of Wits
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2800
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Warnings: Violence, off-screen character deaths
Spoilers: Through 1.20, "Five Years Gone"
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the
mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Wounded. It kind of took on a life of its own, but the prompt is still in there. Sort of.
Summary: Five years in the future, after Mohinder helps Hiro escape back to the past, he still has to deal with the fallout of Sylar and Peter's fight, and of his own actions.
Mohinder sat on the floor with his head in his hands, ears ringing. Despite the silence in the hallway outside, he didn’t have the strength to look out.
From the other side of the door, he heard a faint call of “Suresh! Are you in there?”
He relaxed for just a moment, before his conscience pricked him. As he raised his head, he caught sight of the body on the floor not far away, and felt a different pang. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Yes.”
The door creaked open on what was left of its hinges, and a moment later, a hand touched his shoulder. “What happened?”
“Your brother was here,” Mohinder said, eyes still closed. “And then...” He trailed off as he tried to gather his thoughts. Something didn’t add up, but he was still too stunned to examine the equation to find out what it was.
Mohinder listened to Nathan’s soft footsteps head around the room and stop. He must have caught sight of the other body. Mohinder waited for the questions and recriminations.
“Where’s the other Nakamura?”
“Back in the past.” Mohinder finally opened his eyes to meet that inscrutable stare. “I had to let him do it, Nathan. The worst thing that can happen is that he can’t change anything. But if there’s any chance at all that he can stop this, we’ve got to take it. Think of all the lives that have been lost or destroyed. We can’t just give up - we have to try everything, for them.”
Nathan’s eyes dropped to the older Hiro’s body for several seconds before coming back to Mohinder. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this. There’s a crisis team on the way, and the situation needs to be brought under control.”
Mohinder frowned. “On the way? Then how did you get here - weren’t you at the dedication?”
“Desperate situations require desperate measures. When I hear that Peter’s thrown his lot in with a terrorist, I do whatever is necessary to get here to intervene.”
“So...you flew.”
“Yes. My secret’s out. There’s no time for regret right now, for either of us - we need to move on to damage control.” He strode forward and held out a hand to help Mohinder up.
“ ‘Damage control’. What does that involve?” Mohinder asked.
“The response team I called for should be here any minute. Head down to the lobby and meet them - give them an overview of the situation before bringing them back up here.” Nathan glanced back at Hiro’s body and then out into hallway. “I’d like...I’d like a few minutes alone with my brother. To say goodbye.”
Mohinder squeezed his shoulder and nodded.
But as he gingerly picked his way down the scorched hallway and paused next to the dark-haired body at the far end of it, he wondered: if Peter was capable of doing all this damage, who had been able to do that to him?
* * * * * * *
“The response is about what we initially projected. For every person who now thinks you’re a monster, there’s another one who thinks you’re an even bigger hero than before, for nobly working to control those with abilities despite being one of them. Polls and an overview of commentary seem to indicate that most people are still wavering in the middle, though. They’re extremely uncomfortable with the idea that you can fly, but you’ve been such a symbol of strength and unity over the past five years that deep down, they’re looking for a justification to keep believing in you. Of course, the fact that you haven’t tried to hide your brother’s involvement in Nakamura’s activities is also in your favor -”
Mohinder interrupted from his corner, “What’s this about an incident at the detention center in Lincoln?”
Nathan and his PR chief looked up. Mohinder tapped the file that lay open across his knees. “There’s a casualty report in here, but no details.”
“I was coming to that next, Dr. Suresh - in fact, that’s why I asked that you be present at this meeting,” the chief said. “Those people are desperate. They fear what their neighbors may do to them. They’re tired of being locked up, and tired of being considered dangerous for reasons completely out of their control. Tensions rose inside the building, there was a confrontation with the guards that escalated...there was some sort of explosion. We’re not sure what caused it, only that it wasn’t toxic or radioactive. But seventeen people died - four specials, five guards, eight civilian workers in the building next door. There’s no way to keep it quiet, and it’s not the only location where frustrations are rising to the danger level.”
He cleared his throat. “These people have heard about the president’s speech and what he had to offer, and they’re ready to give up these abilities they didn’t even ask for, so that they can get on with their lives. They want your cure, Dr. Suresh.”
“Then give it to them,” Nathan said in a dangerous voice.
Mohinder’s mouth opened in horror, but Nathan cut him off before he could say anything: “They’ve said themselves that they don’t want these abilities - they’d rather go back to being normal. Give them the cure. They deserve it.” He stood decisively. “Keep on with the plan we’ve put in place. Unfortunately, I’ve got another appointment right now that can’t be missed. Dr. Suresh, would you come with me?”
Alone in the quiet of the hallway, he murmured, “There’s no other option, Mohinder.”
“It’s murder. Pure and simple.”
“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”
Mohinder stopped, breathless. Nathan put a hand on his shoulder, in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting. “My point is that you did what you thought you had to do, to the Haitian. It was the only viable choice you thought you had. That’s the choice I’m making now. If I tell people that we were wrong, that there isn’t a cure, if I dash the hope that was raised in them...they’ll break. Imagine if riots like this happened across the country. People will resort to vigilantism out of irrational fear for their families’ lives. I’m sacrificing a few to try to preserve order for the many.”
Mohinder shook his head helplessly. But he still kept walking numbly at Nathan’s side, out the door and across the lawn to the waiting limo.
As an aide pulled its door open, there was a distant call of “Petrelli!” behind them, and both men turned. A slim figure stepped out from behind the building and raised its arms. Before Mohinder could react, he heard the crack of a gunshot, followed by another, and Nathan was sagging back against the limo, red spreading unbelievably rapidly across his chest.
Mohinder froze for an instant, and then he and the aide were frantically working in unison to pull Nathan into the back seat. He heard the aide shouting for the driver to go, and quickly looked over his shoulder. He caught sight of the shooter’s back as security struggled with her - a woman, long blonde hair, attacking in broad daylight, what was she thinking to do something this hopeless and suicidal, was it some personal vendetta - and then the car was speeding off. He knelt over Nathan and fumbled at his shirt and finally, desperate to get to the wound to try to staunch the blood flow, he jerked at the fabric, popping one button off as he pulled it open.
There was no bullet hole.
He looked at the blood soaked into Nathan’s shirt. He turned over his hands and looked at it staining the sworls of his fingertips. In disbelief, he swiped his hand down Nathan’s chest, wiping the blood away to search his skin more closely.
No bullet hole. He raised shocked eyes to Nathan’s face.
“How unfortunate.” Nathan sighed. “Things were going so well four days ago, and now I’m suddenly forced to move on to Plan C.”
“Who are you?” Mohinder whispered.
“Oh, Mohinder. You disappoint me, asking the obvious question, especially when there’s an obvious answer. I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t figure it out a long time ago.” Nathan shook his head, and then the air itself seemed to waver. Mohinder blinked, and suddenly it wasn’t Nathan any more. It was, it was -
He realized that he was still straddling the other man’s legs. He climbed backwards and pushed himself as far into the corner of the seat as he could without actually cringing away.
Sylar laughed and pulled himself up into a seated position. “Why, Mohinder, you don’t seem happy to see me! And things were just starting to get interesting.” He reached inside his opened shirt and fished around until he produced a bullet. He shook his head at it. “That was rather unpleasant. Still, it’s better than the alternative, I suppose.” He turned his attention back to Mohinder, whose eyes were huge with shock. “Now, Dr. Suresh, we have to decide what to do about you.”
The car jolted slightly as it hit a pothole, and the movement jerked Mohinder back from blind panic. He glanced at the driver on the other side of the glass, and Sylar laughed. “I don’t think he needs to be disturbed by our discussion. No, as far as he can tell, you’re realizing that I’ve had a very narrow escape, with only a minor wound. And that’s what the staff at the hospital will think, too. This couldn’t have been better timing, actually - an assassination attempt might be just what I need to line the country up behind me again.”
Mohinder tried to force his mind down an orderly path: what to do, what to say, how to get away, how to warn people-
“Mohinder, Mohinder...I know what you’re thinking,” Sylar interrupted. “Parkman keeps serving me well, even after death. I would have taken his ability a long time ago, but he was a useful tool in other ways.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you? Another murder to add to your list.”
Sylar laughed. “I hate to put a dent in your self-righteous anger, but no. Pete’s got lousy aim when he’s rattled, did you know that? Luckily, he hit Parkman in the chest rather than higher up. At least poor Matt had the satisfaction of delivering Hiro to me before he died. And then you wrapped up the Haitian for me! Despite the snags I ran into, I can’t help thinking it was one of the best days of my life: four abilities for the price of one.”
“The younger Hiro made it out in time,” Mohinder said fiercely. “He knows what he needs to do in the past, to stop you. To stop all this from ever happening.”
Sylar smiled almost sadly. “He can’t stop this. He can’t stop you, Mohinder. He can’t stop you from becoming what you’re meant to be.” He laid a hand gently just above Mohinder’s heart. “You never told me...how did it feel, when you killed the Haitian?”
“It felt like something I had to do, for the good of the world.”
“And what about the rush of adrenaline? The instant just after you started when you feared that it would go wrong, a flash like lightning in your chest? The exhilaration when you realized things were playing out just as you’d imagined? The satisfaction of knowing you were going to get exactly what you wanted? You can tell yourself whatever you want to justify it, but the fact remains that you felt it, didn’t you?”
Under the force of Sylar’s stare, he couldn’t come up with a response.
“When I pulled that report from the files and realized you’d suggested extinction the very first time you talked to Nathan, even if it was an off-the-cuff remark...it was still your idea, Mohinder. No one pushed you to come up with it. Oh, I would have, but you came to it all on your own, long before we started working together. That’s when I knew that everything would be all right, when I got past the fear and felt the exhilaration. And now...now it’s finally time for the satisfaction. I’ve waited a long time for this, Mohinder.”
Mohinder felt himself edging towards panic again. He had an overwhelming need to get out, to warn the world, to go, to run -
“And where do you think you’ll run to?”
Mohinder froze. He took Matt and Peter, he took Hiro, he can do everything they can do, he can -
“Don’t be so melodramatic.” Sylar leaned back in the seat. “I wouldn’t need to chase you down and bring you back. What do you think will happen if you go to the public and tell them who’s giving the orders around here? Do you really believe you’ll be hailed as a hero for exposing the truth? How long do you think it will be before someone asks how you could have worked with Sylar for so many months, all those days, all those nights, and never figured it out? Do you really think anyone will believe you didn’t know? No. The average man will see you as a liar, trying to cover yourself as your privileged world comes crashing down. And all those special people out there? To them, you’ll be the man who sparked the idea of their extinction. I don’t think you want to face that, Mohinder. Best for you if you just stay quiet, and help me keep this plan on course.”
“And that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?” Mohinder asked. “Getting rid of the competition. You weren’t even trying to use me to find more victims - you just wanted to manipulate us into getting rid of anyone who might rival you.”
“No. This was about revenge. This was about the Petrellis making me into a monster, letting me take the blame for what their precious little Peter did.”
Mohinder’s skeptical retort died away when he saw the anger in Sylar’s expression. It was too raw, too believable.
“Oh, yes. The explosion was Peter’s work, sold to the world as my dastardly deed. Do you honestly think the real Nathan told you fewer lies than I did?” He leaned forward. “You know what the only good thing about being Nathan Petrelli was? The occasional phone calls from Peter. The anger in his voice. The pain. The guilt. Realizing that his conscience won’t ever let him forget that he’s really the one who killed half the population of New York City. I’ve got nothing on Peter: he’s the one you should have asked for tips about efficient mass murder.”
Sylar relaxed back against the seat again. “I originally had other ideas. But when I inspected Nathan’s office after I killed him, I realized what a beautiful opportunity I’d overlooked. Nathan didn’t have any difficulty considering your final solution. In fact, on the days he wasn’t meeting with you, he was talking with other advisors about making sure any future detention centers could handle it. He set the plan in motion; I just had to keep it going.
“I thought about disappearing after I broke the President’s cover. After all, I’ve got the grand prize of abilities now.” For emphasis, he ran fingers over the drying blood on his shirt. “I’ve got all the time in the world to decide what I want to do next. But now that we’ve gone to all that trouble to set things up, and I’ve even announced the cure to the public...well, it hardly seems right to throw so many years of hard work away, does it? And it was all inspired by you, Mohinder. Don’t ever forget that.”
Mohinder could feel the blood pounding in his temples. Before he could stop himself, he thought, There has to be a way to stop this, you bastard. If Hiro can’t find one, then I’ll have to.
“You never know when to give up and stop fighting, do you?” Sylar asked. “That’s what I love about you.”
“You never want to believe that I’ll defy you, do you?” Mohinder said furiously. “That’s what I love about dealing with you.”
Sylar looked at him for a long time before smiling and turning to face forward. “So how about it, then? One more battle of wits, for old times' sake? And if you manage to win, you get to live.”
“And if I lose, I die. We’ve been through this territory before, haven’t we?”
Sylar’s chuckle was low and deep and frightened him far more than he would have thought possible. “Oh, no, Mohinder. If you lose, you still get to live. But I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much.”
Mohinder stared out the window and tried not to think.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2800
Characters: Mohinder, Sylar
Warnings: Violence, off-screen character deaths
Spoilers: Through 1.20, "Five Years Gone"
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the
mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Wounded. It kind of took on a life of its own, but the prompt is still in there. Sort of.
Summary: Five years in the future, after Mohinder helps Hiro escape back to the past, he still has to deal with the fallout of Sylar and Peter's fight, and of his own actions.
Mohinder sat on the floor with his head in his hands, ears ringing. Despite the silence in the hallway outside, he didn’t have the strength to look out.
From the other side of the door, he heard a faint call of “Suresh! Are you in there?”
He relaxed for just a moment, before his conscience pricked him. As he raised his head, he caught sight of the body on the floor not far away, and felt a different pang. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Yes.”
The door creaked open on what was left of its hinges, and a moment later, a hand touched his shoulder. “What happened?”
“Your brother was here,” Mohinder said, eyes still closed. “And then...” He trailed off as he tried to gather his thoughts. Something didn’t add up, but he was still too stunned to examine the equation to find out what it was.
Mohinder listened to Nathan’s soft footsteps head around the room and stop. He must have caught sight of the other body. Mohinder waited for the questions and recriminations.
“Where’s the other Nakamura?”
“Back in the past.” Mohinder finally opened his eyes to meet that inscrutable stare. “I had to let him do it, Nathan. The worst thing that can happen is that he can’t change anything. But if there’s any chance at all that he can stop this, we’ve got to take it. Think of all the lives that have been lost or destroyed. We can’t just give up - we have to try everything, for them.”
Nathan’s eyes dropped to the older Hiro’s body for several seconds before coming back to Mohinder. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this. There’s a crisis team on the way, and the situation needs to be brought under control.”
Mohinder frowned. “On the way? Then how did you get here - weren’t you at the dedication?”
“Desperate situations require desperate measures. When I hear that Peter’s thrown his lot in with a terrorist, I do whatever is necessary to get here to intervene.”
“So...you flew.”
“Yes. My secret’s out. There’s no time for regret right now, for either of us - we need to move on to damage control.” He strode forward and held out a hand to help Mohinder up.
“ ‘Damage control’. What does that involve?” Mohinder asked.
“The response team I called for should be here any minute. Head down to the lobby and meet them - give them an overview of the situation before bringing them back up here.” Nathan glanced back at Hiro’s body and then out into hallway. “I’d like...I’d like a few minutes alone with my brother. To say goodbye.”
Mohinder squeezed his shoulder and nodded.
But as he gingerly picked his way down the scorched hallway and paused next to the dark-haired body at the far end of it, he wondered: if Peter was capable of doing all this damage, who had been able to do that to him?
* * * * * * *
“The response is about what we initially projected. For every person who now thinks you’re a monster, there’s another one who thinks you’re an even bigger hero than before, for nobly working to control those with abilities despite being one of them. Polls and an overview of commentary seem to indicate that most people are still wavering in the middle, though. They’re extremely uncomfortable with the idea that you can fly, but you’ve been such a symbol of strength and unity over the past five years that deep down, they’re looking for a justification to keep believing in you. Of course, the fact that you haven’t tried to hide your brother’s involvement in Nakamura’s activities is also in your favor -”
Mohinder interrupted from his corner, “What’s this about an incident at the detention center in Lincoln?”
Nathan and his PR chief looked up. Mohinder tapped the file that lay open across his knees. “There’s a casualty report in here, but no details.”
“I was coming to that next, Dr. Suresh - in fact, that’s why I asked that you be present at this meeting,” the chief said. “Those people are desperate. They fear what their neighbors may do to them. They’re tired of being locked up, and tired of being considered dangerous for reasons completely out of their control. Tensions rose inside the building, there was a confrontation with the guards that escalated...there was some sort of explosion. We’re not sure what caused it, only that it wasn’t toxic or radioactive. But seventeen people died - four specials, five guards, eight civilian workers in the building next door. There’s no way to keep it quiet, and it’s not the only location where frustrations are rising to the danger level.”
He cleared his throat. “These people have heard about the president’s speech and what he had to offer, and they’re ready to give up these abilities they didn’t even ask for, so that they can get on with their lives. They want your cure, Dr. Suresh.”
“Then give it to them,” Nathan said in a dangerous voice.
Mohinder’s mouth opened in horror, but Nathan cut him off before he could say anything: “They’ve said themselves that they don’t want these abilities - they’d rather go back to being normal. Give them the cure. They deserve it.” He stood decisively. “Keep on with the plan we’ve put in place. Unfortunately, I’ve got another appointment right now that can’t be missed. Dr. Suresh, would you come with me?”
Alone in the quiet of the hallway, he murmured, “There’s no other option, Mohinder.”
“It’s murder. Pure and simple.”
“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”
Mohinder stopped, breathless. Nathan put a hand on his shoulder, in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting. “My point is that you did what you thought you had to do, to the Haitian. It was the only viable choice you thought you had. That’s the choice I’m making now. If I tell people that we were wrong, that there isn’t a cure, if I dash the hope that was raised in them...they’ll break. Imagine if riots like this happened across the country. People will resort to vigilantism out of irrational fear for their families’ lives. I’m sacrificing a few to try to preserve order for the many.”
Mohinder shook his head helplessly. But he still kept walking numbly at Nathan’s side, out the door and across the lawn to the waiting limo.
As an aide pulled its door open, there was a distant call of “Petrelli!” behind them, and both men turned. A slim figure stepped out from behind the building and raised its arms. Before Mohinder could react, he heard the crack of a gunshot, followed by another, and Nathan was sagging back against the limo, red spreading unbelievably rapidly across his chest.
Mohinder froze for an instant, and then he and the aide were frantically working in unison to pull Nathan into the back seat. He heard the aide shouting for the driver to go, and quickly looked over his shoulder. He caught sight of the shooter’s back as security struggled with her - a woman, long blonde hair, attacking in broad daylight, what was she thinking to do something this hopeless and suicidal, was it some personal vendetta - and then the car was speeding off. He knelt over Nathan and fumbled at his shirt and finally, desperate to get to the wound to try to staunch the blood flow, he jerked at the fabric, popping one button off as he pulled it open.
There was no bullet hole.
He looked at the blood soaked into Nathan’s shirt. He turned over his hands and looked at it staining the sworls of his fingertips. In disbelief, he swiped his hand down Nathan’s chest, wiping the blood away to search his skin more closely.
No bullet hole. He raised shocked eyes to Nathan’s face.
“How unfortunate.” Nathan sighed. “Things were going so well four days ago, and now I’m suddenly forced to move on to Plan C.”
“Who are you?” Mohinder whispered.
“Oh, Mohinder. You disappoint me, asking the obvious question, especially when there’s an obvious answer. I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t figure it out a long time ago.” Nathan shook his head, and then the air itself seemed to waver. Mohinder blinked, and suddenly it wasn’t Nathan any more. It was, it was -
He realized that he was still straddling the other man’s legs. He climbed backwards and pushed himself as far into the corner of the seat as he could without actually cringing away.
Sylar laughed and pulled himself up into a seated position. “Why, Mohinder, you don’t seem happy to see me! And things were just starting to get interesting.” He reached inside his opened shirt and fished around until he produced a bullet. He shook his head at it. “That was rather unpleasant. Still, it’s better than the alternative, I suppose.” He turned his attention back to Mohinder, whose eyes were huge with shock. “Now, Dr. Suresh, we have to decide what to do about you.”
The car jolted slightly as it hit a pothole, and the movement jerked Mohinder back from blind panic. He glanced at the driver on the other side of the glass, and Sylar laughed. “I don’t think he needs to be disturbed by our discussion. No, as far as he can tell, you’re realizing that I’ve had a very narrow escape, with only a minor wound. And that’s what the staff at the hospital will think, too. This couldn’t have been better timing, actually - an assassination attempt might be just what I need to line the country up behind me again.”
Mohinder tried to force his mind down an orderly path: what to do, what to say, how to get away, how to warn people-
“Mohinder, Mohinder...I know what you’re thinking,” Sylar interrupted. “Parkman keeps serving me well, even after death. I would have taken his ability a long time ago, but he was a useful tool in other ways.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you? Another murder to add to your list.”
Sylar laughed. “I hate to put a dent in your self-righteous anger, but no. Pete’s got lousy aim when he’s rattled, did you know that? Luckily, he hit Parkman in the chest rather than higher up. At least poor Matt had the satisfaction of delivering Hiro to me before he died. And then you wrapped up the Haitian for me! Despite the snags I ran into, I can’t help thinking it was one of the best days of my life: four abilities for the price of one.”
“The younger Hiro made it out in time,” Mohinder said fiercely. “He knows what he needs to do in the past, to stop you. To stop all this from ever happening.”
Sylar smiled almost sadly. “He can’t stop this. He can’t stop you, Mohinder. He can’t stop you from becoming what you’re meant to be.” He laid a hand gently just above Mohinder’s heart. “You never told me...how did it feel, when you killed the Haitian?”
“It felt like something I had to do, for the good of the world.”
“And what about the rush of adrenaline? The instant just after you started when you feared that it would go wrong, a flash like lightning in your chest? The exhilaration when you realized things were playing out just as you’d imagined? The satisfaction of knowing you were going to get exactly what you wanted? You can tell yourself whatever you want to justify it, but the fact remains that you felt it, didn’t you?”
Under the force of Sylar’s stare, he couldn’t come up with a response.
“When I pulled that report from the files and realized you’d suggested extinction the very first time you talked to Nathan, even if it was an off-the-cuff remark...it was still your idea, Mohinder. No one pushed you to come up with it. Oh, I would have, but you came to it all on your own, long before we started working together. That’s when I knew that everything would be all right, when I got past the fear and felt the exhilaration. And now...now it’s finally time for the satisfaction. I’ve waited a long time for this, Mohinder.”
Mohinder felt himself edging towards panic again. He had an overwhelming need to get out, to warn the world, to go, to run -
“And where do you think you’ll run to?”
Mohinder froze. He took Matt and Peter, he took Hiro, he can do everything they can do, he can -
“Don’t be so melodramatic.” Sylar leaned back in the seat. “I wouldn’t need to chase you down and bring you back. What do you think will happen if you go to the public and tell them who’s giving the orders around here? Do you really believe you’ll be hailed as a hero for exposing the truth? How long do you think it will be before someone asks how you could have worked with Sylar for so many months, all those days, all those nights, and never figured it out? Do you really think anyone will believe you didn’t know? No. The average man will see you as a liar, trying to cover yourself as your privileged world comes crashing down. And all those special people out there? To them, you’ll be the man who sparked the idea of their extinction. I don’t think you want to face that, Mohinder. Best for you if you just stay quiet, and help me keep this plan on course.”
“And that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?” Mohinder asked. “Getting rid of the competition. You weren’t even trying to use me to find more victims - you just wanted to manipulate us into getting rid of anyone who might rival you.”
“No. This was about revenge. This was about the Petrellis making me into a monster, letting me take the blame for what their precious little Peter did.”
Mohinder’s skeptical retort died away when he saw the anger in Sylar’s expression. It was too raw, too believable.
“Oh, yes. The explosion was Peter’s work, sold to the world as my dastardly deed. Do you honestly think the real Nathan told you fewer lies than I did?” He leaned forward. “You know what the only good thing about being Nathan Petrelli was? The occasional phone calls from Peter. The anger in his voice. The pain. The guilt. Realizing that his conscience won’t ever let him forget that he’s really the one who killed half the population of New York City. I’ve got nothing on Peter: he’s the one you should have asked for tips about efficient mass murder.”
Sylar relaxed back against the seat again. “I originally had other ideas. But when I inspected Nathan’s office after I killed him, I realized what a beautiful opportunity I’d overlooked. Nathan didn’t have any difficulty considering your final solution. In fact, on the days he wasn’t meeting with you, he was talking with other advisors about making sure any future detention centers could handle it. He set the plan in motion; I just had to keep it going.
“I thought about disappearing after I broke the President’s cover. After all, I’ve got the grand prize of abilities now.” For emphasis, he ran fingers over the drying blood on his shirt. “I’ve got all the time in the world to decide what I want to do next. But now that we’ve gone to all that trouble to set things up, and I’ve even announced the cure to the public...well, it hardly seems right to throw so many years of hard work away, does it? And it was all inspired by you, Mohinder. Don’t ever forget that.”
Mohinder could feel the blood pounding in his temples. Before he could stop himself, he thought, There has to be a way to stop this, you bastard. If Hiro can’t find one, then I’ll have to.
“You never know when to give up and stop fighting, do you?” Sylar asked. “That’s what I love about you.”
“You never want to believe that I’ll defy you, do you?” Mohinder said furiously. “That’s what I love about dealing with you.”
Sylar looked at him for a long time before smiling and turning to face forward. “So how about it, then? One more battle of wits, for old times' sake? And if you manage to win, you get to live.”
“And if I lose, I die. We’ve been through this territory before, haven’t we?”
Sylar’s chuckle was low and deep and frightened him far more than he would have thought possible. “Oh, no, Mohinder. If you lose, you still get to live. But I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much.”
Mohinder stared out the window and tried not to think.