Who: Peter Petrelli and an unidentified body What: A hauntingly familiar discovery Where: Street a few miles from the Hyperion When: last night Rating: PG Status: narrative ; complete
Patrols were a nightly routine. It served Peter well. Given how little he needed sleep, it was a good way to keep himself active and productive. During the days, it was a hectic mass of dealing with the usual issues while making time to spend with each member of his family, to talk with Cordelia, and to check in on Faith. Research and paperwork went with the daytime. Evenings were spent where he was needed, or, his favorite, curled up with Sarah. But when the night fell, and his wife-to-be had drifted off to sleep, it was out to the streets for Peter.
He'd learned much of the city by these patrols. Each night, he had taken a different route, until now he knew the areas surrounding the Hyperion well enough to navigate them blindly. It hadn't taken long to figure out the different hangouts, where the nests were, where the homeless gathered. So when he heard the low growls of dogs coming from an alley that was normally void of life, he paused.
The growls weren't the only thing in the air. Turning to the alley, Peter caught the scent of blood and death. A flame lit in one hand as he moved into the shadows. A few dogs turned, baring thir teeth at him, but after Peter loosed a lightning bolt into the ground, all the strays fled.
Only a body remained. The clothing was torn and filthy, but the soiling had been recent, the tears from the dogs that had been feeding on it. Shoes still on the feet. Peter shifted his light to illuminate the face, and that was when he froze, staring in horror at the corpse.
The top of the man's head had been sliced off.
Sylar. The thought came, unbidden, and Peter couldn't breathe for a moment. Sylar.
It couldn't be. Gabriel was still in the Hyperion, confining himself to his room for the majority of his time. The... other Gabriel was still amnesiac, and didn't remember who he was or what he had done.
It's a hunger. A craving. How can he really control that? Doubt and fear twisted in Peter's gut. He reached out, clairvoyantly searching for Gabriel, and finding him at the Hyperion, still in his room. His link hadn't been disrupted. But how long had the body been here? Peter's eyes fell upon the blood caked on the ground, the stains on the forehead. There were no signs of swelling, and the last rain had been five days ago. Long enough for rigor mortis to dissipate, not long enough to be soaked. Sometime in the last two to four days. Where had Gabriel and Sylar been two to four days ago?
He couldn't leave the body here. Not to be fed to the local wildlife. Using telekinesis, Peter lifted the body, and levetated it and himself to the roof of the closest building. He sealed the access door to ensure that no one would accidentally stumble onto it before he could return. And he would return. The body was proof.