YEARS GONE
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter VIII: The Guy in Charge
Yamagato Fellowship Regional Office
Rosette, Utah
Tuesday, May 18, 2021, 1:40 AM MST
Peter technically did not have an office in the Utah Branch. He was instead borrowing
the office of former Sergeant Major Joe Henderson. As such, it was decorated with
family pictures and Marine memorabilia, almost wholly pre-2007. Peter had spread a
large map across the far wall and was staring at it when Molly and Joey arrived.
"You didn't need to bring your computer, Molly."
"Oh," she sat down and set it beside her chair.
Peter sat down at the desk and handed Joey a file, "Messages from your parents."
Joey flipped through it, "I don't suppose this is why we're here."
"No," he gestured at the wall map, "That's Nuremberg Air Force Base. The guy in
charge there, Bob Maslarak, is planning an attack on SG City."
"Good lord," Joey remarked, "Did he LIKE what happened in 2016?"
Peter pulled a file out of the desk, "Henderson's old Marine buddies tell him they're
trying to make some sort of 'Haitian-like' missile."
"Son of a bitch," Molly muttered, flipping through the file, "And it's working?!"
"We don't know. That's why you're here, Molly. I need you to see what's going on
around him."
"Really?" she smirked, "The Great Papa Petrelli can't do it himself?"
Peter rolled his eyes, "Not any longer. I can't devote myself to CONSTANTLY scanning
for someone," he leaned back in his chair, "Anyway, I've got something like four
hundred abilities. I can barely remember them all. I can't practice them all. Molly, your
better than this than I am."
She stood up, "Fine. Got any pins?"
"Sir," Joey asked, "If I may. It's one-forty in the freaking morning! Do I really have to be
here?"
Peter chuckled, "Just a few more minutes, Joey." He handed Molly a packet of circular
stickers, "These okay, Moll?"
"Sure," she said, peeling a sticker off the sheet and walking towards the wall map.
Joey and Peter followed her.
"I'd like to see if we see the same thing," Peter said.
"Right." Molly held the sticker in front of the giant map and took a deep breath. She
closed her eyes.
"He's a tall fellow, long face, thinning hair?"
"Yeah," Peter said.
"He's in a room with windows along one wall and a door opposite," She put the sticker
on the map in a room labeled "Briefing II," "He's standing in front of a projector
screen."
"I see that too."
"There's a large table in there. There's a redheaded woman--it's unnaturally bright,
dyed."
"I've never been able to see anyone other than the person I'm focusing on," Peter said.
"She's upset, angry. Part of it seems that her coffee's cold, and she just spat some out.
Part of it is that another man is harassing her. He's tall, somewhat rounder face, black
hair. He resembles you, Pete, kinda. The final guy is average height, has a square jaw
and neatly trimmed black hair. I think he's Asian."
"Can you get any names?" Joey asked.
"Well, I think the woman is--WAIT! Another man just ran in. He's handing a folder to the
General. He says the 'FGR-207' is nearly ready."
"That's the missile," Peter said.
"The jerk who was bugging the redhead--Harris, his name is Harris--is protesting,
saying he won't allow them to test on his men. The General's changing the subject.
He's showing a picture, talking about the Middle School Massacre in 2011. He--Good
God!"
"WHAT?!"
"Sorry, it's just the picture he showed them. It looks like a guy crushed by a
steamroller. He says it was done by a guy who can manipulate air. The others--HOLY
SHIT!!!" Her eyes flew open.
"What happened?!" Joey asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She was staring at the map, breathing heavily, "There was a--a vibe, from a source I
can't identify, but I know it. I could never forget it."
"What?" Peter asked, "Who? WHO?!"
She turned to stare at Joey, "Sylar."
***
He put his keft hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling, smirking.
"I wonder, Barry," he whispered aloud, idly inspecting his other hand, "If your ability
will kill me before I can kill you." He let a tiny whiff of nuclear energy to seep from his
hands, "I wouldn't bet on it."
He looked down on the floor and telekinetically drew his sketchbook towards him and
began to flip the pages, again using only his mind. He grinned at the sketch before him.
"I wouldn't bet on it at all."
By Unlikely Hiro
Chapter VIII: The Guy in Charge
Yamagato Fellowship Regional Office
Rosette, Utah
Tuesday, May 18, 2021, 1:40 AM MST
Peter technically did not have an office in the Utah Branch. He was instead borrowing
the office of former Sergeant Major Joe Henderson. As such, it was decorated with
family pictures and Marine memorabilia, almost wholly pre-2007. Peter had spread a
large map across the far wall and was staring at it when Molly and Joey arrived.
"You didn't need to bring your computer, Molly."
"Oh," she sat down and set it beside her chair.
Peter sat down at the desk and handed Joey a file, "Messages from your parents."
Joey flipped through it, "I don't suppose this is why we're here."
"No," he gestured at the wall map, "That's Nuremberg Air Force Base. The guy in
charge there, Bob Maslarak, is planning an attack on SG City."
"Good lord," Joey remarked, "Did he LIKE what happened in 2016?"
Peter pulled a file out of the desk, "Henderson's old Marine buddies tell him they're
trying to make some sort of 'Haitian-like' missile."
"Son of a bitch," Molly muttered, flipping through the file, "And it's working?!"
"We don't know. That's why you're here, Molly. I need you to see what's going on
around him."
"Really?" she smirked, "The Great Papa Petrelli can't do it himself?"
Peter rolled his eyes, "Not any longer. I can't devote myself to CONSTANTLY scanning
for someone," he leaned back in his chair, "Anyway, I've got something like four
hundred abilities. I can barely remember them all. I can't practice them all. Molly, your
better than this than I am."
She stood up, "Fine. Got any pins?"
"Sir," Joey asked, "If I may. It's one-forty in the freaking morning! Do I really have to be
here?"
Peter chuckled, "Just a few more minutes, Joey." He handed Molly a packet of circular
stickers, "These okay, Moll?"
"Sure," she said, peeling a sticker off the sheet and walking towards the wall map.
Joey and Peter followed her.
"I'd like to see if we see the same thing," Peter said.
"Right." Molly held the sticker in front of the giant map and took a deep breath. She
closed her eyes.
"He's a tall fellow, long face, thinning hair?"
"Yeah," Peter said.
"He's in a room with windows along one wall and a door opposite," She put the sticker
on the map in a room labeled "Briefing II," "He's standing in front of a projector
screen."
"I see that too."
"There's a large table in there. There's a redheaded woman--it's unnaturally bright,
dyed."
"I've never been able to see anyone other than the person I'm focusing on," Peter said.
"She's upset, angry. Part of it seems that her coffee's cold, and she just spat some out.
Part of it is that another man is harassing her. He's tall, somewhat rounder face, black
hair. He resembles you, Pete, kinda. The final guy is average height, has a square jaw
and neatly trimmed black hair. I think he's Asian."
"Can you get any names?" Joey asked.
"Well, I think the woman is--WAIT! Another man just ran in. He's handing a folder to the
General. He says the 'FGR-207' is nearly ready."
"That's the missile," Peter said.
"The jerk who was bugging the redhead--Harris, his name is Harris--is protesting,
saying he won't allow them to test on his men. The General's changing the subject.
He's showing a picture, talking about the Middle School Massacre in 2011. He--Good
God!"
"WHAT?!"
"Sorry, it's just the picture he showed them. It looks like a guy crushed by a
steamroller. He says it was done by a guy who can manipulate air. The others--HOLY
SHIT!!!" Her eyes flew open.
"What happened?!" Joey asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She was staring at the map, breathing heavily, "There was a--a vibe, from a source I
can't identify, but I know it. I could never forget it."
"What?" Peter asked, "Who? WHO?!"
She turned to stare at Joey, "Sylar."
***
He put his keft hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling, smirking.
"I wonder, Barry," he whispered aloud, idly inspecting his other hand, "If your ability
will kill me before I can kill you." He let a tiny whiff of nuclear energy to seep from his
hands, "I wouldn't bet on it."
He looked down on the floor and telekinetically drew his sketchbook towards him and
began to flip the pages, again using only his mind. He grinned at the sketch before him.
"I wouldn't bet on it at all."
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