A Telepath II

"Enough with the formalities. We've already had a chat with your pal, Peter Petrelli," Agent Hansen cut to the chase, her eyes narrowing at me. "We know you tangled with Sylar, so let's get real. No time for games."

"Look, I don't know what Peter spilled, but like I said, I'm clueless about what you're talking about." I shrugged nonchalantly, maintaining eye contact.

I would've spilled the beans about Sylar willingly if she'd asked nicely and hadn't sicced her mind-reading buddy on me.

But now, things were personal...

"Ugh," Matt Parkman groaned in frustration, lifting his head to address the Agent. "I can't tap into his thoughts. He's not thinking in English."

I couldn't help but let a smug smirk grace my lips as my surface thoughts played in my native African language.

Maybe if Parkman had unlocked the full potential of his power, then this method wouldn't have worked.

He'd have just controlled my mind in an instant and made me obey his every command. But as he was now? Never.

This was the only sure fire way of tackling a mind reader...thinking in a different language.

"Listen, kid. I don't know why you're shielding someone who was after your life," She sighed, rubbing her temples. "But catching this guy has become my life's mission, and I'm getting answers from you...even if it means taking you into custody." She spoke sternly, her tone low and serious.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, heart pounding, as Parkman exchanged a look with the no-nonsense Agent, raising an eyebrow. I lowered my head in contemplation.

Did she just admit they wanted to capture him? Was Sylar not in their custody? Sigh, just when I thought I could relax, life threw another curveball my way.

How in the world did someone who'd been stabbed and shot manage to escape the school without being seen?

...No, it didn't add up. It was impossible. He would've died before making it out of the school on his own.

Someone must've helped him. And I had a strong suspicion who. Those damn bastards rescued him, didn't they!?

I clenched my teeth in anger, my fingers curling into fists, my aching body tensing as I thought about the care they were probably providing him just to keep him alive.

...All so they could use him for their own selfish agendas. Was I the only one in this freaking world who knew how dangerous that fucker was!?

"Is everything alright, kid?" Parkman asked, stepping closer to touch my tensed arm, his voice filled with concern.

His voice snapped me back to reality, and after taking deep breaths to calm myself, I raised my head and saw the concerned and surprised looks on their faces.

...If Sylar was where I suspected, then they need to stick around for whatever plan I had. A little bit of information can be a very powerful incentive...

"His name is Gabriel Gray. A watchmaker from New York," I began slowly, gathering my thoughts, my voice cool, and their eyes widened in surprise.

Agent Hansen swiftly retrieved a small notepad and pen from her back pocket, jotting down my words as Parkman drew nearer.

"He targets people with special abilities, like your friend over here, in order to learn how to replicate what they can do." I continued, gesturing towards Parkman with my head, shifting my gaze to the attentive Agent.

Shock registered on Parkman's face, but he shook his head in disbelief and asked me, his voice tinged with confusion, "...If what you're saying is true, then why did he come after you?"

"Take a wild guess." I glanced at him and replied curtly, my tone and voice still icy.

Realization washed over his face, while Agent Hansen stroked her chin, deep in thought, and nodded in understanding.

"So, let me get this straight. You're saying that Sylar, the man I've been chasing like a ghost for almost a year, has powers? And he's targeting people like Parkman and apparently you, to acquire their abilities?"

She inquired with wonder in her voice, slightly bewildered by her own words, and I nodded, "Yes."

"...Ha, I guess that explains the supernatural nature of Sylar's killings," She muttered. "...And also the wreckage at the crime scenes. Your fight did that?" She asked, attempting to hide the shock in her voice.

I simply nodded in response, and she sighed, massaging her temples with her slender fingers, her eyes half-closed as if in pain. "I'm going to need a stiff drink after this."

Parkman, who had been scrutinizing me the whole time, hesitated before asking, "Why are you telling us all this now?"

"I would've shared this earlier if you hadn't started by invading my privacy," I stated, narrowing my eyes at him. He shifted his gaze, scratching his head in embarrassment.

I turned to the Agent, inhaling sharply. "That's all I know. If that's it, can I have the room to myself? I need to think."

The Agent frowned, about to protest, but Parkman gently shook his head as he stepped away from my side to join her.

"Let's go, Aubrey. The kid needs some rest. We'll return another time," he said to her with meaning. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, nodding in understanding as she glanced at me.

Then she moved to the table near my bed and drew a sleek business card from her pocket.

"If you recall anything or want to talk, call the number on this card," she said seriously, placing the card on the table, then turned to leave. "Thank you for your time, Xander. We'll meet again soon."

Matt Parkman followed her, but before exiting, he paused, turned his large head to glance at me with a hesitant look in his brown eyes, then walked out the door after her.

The door closed with a bang, and I exhaled deeply as a myriad of thoughts swirled in my mind, my head hung low.

Based on what I could recall from the plot, Sylar would be held in an underground facility beneath a paper factory.

A place where Claire's father 'worked.'

It also happened to be one of the organization's bases, housing many dangerous superhumans and weapons under surveillance.

I'd always wanted to visit that place because I faintly remembered that something very important was hidden there. But my fear of drawing unnecessary attention and the hostility of the Haitian had deterred me.

Now, circumstances had changed. If they were indeed holding Sylar there, nursing his wounds, I had no choice.

I needed to infiltrate that place, locate him, and this time, finish the job. No prison could hold Sylar for long; he'd escape. And when he did, he'd come straight for my home or Claire's, possibly targeting our families to spite us.

Sylar was many things, but one trait stood out—he was vindictive. He'd never forgive us for hurting him, especially me. So, I had to strike first.

"Primatech Paper Co... you'll be seeing me very soon."