Sylar's grip on the case was the last thing he remembered before hitting the wall of glass. It held the cure, his cure, and its absence was the first thing he noticed when he came to.
His eyes snapped open and he jolted up, feeling his person for the case and finding nothing. His eyes narrowed as his line of vision darted around the room; it was white and bare; it had two desks and two beds. He wasn't wearing what he had in Suresh's lab and he couldn't feel any wounds from being hit, but wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was...
"The healing blood," Sylar growled, body tense as he stood from the bed. This must have been a prison cell, because only prison cells made him feel as powerless and caged and enraged as this. He'd just gotten his hands on the cure! The cure! Had Mohinder tricked him with a drug in the needle? Had Maya knocked him out with the ability she didn't deserve? If they had, he wouldn't kill them when he saw them again since he still had use for them. But once he'd gotten all he could get, he'd make sure their deaths were slow. He looked forward to seeing what they'd say when they begged.
But he couldn't do that unless he had the cheerleader's blood, and right now he could only hope that the Company operative that appeared through the door would be ill-prepared like the last ones. After all, he'd escaped them twice. They were stupid and they underestimated his resourcefulness even without his abilities.
Sylar's eyes rested on the desk at the foot of his bed. He walked over towards it, pulled out the drawer, and smirked when he saw its contents. Pens? Really, it was insulting how little they thought of him, the perfect product of natural selection.
He heard a noise just beyond the door and paused before he grabbed a pen out of the roll and hid it in his palm. He carefully watched the door as it opened and his eyes followed the woman who subsequently walked in. She was wearing a nurse's costume, and a quaint one at that.
He was about to ask her if this was the Company's idea of a joke when she said something he hadn't been expecting:
"Zachary Blaine..?" She asked, looking up at him questioningly.
Sylar stared at her, gears turning in his head for a few seconds before his expression slowly widened into a warm smile.
"Yes, that's me," he said. His body visibly relaxed, though his grip on the pen stayed tight. Perhaps he had been hasty to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't be too sure. "Is this a hospital?"
The nurse gave a weirdly relieved sigh and smile. "You could say that," she said. "This is Landel's Institute, a hospital for the mentally ill."
Sylar frowned in a way that the nurse could interpret as concerned. This threw a wrench in any theory he'd come up with, but checking himself out wouldn't be a problem so long as they mistook him for someone else.
"I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic laugh, looking back to the female nurse, "but my head's a little fuzzy today. Could you remind me when I'm scheduled to be discharged?"
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Mr. Blaine. But--" she interjected, beaming at him, "if you keep up such stellar behavior, I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Landel gave you an early stamp of approval himself!"
M??
His eyes snapped open and he jolted up, feeling his person for the case and finding nothing. His eyes narrowed as his line of vision darted around the room; it was white and bare; it had two desks and two beds. He wasn't wearing what he had in Suresh's lab and he couldn't feel any wounds from being hit, but wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was...
"The healing blood," Sylar growled, body tense as he stood from the bed. This must have been a prison cell, because only prison cells made him feel as powerless and caged and enraged as this. He'd just gotten his hands on the cure! The cure! Had Mohinder tricked him with a drug in the needle? Had Maya knocked him out with the ability she didn't deserve? If they had, he wouldn't kill them when he saw them again since he still had use for them. But once he'd gotten all he could get, he'd make sure their deaths were slow. He looked forward to seeing what they'd say when they begged.
But he couldn't do that unless he had the cheerleader's blood, and right now he could only hope that the Company operative that appeared through the door would be ill-prepared like the last ones. After all, he'd escaped them twice. They were stupid and they underestimated his resourcefulness even without his abilities.
Sylar's eyes rested on the desk at the foot of his bed. He walked over towards it, pulled out the drawer, and smirked when he saw its contents. Pens? Really, it was insulting how little they thought of him, the perfect product of natural selection.
He heard a noise just beyond the door and paused before he grabbed a pen out of the roll and hid it in his palm. He carefully watched the door as it opened and his eyes followed the woman who subsequently walked in. She was wearing a nurse's costume, and a quaint one at that.
He was about to ask her if this was the Company's idea of a joke when she said something he hadn't been expecting:
"Zachary Blaine..?" She asked, looking up at him questioningly.
Sylar stared at her, gears turning in his head for a few seconds before his expression slowly widened into a warm smile.
"Yes, that's me," he said. His body visibly relaxed, though his grip on the pen stayed tight. Perhaps he had been hasty to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't be too sure. "Is this a hospital?"
The nurse gave a weirdly relieved sigh and smile. "You could say that," she said. "This is Landel's Institute, a hospital for the mentally ill."
Sylar frowned in a way that the nurse could interpret as concerned. This threw a wrench in any theory he'd come up with, but checking himself out wouldn't be a problem so long as they mistook him for someone else.
"I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic laugh, looking back to the female nurse, "but my head's a little fuzzy today. Could you remind me when I'm scheduled to be discharged?"
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Mr. Blaine. But--" she interjected, beaming at him, "if you keep up such stellar behavior, I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Landel gave you an early stamp of approval himself!"
Sylar smiled wide enough to show his teeth.
"Then I guess I'll make sure to behave."