2007-09-02: DF: The Bitter End


DFElena_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif DFSylar_icon.gif DFLachlan_icon.gif DFMolly_icon.gif

Summary: Elena and Peter go to Central Park to try and find more information on the rally disaster that he could take back with him to 2007….only to be intercepted by a certain serial killer.

Dark Future Date: September 2nd, 2009

The Bitter End

Central Park, New York City

Central Park
2100 Hours

The smell of charred bodies still lingers in the air, and while it isn't exactly safe to be lurking around at night, they didn't really have a lot of time. Every piece of information Peter gets pushes his time of departure closer, which makes the next few days rather crucial if he really was going to the past to change everything.

Blood was dried onto the concrete. The smell would never go away, not perhaps a few months. Past the yellow crime scene tape, the site had already been abandoned by Homeland Security in favor of safer pastures. The torn rally banners wave forlornly overhead at the very slight breeze. Save for that, everything was silent, and still, save for the occasional wailing of sirens in the distance. That, at least, won't be going away any time soon.

A piece of broken glass crunches under her boot, Elena's hand lifting to drag the beam of a flashlight across the expanse of rubble and debris. They've been there for an hour. The bodies have already cleared away. No sign of anything helpful yet but maybe that'll change in the next few minutes. "Walk me through that again, Peter," she says. She wasn't there, but Peter had been.

"We were all together right about… there," Peter points to the approximate area he last remembers seeing Lachlan and Cass together. "Lachlan heard something— or maybe his dogs did— and they ran away in that direction." Again, he points. There's still destruction in the directions he's pointing. There'd been many bombs set, after all. "Cass went running this way— she saw a man— it looked like he was holding a baby. She was— surprisingly fast. Able to get through the crowd fairly well." No tripping over her feet, that sort of thing.

"I tried to keep up— I was only a few behind her when… he wasn't holding a baby." She should know that part. "It was this way," he motions, leaving where they're standing to climb over some broken ground and busted sidewalk to get to the area closer to what used to be a stage, it's now rather broken and splintered.

"Cass did away with her klutziness over the years," Elena says, and despite the past tense, her expression was largely stoic. It had been a rough few hours, and while she looks exhausted, the determined set in her jaw was still there. The fact that maybe they could change everything is one of the few things that's driving her forward. She follows the finger with her eyes, the beam of light she had in her hands following it. "You know what I don't get?" she poses, falling a step near him and swinging the light around periodically to make sure they didn't miss anything. "You mentioned a ransom note - there was a specified amount. Cass chased a guy holding a bomb. Lachlan gets Abby later anyway, just lying there." She rubs her face with a fingerless-gloved palm. "Smells like a trap to me than any sincere desire to get some sort of payout. My question is why them. Logistically. Not…you know. Why, God, why. But why."

"I really don't know. It— I couldn't hear him too well, but the man said something to Cass before he blew himself up," Peter's shaking his head, but he looks rather quiet overall. It has been a pretty tough week, and his time staying here is definitely drawing to a close. There's a few more things he wants to do, but… "I don't know why. They might have even intentionally split them up— maybe they just wanted to kill Cass." Wince. "But they were pretty clear on not alerting the guards or authorities, not bringing anyone except the two of them. Unless we find out who… we probably won't know why…" And he's hoping when he goes back, the who and the why won't matter anymore at all.

Much like Peter may have felt in the days previous, there's been a certain little someone following him. Making sure to keep blocks away and out of sight, the teenage blonde has been sure that she always knows where the Past Ghost has been and made sure she's been close by. Case in point, as the group is picking their way through Central Park, Molly is casually leaning against a tree without a seeming care in the world, just close enough to hear their conversation. For some reason she's not really caring much about hiding herself now. And for possibly that same reason, she's got a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

She didn't like it. It was on her face. Elena shakes her head. "Whoever it was believed in what he was doing enough to blow himself up along with the rest of the park….hopefully you're right in that it won't matter once you're able to do something about it in the past, but…I don't know. I'm uncomfortable not finding anything on this. I'm just hoping the right thread theory is right. I'm just hoping….Desiree…was right with what she said two years ag— " The Desert Eagle is out, her Ping ability is alerting her to an approaching signal that's stopped - it had an effective range of 20 feet, so once Molly manages to breach the radius, that's when she senses her presence, pointing towards the body she senses leaning against the tree. When she sees who it is….she lowers the gun. "What are you doing here?" This to Molly.

The killer soars through the New York night, the wind whipping and lashing at his face and hair as he does circles over the various buildings, rubble, and people of the city. He's looking for one thought pattern in particular, that of a young, blonde-haired girl— and there it is. Honing in on it, he changes direction in mid-air, and he knows exactly where he's headed now. Central park.

It doesn't take him long to get there, not long at all. After all, when you can fly, you're not bothered by streets and stop lights and buildings and all of that. It's a straight shot. Too easy.

The moment the park is in sight, he slows, just a bit, making sure he'll have a god landing spot. No sense in running into a tree or something of that nature. There. He comes in fast, much like Nathan does at the diner, and he nails the landing, skidding to a halt right in the middle of the rubble. "PETER PETRELLI!" he yells, voice bouncing off of the rubble and echoing around the park. A hand extends to his right, and the other to his left; out of both, two massive columsn of flame leap out, setting nearby fliers, grass, and trees on fire, the blaze roaring to life, casting an eerie glow on the immediate area. "I've killed you once already, and I'll kill you again! There's no escaping me!"

When she mentions what had been said by the Psychic of the past, her stepmom, Peter looks over, surprised. They're not too far from what's left of the stage, and there's a tree nearby too— one that she suddenly turns towards, gun draw. He looks up, recognizing the girl. That's one meeting he's avoided sharing with… pretty much anyone. Except the young woman beside him. "Molly?" he can't help but ask, surprised to see her, but he doesn't get to stay surprised very long when… someone soars in using his brother's ability, skidding to a hault and screaming his name. If he'd been surprised to see her, part of him is terrified to see him. Another part of him… feels very different.

"Not going to leave even if I tell you to, are you." he says. Not a question, far more of a statement. He wishes she would, but he knows she won't. Fire— he can't control fire. But maybe he has a few things he can do the other man can't— probably not, though. Hand raising, crackled lighting dances between his fingers and flings out in his direction.

There's no need for Molly to verbally answer Elena or Peter. Her answer comes from above in the form of Sylar lighting things on fire and grass. In the eerie and flickering glow of the newly lit fires, the girl gives the two a grin and steps forward, closer. If she steps over flaming grass, that's no big deal. Nothing is going to get in the way of her target. "I told you," she laughs at Peter, ignoring Elena for the time being, even if she does have a gun. The little girl is armed herself, even if she's not showing so at the moment.

Death and Doom fly down from the heavens like a giant crow, skidding and landing in the middle of debris and fire bursting from his palms. Elena's never laid eyes on Sylar in the flesh - she was very lucky in that regard. But she's gaping at Sylar's appearance, and then at Molly's laughter. I told you. I told you? She whirls around to stare at Peter. "Told you what?" she demands. Oh christ. This was bad. And this is when Peter fires an electric bolt of lightning towards Sylar. And at what he says… "Are you INSANE?! I'm not leaving. We are leaving. You can't die here!" Oh god. Oh god. Where the hell was Hiro? Now would be a good time to go back to the Past.

First thing's first though. Take out the radar. She doesn't know how many flavors Sylar is packing but if they're leaving, she's not going to risk the psycho teenager being conscious for it.

She doesn't shoot, but she raises her hand, and fires a blinding shot of blistering, knock-out pain towards Molly, beaming it right into her head.

"Why leave and miss out on all the fun?" the killer says, smirking as he extends a hand towards the electricity, creating the path of least resistance: right into his palm. He holds it out, his hand crackling from the voltage as it burns and disfigures the skin, a horrible stench given off by the melting flesh. Once the electricity has dissipated, Sylar flexes his hand, the skin immediately patching over and healing. Regeneration is a beautiful thing. "Good as new," Sylar says, looking at his hand and then back towards Peter, a smile extending across his lips. The light from the fire flickers and dances across his face, the shadows causing him to look eerie and menacing. "You never did learn."

His hand extends again, out to his right. In the direction he points, a piece of rubble, about the size of a small motorcycle, slowly lifts up into the air. It begins to rotate, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed, and he smirks at Peter again. "I've killed you, /and/ your brother. I'll kill you again. I'll kill your friends. Your family. Every last one of them… and I'll control this pathetic thing they call a 'city'… and I'll dedicate it to your sorry, weak existence!" There's a small flick of the wrist, and the rubble flies forward, quickly, fast, without warning— straight towards Peter.

Honestly, it wouldn't matter if Molly was knocked out for their departure. Now that she's seen Elena, she can find the Latina no matter where she goes. Anywhere in the city, in the world with just a thought. Quite an amazing power to have. As she approaches, the girl glances over at Elena just in time to see her raise her hand in an attempt to knock her out, blind her. Working quickly, the young girl kicks upward at the ground, flinging burning grass and burning hot rocks right in Elena's direction before she shrieks in pain and drops to the ground, holding her head.

Regeneration. Well. Shit. Peter's well aware of the ability— he knows where he got it. He knows of at least one place that this man could have gotten it. He killed Nathan. He's threatening his friends and his family— what's left of them. His friends. One in particular is right here— and there's a little girl that can find her, no matter where she is. No matter what. A little girl who knows her face— and who works with this man. They can't run. And not just because of the rubble flying at them. He's surprised by the rubble, because he's looking towards Molly, and her attack on Elena. A good sized chunk hits him in the chest, knocking him back a few feet, to one knee. Only then does he deflect the others, they fly around him, crashing into the ground. His choices are limited. They always were. But— he decides to risk getting closer to him. By flying right at him. There's a few ideas— but right now it's mostly just… flying by the seat of his pants.

Burning grass sears right into the black fabric on her thigh, melting the nylon and synthetic fibers there, and a couple of burning rocks bounce up her arm and one glances off the side of her neck. Skin is seared, second-degree burns peeling back the first few layers of skin and exposing angry, wet red underneath. Elena staggers backwards - but the pain is dealt with quickly, numbing and disappearing and she manages to retain a hold on what she's doing…and in fact makes it worse by transferring the burning sensation she had felt early right into what she was already doing to Molly. "I ought to kill you, you little shit," she hisses dangerously from where she is. There was too much at stake. The kid was a liability to everyone.

This is when she's forced to let go of what she's doing. She was standing near Peter, so the TK'd chunk of debris catches her attention. She hurls herself to one side, just as the thing knocks Peter back and away from her. "Peter! Peter, no!" Panic wells up in her throat. Oh god. He can't die here. He can't die here! She abandons neutralizing Molly - it'll probably prove to be her undoing later, but she had to help him. Her eyes bleed gold, and as Peter propels himself forward towards Sylar, she uses her own abilities to boost his own, amplifying whatever Peter's got as much as she can. That would mean leaving her in the open for Molly, but she didn't care. He can't die here!

Rubble hitting home, Sylar lets out another one of those smirks he seems to be so fond of— and he's fond of them indeed. He lowers his head, tucking his chin back, and he tilts his head to the side, hands held out at his side. "Is it too much for Peter Petrelli?" he says, taunting the other man as more rubble rises on either side of him, controlled by both of his hands. "I don't know exactly how you're here— time travel, maybe, or perhaps replication— after all, I'm rather fond of that ability myself. Certainly fooled that wife of yours, didn't it?"

That's about the time Peter is flying towards him, and the rubble on either side of Sylar drops, so he can bring his hands out in front of him. Invisible to the naked eye, he creates a cushion of sorts in between the other man and himself using telekinesis, which, when Peter slams into it, causes Sylar to go skidding back a few feet, heels digging into the ground.

It takes a little while for Molly to regain her breath and her senses after such pain. But, she's always been resilient and a fast healer. Pulling herself up, she doesn't groan, she doesn't whine, instead she just grimaces at the woman's yelling and panicking. God, how annoying. Reaching around behind her, she pulls out the gun and approaches from behind the brunette. Does she aim and shoot her? Does she attempt to kill her? No no, Molly's not one to get her hands dirty that way. Instead, once she quickly and silently closes the distance between them and uses the fact that the woman's back is turned. As soon as she's close enough, she levels the butt of the gun to Elena's head and then sweeps it with all her strength, intending to knock the girl out. After all, a brain blown out by a gunshot does Sylar little good. Once he's done with Peter, he'll have more powers to play with. There's a grin as she does so. "Yeah, that's what everyone says."

Ow. That didn't feel too great. Peter runs into the bubble and gets knocked out of flight, hitting the rubble harder than he'd intended. Probably should have a broken arm, at least, but it's already healing. The additional power flowing into him feels… rather good, really. Helps speed things along, he doesn't even need to pop his arm back into place. Replication. Fooled his wife. She's dead too. "Doesn't matter— you're not hurting the— anyone else." The people he loves, the ones he cares about. Or even that hobo laying in the street. But mostly the people he loves and cares about. Like the young woman here with him. There's only so much he has to choose from. And the main idea right now… is to get closer. The cushion that stopped him may not work the other way around.

Lifting his hand, he reaches out in an attempt to mentally grab the other man by his upper body, around the stomach, and he pulls his hand back, attempting to draw the man closer, as close as he can. Get over here? Yeah, that's the idea. He's so focused on what's in front of him, he doesn't notice what's happening to Elena. Of course, if a bullet went off, he'd probably notice.

If the pulling work, he may find a fist flying at the murderer's face a moment later. A fist that's enhanced in strength, even more than in the Plaza two and a half years ago. He's had time to grow. And there might be more to it than that, too.

Boost was active in her system and Peter's. Elena's perception is elevated, strength is upped a few levels, adrenaline pouring into her bloodstream like fire. Her eyes slide to the side when she detects footsteps approach, and when Molly moves to attack, her leg snaps out to jacknife it towards the teenager's face, heel jutting out in an attempt to crack it right upside Molly's jaw, just like the way Jack taught her. All she can use right now is Boost - she can't let go of it, she had Peter to consider, but that didn't mean it didn't have some advantages - like an extra oomph to speed and strength.

Peter was right in his theory. The cushion only really works one way, as Sylar wasn't focused on preventing /himself/ from going through it. So, Peter's Scorpion-ish move works, and Sylar is suddenly and quite forcefully pulled forward— right into Peter's fist. The move, combined with the fist to the face, causes Sylar to pretty much flip head over heels,a nd he lands on his stomach, face burying into the dirt. He coughs, the bruise (and broken nose) on his face already beginning to heal, and he leaps to his feet, whipping around to face Peter. There's a quick brush of the hand to his face, wiping away the blood from his broken nose, and he glares at the youngest Petrelli brother, eyes full of hate and malice.

All his attention is focused on Peter, so Elena and Molly go unnoticed. Molly is on her own for now. "It's time to end you," the killer says. There's a flash, and the noise of crackling electricity fills the immediate area, and Sylar whips his hand forward, directly at Peter. Out of it comes a massive jolt of lightning (albeit not as big as a regular bolt of lightning), flying directing towards Peter, right for his chest.

It's alright, Molly doesn't have to be protected much. She's been in her fair share of scrapes and fights and gunfights just by being a part of the Syndicate. And because she likes to get herself into trouble. Though Elena may be super fast, Molly's ability to find people, essentially to see them helps her out when she's not really looking out where she's going. Weaving out of the way, the leg catches her in the shoulder and she gets tossed back a bit. There's a grunt of pain, but then she laughs. Oh, it's a game! If she's concentrating that hard in helping Peter, well, that's okay. That means she's more fun to mess with. "Tsk tsk. You're cheating." Picking up a good sized rock, she flings it at Elena, trying to distract her and otherwise occupy her. She'll shoot her if she proves to be too annoying. But ending a fight before it begun just isn't fun.

It's almost scary. Peter'd faced Elle a couple times when she was upset at him, and the ball of lightning she tossed at him never reached that size. There's only so much that he can do— so he dodges the best way he possibly can. He jumps. Straight up. Taking off into the sky. Not to run away, just to get out of the way fast. He's already angling his flight to spin and try and get on the ground near him. It'd be a lot easier to do if his legs weren't on fire. The sudden burst of air helped put that out, but his jeans are burned, melted against skin in a few places, and— he actually doesn't LAND so much as FALL. But, he falls close to Sylar, which was the point. He'd planned to be standing, though, and he's not. He's laying on his back. Easy pickings, right? Maybe…

Except suddenly he has something in his hand that wasn't there before, and the dark object is flying towards the other man, propelled with TK. It's aiming for the man's abdomen. And should it reach him? It will explode. Thank you Jack for your wonderful explody things back at the base— and for letting him see where they were kept.

The rock? Bounces off her burn. It hurts, it bleeds, the jagged surface breaks open skin. But Elena's done playing around. She knows the kid is trying to distract her with what she's doing. She can't have that. The Desert Eagle is out, and it's more of a hand cannon than a pistol, and she turns her gun-hand towards where Molly lands, and pulls the trigger repeatedly. She doesn't need Peter to be line of sight to keep her powers active, so she can actually turn her eyes to Molly as she does this and take advantage of her Boosted vision. Cheater? Oh yes. Elena cheats. Elena cheats like a bastard. She's been called on it many, many times since the damned thing started. "How astute of you," comes the low growl.

Unfortunately for Elena, Molly's been in more than a couple of gun fights. And while she's pretending like she's playing, she's really quite active and alert. Ducking and rolling, then zig zagging to make sure that the she's a hard target - even with boosted vision - she doesn't stop running around and she doesn't give the Latina an easy target. However, unfortunately for Molly, she's not quite as agile as she would like to think. A bullet tears through her shoulder and she gives a shriek of pain, the gun she still had in hand falling out of numbed fingers. Tumbling to the ground, she bears her teeth in a savage snarl. Much like an animal, she goes tearing off into the cover of the trees again. Whether she went off to get patched up or to perch in farther off tree to watch the outcome of the battle, that's up to anyone's guess.

The serial killer steps forward, grinning down at Peter, raising a hand out in front of him. "I have more important things to tend to. So, if you don't mind…" He takes another step, a ball of flame gathering in his hand, and he's just about to throw it directly into Peter's face when— a grenade. The fire dissipating immediately, Sylar /just/ barely has time to get a telekinetic cushion int he way of the grenade, the 'impact' causing the grenade to explode, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. Sylar gets his fair share of it, pieces tearing into his face, chest, stomach, and legs, causing horrible red gashes all over. He staggers backward, somehow managing to stay on two feet, fighting through the temporary pain, as the regeneration begins to take effect and heal the wounds.

Yeah— Peter didn't think that one through very well. Not only does the grenade go off a little too close to him, causing him to catch shrapnel of his own, making him fall back flat against the ground, but it didn't defeat him, either. A moment later, he registers another sound he heard— gunfire. Instead of keeping his eyes on the serial killer, he pushes himself back up enough to look over in Elena's direction— please don't be hurt. It wasn't her that was shot, as he notices the blonde girl scurrying away quickly. Getting to his feet isn't easy anymore— the regeneration is having a difficult time keeping up. His legs were on fire a moment ago— now he's got pieces of metal getting pushed out of his body, and skin healing over. "You're the one— who came after me," he reminds the man who just recently murdered his brother. He's running out of ideas— Which is kinda obvious when he switches back to electricity again. One would think he'd have learned that's not going to work— especially when the other man is capable of larger bolt.

No, she's not hurt - at least not much. She's got burns, but nothing she can't walk off rather literally. With the little bitch snarling and scampering away, Elena lowers her Desert Eagle, her eyes still narrowed. She was going to kick that kid's head off the next time she even comes near her. And then, the explosion, sending a short shockwave across the ruins of Central Park. It knocks her backwards, sprawling on her side, though she keeps a good grip on her arm. When she looks up, however, to find Peter looking back at her, she shakes her head… "Eyes forward!" she cries, and mends the broken chain of her concentration. She uses her boosting abilities again, and fires it towards Peter just as he gets ready to send a surge of electricity towards Sylar.

Just like before, Sylar extends a hand out in front of him (just in time, however) to intercept the electricity. He's still hunched over, his own wounds still healing from the shrapnel, but he does manage to absorb most of the electrical surge from Peter into his hand. A few stray sparks leap away from his hand, burning the killer's face, but they almost immediately heal over. Regeneration certainly is helpful this time around. Once the electricity has dissipated, Sylar clenches his fist, standing up straight, all of the wounds nearly healed at this point. "I wasn't lying when I said I would kill them all— your family, friends… in fact… I think I'll start with her, right there," he says, eyes flicking in Elena's direction. The corner of his lips tugs upward in a smirk, as he shoots a hand upward, pointed directly in Elena's direction— there's a spark, a flicker of blue, and then lightning erupts from his hand, heading straight for the woman.

Right— eyes forward. Peter can hear her, but as he keeps his eyes on the serial killer, his attention is brought right away again when he goes and targets her instead. In a perfect world, he'd be able to get up in time to step in front of the blast and keep it from hitting her— but he can't. No world is perfect, especially not this one. Just— please— survive a few seconds. The other man is a lot closer than she is. Pushing himself back to his feet, he carelessly stumble-runs the few feet that he needs to and tries to shove his shoulder into the other man, hoping that will cut off the lightning before it does too much more damage. But— if she's no longer boosting him, the strength behind his shove is less— his vision will disorient— and most importantly, he's just going to be tired. She'd made him stronger— without that, he's no where near good enough to fight him off.

The choice would be difficult to many, even as Elena moves to get up from where she's fallen, recovering even as the electric-blue arc sails towards her. To drop what she's doing for Peter to protect herself by shutting down all her pain receptors, or keep up what she's doing so Peter could survive the more experienced serial killer's onslaught. But to her, the choice is second nature - electricity sears through her, blood boiling and heating up. Electrocution was strange in that it rarely ever left outside marks, it did most of its damage internally. Fitting, considering she operates the same way. She would scream, if her own blood wasn't choking her. Staggering backwards, she feels her back slam into the side of the stage, and she slides down, and down, her rear-end hitting dirt before her body tips sideways to land on the ground. Her vision swims, darkening on the edges. The pain was indescribable. The blood that she could see was black. The hourglass had started to run at 20 minutes. She knew that much and more about the human body.

But he can't die here. She could make her own death comfortable, but she doesn't, so she relinks, fighting unconsciousness. Her eyes, while still gold, are heavy lidded, watching the fight sideways. Her powers are still active, unfortunately she can't use them on herself.

The killer advances on Elena, his hand still held out in front of him, electricity surging and sparking from his palm, driving itself into the poor woman. He's just about to make the final jolt, give her the finishing blow, when he's suddenly knocked backwards by Peter's shoulder. He stumbles, but manages to regain his balance, remaining upright. "You—" he begins, but cuts himself off, deciding there's no point in delaying the inevitable. He spreads his fingers, wide, and fire erupts from the palm of his hand, twisting up into the air, splitting into two seperate streams, curling around itself before heading directly for Peter, bringing his other hand up and aiming it at Elena, a stream of fire erupting from that hand as well, headed right for her.

When he falls back, Peter doesn't get back up very quickly. There's not a lot of time— part of him knows this. He'd been fried nearly to death by Elle at least once that he can remember— and… she's still using her ability on him. He can feel it. Damn woman— she's helping him instead of herself. Pushing himself to sit back up, he has enough time to see the ball of fire before it hits him— he doesn't even try to stop it, because he's focusing on the other ball of fire. If he can stop that one, it will be enough. Much as he saw the other man use his ability to block his flight, he's using it to try and stop the fire heading towards her— while he burns. Even though that will probably work out— it may not last very long. The fire isn't helping.

Oh god. She was dead. Now she's really going to die. There's absolutely no way she'll be able to move. Keeping still was the only way she has left for prolonging the last remaining minutes of her life, and Elena has to hold on - either for Peter to keep going, or to get away. She hopes he'll get away, because he made her a damned promise and she'll call her ghost back to this world to haunt him FOREVER if he doesn't keep it. But that seems all for naught now, not with fiery destruction heading for her. She could feel the heat blasting from where she is. Her eyes close, resigned to trading one hell for another…

…except she doesn't get fried.

Her eyes flicker open again, seeing the gout of flame bent in some odd angle, streaming -around- her instead of hitting her in the face full-bore. She's too foggy-headed to realize what's happening, except she's still breathing, albeit it's somewhat labored, and something was keeping her from getting crispy.

Much like Molly, there's been another person tailing Elena and Peter since they left the tower. This person is much bigger than Molly, though, and decidedly more male. Like Molly, however, he's armed — doubly armed — which would be quite evident when there are two loud pistol reports from behind Sylar. The aim is sure and steady: right for the back of the serial killer's head.

The fire heading towards Elena is blocked— Peter was quick enough, copying his earlier move. It doesn't matter. Peter seems to be down for the count. It won't take much more to finish him off, and once he's done with the youngest Petrelli, he'll move on to his little girlfriend.

Turning towards Peter, he raises another hand, fully intent on burning the man to ashes. There will be no regenerating from that. "Peter, Peter, Peter…" the killer says, stepping forward, a spark bouncing around his palm, "I told you— you never did learn. It's so simple. I don't know why you never understood… I can't be beaten. It's my evolutionary imperative. To kill them all. To take every single one of them…"

Sylar will eat his own words. The pistols shots ring out across the park, falling on Sylar's ears— but there isn't enough time. Both shots strike home, and when bullets enter a skull, they can sometimes do funny things: flying out the other side, a straight shot through… blow someone's head out from behind… or sometimes, angled just right, they can bounce around a person's skull. The first bullet is a straight shot, exiting out of Sylar's left eye, embedding itself somewhere in the wooden stage. The second shot… not so much. It bounces off the inside of Sylar's skull, tearing up the killer's brain, destroying any chance of regenerating from this one without outside help. Even then, perhaps they'll be smart enough to remove the killer's head.

There's no final words. No death speech. No swearing of revenge. The killer dies instantly, his last thought that of to move, but of course there's no time. Lachlan got the upper hand. The surprise. Sylar falls forward, landing roughly in front of Peter, bouncing slightly off of the ground with a final, soft thud.

Clothes burnt or melted most of the way through, Peter's skin is still trying to heal back over from the last attack. His hand drops. He's almost out of strength— almost out of energy. He can't do that again. He can't block another one. The last few moments, while Sylar gloats, all he can think of is that he failed— that he won't be able to keep his promise. There's only a flicker in his eyes of the first shot, until the bullet goes through the other man's eye and into the wooden stage. The second bullet does the job, knocking him down. The healing young man starts to sit up now, looking down at him, then up towards the man who shot him.

He's never been so relieved to see anyone ever in his life.

Her vision was darkening around the edges. A new player steps into the ring. Elena despite her fading eyes recognizes him. Tall. Big. Packed a mean shot. She watches him emerge from the darkness, just as she watches Sylar fall mid-rant from where she's bleeding internally. Her fingers twitch. Her body spasms, but she pulls whatever effort she could manage to lift a shaky finger….and point at the serial killer's corpse.


Choke. Gurgle.

That second bullet didn't exit, but Lachlan's taking no chances. The best way to make sure someone is dead is to cut off their head, and if there's anything the Scotsman hates, it's a job left unfinished. There's nothing that should ever be left to fate with Sylar. That's the mistake so many others made. As soon as the body is down, the Scotsman steps forward. There's the soft scrape of metal against sheath as he withdraws a sword from its place strapped to his back. Elena might recognize it, if she's still conscious: it's the one she bought for him in Spain two years ago. Without hesitation, he lines up the blade with Sylar's neck and with four hard, swift movements, he's hacked off the man's head. "Let's see ye come back from tha'," he grunts, kicking the head away from the rest of the corpse.

Yeah— "Good timing," is all that Peter manages, before he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles the distance over to the girl who'd been electructed. She's pointing at the downed serial killer, even attempting to laugh. "It's okay— it's fine now— Lachlan stopped him. Don't think he's coming back from that." Maybe he should take a clue from this. Guns and swords work better— the grenade had been a pretty good choice too— better if it would have hit him before getting caught with telekinesis. It'll be okay now— he's alive— she's still breathing. He can fix this if she's still breathing, right? Taking the hand that'd been pointing at him, he closes his eyes, trying to will her body to fix itself. Electricity counts— he's healed someone after they got shocked before— it should work. Right?

She wouldn't be who she was if she didn't try to laugh when she was down. Before her hand falters, Peter takes it. Even after everything he was already regenerating. But he was pale. She knew the signs, her eyes flicker a bit, a bit of light remaining there. How long did she have after that…? Seven minutes? Five? Elena feels nothing, no healing flowing into her limb - he spent himself too much. If she hadn't done what she did, she knew he would've faltered a bit ago. His stamina might have improved, but he had been fighting Sylar, who had more tenacity than the Energizer Bunny on speed. "….you're…..still…alive…" is what she murmurs, her lashes falling heavy on her eyes. "…s'…all…that…matters at this point…"

With Sylar taken care of, Lachlan turns his attention to Elena and Peter. He moves over to the fallen woman and drops to his knees next to her and Peter. "She gonna be a'righ'?" He doesn't touch her for fear of screwing something up. Peter is obviously trying to do something. When her eyelids start to fall, the Scot gives up that tactic and moves to grab the woman's chin in one hand, giving it a slight shake. "Hey. Hey! Elena, stay with us."

Damnit. Why isn't it working? Peter tries again— but he can tell that she's slipping away too fast, so he switches to a different ability, one much easier to use. The person it comes from is right there. Keep her alive. "You have to be okay." Don't mind the tears— he's having flashbacks of someone else dying in his arms— even if the situation had been very different. She's not allowed to die too. They've already lost so much. "Lachlan— medical attention. Quickly." He's not talking very straight right now, his voice is shaking, his hand is shaking. It's not making holding onto her ability easy— but he clings to it. Think. She mentioned something about doctors. "The Zoo. She sent a bunch of doctors— to the Zoo. Should still be there." Best doctors in the world, right? It should be enough. It has to be. He glances over, towards the severed head, the fallen regenerator— the world no longer has a Sylar— and he has to make sure it at least still has her. "Elena— you have to be okay." He moves to pick her up, as gently as he can.

Blood seeps from her mouth. It tasted charred. It was a miracle she could taste something. The darker edges of her vision start to bleed in. Peter's and Lachlan's faces were getting blurry, even as her chin is grabbed and he shakes her a bit to keep her conscious. Elena's got the presence in mind to smile, however, just a touch. "….I remember…tha'.." She would gesture to the sword that's still dripping crimson in Lachlan's hand, but she can't. All she can do is flick her eyes to it. "…was…awesome….Lach…lan…. you've….always been….one of the…biggest…bad…asses…I know…"

Her breath comes out like a sigh. There's a bit of a gurgle. The twitching hand reaches upwards to touch a familiar corner on Peter's mouth. Her fingertips felt cold. "….so…proud of you…" The digits slide a bit to the side, before the hand drops heavily. She couldn't hold it up anymore, and her eyes close. Her body sags heavier into the concrete, even as she's drawn up she's dead weight. She's not talking anymore, she can't do it.

"Righ'," Lachlan responds to Peter. "'ll send some rats ahead, let Daphne know." He's already doing just that. To Elena's words, he grunts wryly. "Yer damn righ' I am, an' we're gonna badass ta keep ye runnin'. Stay with us." And then she's out. "Can ye fly?" he asks of Peter.

"There's nothing… to be proud of. I didn't stop him…" Now he really is crying, and it's a little difficult to ignore. Cass died. Peter found out he was dead— found out his brother was dead— now she's dying in his arms. He still manages to pull her up against him, but when he looks towards Lachlan there's definitely tears in his eyes— "I can fly." Can't heal— can barely keep her alive— but he can fly. Will it be fast enough? Will it just end up killing her? That's something he's going to have to find out. But she's going to die if he doesn't do anything, too. Which is what he'll find out pretty fast, because he takes off into the dark sky. Most likely, he'll beat the rats there.

When Peter takes to the sky, Lachlan takes a step back to give him some room. After watching the other man disappear into the darkness, the Scot moves over to the decapitated body and picks up the severed head of Sylar. Others will want to see this. And he's going to take it to them. Off he limps, back toward Phoenix Rising Tower to inform everyone of what's happened.

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