Small town by the name of part 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own this. More’s the pity. Joss owns one half, Tom Kring the other
Set: mid season six for BTVS. After episode 4 of season three for Heroes
Chapter One: Small town by the name of part 1
Manhattan, Level Five, Peter and Sylar
Peter stared at Sylar. This was the second time he had called him his brother. Something was wrong.
A little voice at the back of his head spoke up. 'Kill him. You will understand that way. Kill him.'
Peter backed away from Sylar. ‘I won’t become like you,’ he said. ‘I won’t.’
Then he closed his eyes and disappeared.
California, ?, Nox
He stopped running for a second and lay slumped against the abandoned car in the alleyway.
Jesse was dead. That psychopath had…killed him. Cut open his head with his finger.
That was not the way they were meant to work. They were meant to be the good, crime fighters. He was meant to be the bad guy.
Nox could feel his own fear. This was bad.
Jesse, he thought, I’ll kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing I do.
But he was going to need help.
Which was why he was trailing across California to find an old friend.
She’d been going to a small town with some stupid name. Sunningwell. Sunnyland.
Sunnydale. He’d find her there, they’d get back together and then that telekinetic asshole wouldn’t know what had hit him.
New York, Mohinder’s apartment, Mohinder
Mohinder stared at the rash that had now spread to his elbows. He cursed.
This was now part of him permanently. The stickiness on his hands. The open, itching sores on his back. The strange bursts of aggression.
He needed to find out more about what he was becoming.
So he sat there, in his apartment, late at night, searching. He checked his blood sample again. He trawled the web.
And it was there that he found something very interesting indeed. As he was searching, he found a picture of a man, covered in sores that looked similar to his, and with curling horns. Apparently it was a woodcut from a book called the Chronicles of Aurelius from the fifth century. He searched further and found that there was an English translation, from the seventeenth century, available for $50 dollars from amazon.com.
It had a search me option, so he did, searching for sores, stickiness, any of the above.
He found two hits.
One was a note made by the man who had translated it, talking about an illness he had caught. The second was also about the man’s death. It read ‘he died on Boca del Inferno of his sores’
Boca del Inferno…that was Spanish. Maya would know what it meant.
He searched on.
Dada! next chapter soon