He kept running. He couldn't stop. Laughter rang in his ears as the man behind him ran as well. Jacob couldn't shake the feeling that this man was toying with him, that if he wanted this to end, Jacob's life would be extinguished by now.

But he kept running anyway. He couldn't fight, despite how he'd tried.

"That's the typical solution!" Came the voice behind him, still laughing, still running. "Run as fast as your legs can carry you, because you can never get far enough away!"

Jacob didn't respond. His heart was hammering. His lungs felt like they would explode.

There was a flash of light, and a nearby tree collapsed. Splinters dug into his skin as he scrambled over it, trying to ignore the laughter behind him…

He ran into something, and stumbled backwards, swearing breathlessly.

The man smiled and wrapped his hand around Jacob's throat. "Hello." He said cheerfully.

Jacob couldn't respond. He clawed at the hands around his throat, kicked and struggled, but the man had an iron grip that remained even after his hands let go.

"Sorry about this." The man smirked, raising a finger towards Jacob's forehead. He paused, reconsidering. "Oh, wait. That's a lie." He grinned malevolently. "I'm not sorry at all."

Jacob screamed as red hot pain seared through his forehead. The man continued to smile as the dark night wore on…

"That. Is…" Anthony DiNozzo looked like he'd lose his lunch.

"Disturbing?" Ziva David suggested.

"Disgusting." he corrected.

Most of those who examined the body agreed; the sight was a particularly gruesome one. The top of his head had been severed, and blood pooled heavily around the area.

"His name was Jacob Reddon." Ziva informed him. "He was twenty-three years old."

"Family?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked, walking up next to them.

"A sister. Anna Reddon. No one else."

"I was told she took it pretty badly when she heard." Tony said, trying to keep his eyes off of the body. "Apparently the two were close."

"No motive, then?" Gibbs asked.

"None."

"Right. Get the body to Ducky. See what he can find out."

Tony knocked on the door, gently. "Anna Reddon?"

"Coming!" Someone inside snapped harshly.

He waited for a minute, and the door was yanked open by a young woman. She had flaming red hair, and bright brown eyes that seemed flecked with amber.

"Anna?"

She shook her head. "Katie." She extended a hand. "Family friend." She looked at him for a moment before continuing "Anna's pretty shook up about the whole thing. Doesn't really want to talk."

But Tony ignored the last sentence, showing her his ID. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Can I come in?"

Katie looked back at the house warily. "Umm… she's really not in a taking mood."

Tony just raised an eyebrow. "Please?" he added.

She glared at him. "I take it you're not going to give up?"

"Not a chance."

She sighed heavily. "This way."

She opened the door wider so that Tony could walk in.

He followed her down a corridor, into a small room. It had pale blue walls, and large bed, a single swivel chair, and a TV.

There, on the bed, was a young woman. A tube was in her throat, obviously there to enable breathing. An IV was in her arm, and she was hooked up to wires and machinery. Not a person who would be able to go outside and murder her brother.

Tony swallowed, taken off guard. "I… I didn't know, I'm sorry…"

Katie glared at him. "Yeah, well, you do now."

"What is it?"

"Lung cancer." She replied simply. "Hasn't been able to breathe on her own for a while now." She sighed heavily. "Only got a few weeks left. If you're optimistic. Most doctors say it'll be days."

There was silence for a moment.

Finally, Katie turned to him. "She's asleep now, but if you want to ask any questions, I can…you know. Do it for her."

Tony nodded, and Katie led them out of the room.

"She was devastated when she found out." Katie said as she sat down, her eyes unfocused, as though she was trying to, or trying not to, remember something. "She cried for the better part of an hour. Eventually, I had to give her a sedative, get her to sleep so she didn't exhaust herself."

Tony swallowed, unsure of what to say. Finally, he asked, "Do you know anyone who had a grudge against Jacob? Someone who might have…?"

"Murdered him?" She intervened, then shook her head. "No. Jake was a good guy. Almost everyone he met liked him instantly."

"Almost?" Tony jumped on the word.

Katie swallowed nervously, keeping her mouth shut.

"Well?" Tony asked.

She sighed. "You have to understand. Jake was… different… from most people. I mean, not in a bad way," She added hastily, noting Tony's expression. "But…" She looked down.

"But…?"

She looked back at him, and just stared in silence for a long time.

"Katie, if you know anyone who might have done this…"

"Oh, I know exactly who did it, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." She said suddenly. "And I know why."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Jake was special." She whispered. "He could do things no one else could. He only ever had one enemy, and that enemy didn't even know who he was."

Tony looked at her, puzzled. "But how…?"

But Katie would not be stopped. Her words were flowing in a rush, as though she was suddenly desperate to say them. "Jake had an enemy, one who killed him because of who and what he was."

Tony thought about this. "Like a racial thing? The guy was prejudiced against this kind of 'special' person?"

"No, no no." She shook her head irritably. "Worse than that. Jake was different from almost everyone else. He could…"

"That's enough, Katie!" A sharp voice interrupted.

Katie swallowed, the blood draining from her face. She looked down hurriedly.

Tony turned to face the man. He was tall, and had huge muscles that said he spent every free moment in the gym. Scars decorated his arms and face, and there was a nasty-looking burn on the side of his neck. Behind him, around three people were standing, watching Tony and Katie carefully.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And you would be…?"

"I don't think names matter." The man growled.

Katie glared hatefully at him. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, this is Brock." Her eyes narrowed.

He glared at her, then dismissed her remark with the wave of a hand. "Like I said. Names don't matter." He turned to Tony and handed him few pieces of paper. "And I'm afraid her statements don't either. Not to you." He smiled somewhat nastily as Tony hesitantly looked over the documents, raising an eyebrow at the president's signature.

Tony sighed heavily. "So we're off this case?" he questioned.

"Oh, no." Brock replied with a smile. "You're just not permitted to ask neither Katie nor Anna any questions relating to

Jacob Reddon." He looked pointedly at Katie, who looked down again. Her anger had ebbed away once more, and now she looked absolutely terrified.

Tony nodded slowly, compliantly, though he knew that Gibbs would never accept this. "Very well. I'll just… get out of your hair, shall I?"

Brock nodded once, sharply. Tony backed out of the room slowly, then walked out of the house, listening carefully. But no one said a word until he was out the door.

"What are you playing at?" Brock demanded of Katie as soon as the door had closed behind Tony.

Katie winced. "He deserves to know!"

Brock raised a hand like he might slap her, but she stared him down. "Do you realize what this means for her?"

"Stop it!" Katie cried, on her feet suddenly. "She never did anything to you! She's not dangerous, and I'm sick of you holding her over my head every time you want someone to do your dirty work! Forget it! She wouldn't want this!"

ENOUGH!

Katie, Brock, and the few men who had come with him gasped in pain as the voice rang through their minds.

Leave us, Brock! And take the slime with you!

Katie smirked as Brock and the others (aforementioned 'slime') slowly backed out of the house.

"This isn't over." Brock hissed threateningly at Katie. She swallowed, but stared directly into his eyes until he left.

Gibbs wasn't in a good mood. DiNozzo had told him about what had happened with Anna and Katie. He didn't particularly like people telling him how to do his job, and whenever people told him not to do something, he made it his business to ignore them.

"Tell me you have something." He asked Doctor 'Ducky' Mallard.

Ducky sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. The wound on his head was inflicted premortem. And it was what killed him in the end." He sighed again. "Though I have no idea how it was done."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it was done with some sort of very fine, very sharp, and very precise blade!" Ducky said, obviously irritated. He looked at Gibbs and calmed down instantly. "You have to understand. There isn't a blade in the world that could do this, especially not with a live victim. There's no evidence that Jacob Redden was unconscious while this happened, so he would have been struggling. There's no possible way a blade could do that!"

Gibbs looked at him. "Anything else?"

Ducky nodded, grateful for the subject change. "Fortunately, yes. We found a set of fingerprints on the throat area. Abby's analyzing them now."

Music blared and Abigail Sciuto danced from computer to computer, never keeping still.

Gibbs entered the room with a large drink, and Abby smiled.

"Yes!" She snagged the drink from his hand and glued her lips to the straw for a moment before speaking again. "You are a life saver."

Gibbs smiled at her. "Anything on those fingerprints?"

She shook her head, her lips once more on the bright red straw, only taken off to say, "When I find out, you'll be the second to know!" She twirled back to the computer screen. "But I did find something interesting."

Gibbs came up next to her.

"So, I saw this freaky little burn mark on his shirt, which made no sense to me. So, I did a few tests, and guess what I found?"

"What?"

She took a large gulp of her drink before answering. "It's radioactive." She replied, pleased with herself.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Radioactive?"

"Yep. I tested all of it. His clothes were about to explode. Had to lock them up."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "You're sure about this?"

Abby looked at him indignantly. "When have I ever been wrong?"

He smiled and she smiled back, turning to a different computer screen.

Ducky was starting to get somewhat annoyed by the body in the room. "Who did this to you, hmm? Someone very skilled with a blade, of course, but who…?"

He trailed off. "How?" he asked instead.

"It's a long story."

Ducky jumped, then slowly turned around to face the corpse.

Thankfully, its eyes were closed. It hadn't moved.

And there was someone living inside the room.

He was wearing all black. He had short, dark hair, and a very serious expression on his face.

"Why now, though?" the man asked, not looking at Ducky, but at the corpse. "Why would he do this now? When did he find out?" he started pacing.

"Does he know about the sister? What about Katie?" He stopped, his face suddenly pale. "What about…?"

He started pacing again. "Where is he?" he roared suddenly, knocking into a glass cabinet and throwing it over in rage. Glass and chemicals littered the floor.

"If you would be so kind as to not destroy anything else…!" Ducky said angrily, trailing off as the man looked at him for the first time.

The man looked stunned that Ducky was there. No one said anything for a moment, then the man nodded slowly.

"Yes. Yes. You're right, of course. Sorry." He looked at the shattered glass for a moment, as though unsure of what to do, then lifted a hand.

The cabinet rose with his hand, standing upright once more. The unbroken bottles rose in mid-air, then landed on the shelves. The glass and liquids went to the trash cans.

Satisfied, the man turned around. "Er… right. Sorry about the glass. And anything… else I might have broken." He looked more than a little awkward, seemingly having just noticed Ducky was there.

Ducky swallowed, his eyes still on the now-clear area. "How… How did you…?"

The man turned to the cabinet, then back to Ducky. "Oh. Right. You don't know, do you?" he sighed heavily.

"Know what?" Ducky asked tentatively.

He never found out what the man was going to say next, because, at that moment, someone screamed.

Abby started running. She grabbed the first defensive object she could (a pair of scissors) and held them threateningly at the smirking man in front of her.

He laughed. "Aw, look at that. Most just start running." His laughed died down to a chuckle. "You're brave, I'll give you that."

"Stay away!" She warned.

He smiled. "Could you really do it, Abigail Sciuto? Could you actually kill someone?"

She held the scissors higher. "How do you know my name?" She demanded.

He was suddenly right next to her, and Abby had to reposition the scissors. "Oh, I know a lot of things. I know you have a set of fingerprints that interest me." He glared at the office. "NCIS. Never thought you lot would give me trouble." He sighed and turned back to Abby. "But your actions tipped off the wrong people. So I have to fix everything you did." His eyes darkened. "So just give me any information you have on those fingerprints, and I'll leave, shall I?"

She glared at him, raising the scissors higher. "Don't make me do this."

He smiled and stepped even closer. "By all means, do what you'd like. I'm sure it won't affect me in the slightest."

He moved suddenly, and instinct took over. Abby brought the scissors down, into his chest.

But he didn't seem to care.

In fact, he laughed.

"Good!" He praised her. "Very good. You missed the heart, though." He carefully gripped the scissors, and pulled them out of his chest, where the hole healed itself.

He grinned maliciously. "Sorry, Abby. I actually kind of liked you." He sighed and placed the still bloody scissors on the table. Abby backed away, her eyes wide with shock.

He came towards her slowly as she backed away. "Now. Where are those fingerprints?"

She kept her mouth shut, still too stunned to answer.

He sighed again. "I tried to be nice." He raised a hand, a single finger pointed at her forehead.

A crimson line started to appear, and Abby screamed.

The first person to react to Abby's scream was not Gibbs. Nor was it Tony, nor McGee, nor Ducky.

It was the strange man who had suddenly appeared and had smashed Ducky's cabinet.

"He's here!" he cried, and started to run.

Ducky followed, though found he could not keep up as the man sped down the corridors, following the sound of Abby's screaming.

He burst through into the room, causing the man to stop in his attack. He dropped Abby, and she landed on the floor, scrambling to get away before the man slammed a foot into her head, knocking her out.

The man smirked. "Ah, Peter Petrelli. How did I know you'd be here?"

The other's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he launched himself at the other man, his hands lit with a strange, crackling blue light.

But the other man smirked and pressed the scissors into Peter's hands. "Enjoy prison!" he whispered, stabbing the scissor blades into his own chest.

Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva came into the room. Gibbs raised his gun. "Put the scissors down!"

The man who had attacked Abby was a brilliant actor. He chocked, blood splattering from his lips. He stumbled backwards theatrically, looking at the scissors as though he couldn't believe they were there.

Peter's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. "No!" He cried. "It's not me, it's him! He's the…" He trailed off as he looked at the disbelieving faces. Torn with indecision, he placed his hands on his head, looking warily at the man on the floor, who was covered in blood.

Ducky looked at the table with the dead man on it. He sighed. "Not a good way to go, is it?" He cleared away the blood carefully.

The corpse's eyes snapped open, and Ducky leapt backwards.

"Not particularly." He mused as he sat up slowly. He smirked, and Ducky remembered no more.

"My name is Peter. Peter Petrelli. And I didn't kill him."

"Oh?" Tony was smiling. "So, what, the scissors leapt from your hand and into his chest, did they?"

Peter let out an agonized groan of frustration. "Don't you get it? He killed Jacob Reddon!"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And, what, you wanted revenge?"

"No! Listen to me, he's going to get out! He wants your friend dead, the one with all the tattoos!"

"Abby?"

"Yes!" Peter stood up. "And for some reason, I don't know what, he wants her dead, do you understand? Dead. And if he wants her dead then it will happen. Sooner or later, he will kill her."

Tony looked at him, suddenly disgusted. "You killed him! How could he be a threat to anyone?"

"Because it's…" He started, but trailed off as he saw the unfocused look in Tony's eyes. "No." he breathed. "Oh, no no no no…"

"What?" Tony demanded.

Peter leapt to his feet. "You bastard! You low-life son of a bitch!" He swore over and over, the worst words he knew. Tony suddenly got very still, standing in position as though frozen. He didn't seem to notice Peter anymore.

Peter slammed his hands against the mirror, where he knew the other man was watching him. "She's nothing, she's human!" He curled his hands into fists, slamming them again and again into the mirror. "You asshole! Don't you see, she's only human!" In his desperation, Peter could not stop himself. He chocked, desperate to destroy the man on the other side. "She's human! I'm… I'm not!"

He paused for a moment, listening almost hopefully.

"Very noble, Peter Petrelli." An amused voice called from the other room, carried over by some sort of microphone. "Surprising, though, considering that Abby is, like you said, only human. And, as far as I know, there's no past history…" The voice thought about this for a moment. "You two never dated, did you?"

"You should know me better than that by now." Peter replied. "I've given this a lot of thought. And if it would stop you killing everyone…" he closed his eyes. "Then so help me, I don't care if you take my ability. It's not like I can die."

There was silence for a minute. Finally, the other man spoke again. "You'd really let me just… take it?"

Peter nodded.

"Just come in there…" There was a note of excitement in the man's voice now. "Slice open your head, and become just like you?"

Peter nodded again. "Whatever it takes. Just stop killing everyone!"

There was a long, thoughtful silence. Peter tried not to think about how badly it would hurt, how powerful the most dangerous man alive would become afterwards… but he knew it was for the best.

Finally, the reply came. "No."

Peter was taken off guard. "What do you mean, no?" He tried to be angry, but he was too bewildered.

"I mean no."

"Why not?" the desperation was back. Peter felt his heart speed up.

"There's something I never told you, Peter Petrelli. Something hardly anyone knows." There was a pause (the man always did like his theatrics) before he spoke again.

"This is who I am, don't you see? I am a killer, and no ability of yours would ever stop that." He thought for a moment, then added, "Though I never expected you'd go that far. I'm impressed. And seriously tempted, so watch out for your forehead."

There was a longer silence this time, and Peter thought he was gone before his voice came back over the microphone once more. "Oh, and I'd sit down if I were you. I'm altering their memory to put the blame on you for Jacob Reddon's death. Hope you don't mind."

"Course not." Peter growled bitterly. He sat down, resigned to his fate.

He heard a faint chuckle, and then, "Well, you and I both know that you could get out of here if you wanted. But there are a few people on this side, so I'd suggest not nuking it. You might be able to survive, but I doubt the same is true for them. Telekinesis might work. Oh, no it won't. I fixed the glass so that it lets out a bit of sealed radiation if you break it. Little trick I've been working on, works pretty well. Well, it sucks to be you, but other than that…"

Peter's eyes narrowed hatefully. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What do they remember about you?"

"What? The man who was stabbed with the scissors but somehow got off of the autopsy tables? You think I'd let them remember that? You insult me!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I mean, am I going to get blamed for your murder as well?" He bit out.

"Oh. That. No. I never existed, apparently." He laughed. "Handy little ability, this. Wish I found out about it years ago; those FBI idiots would never have been on my back, and I wouldn't have my name plastered on a million websites. Ah, well. Live and learn."

And then he was gone. Anthony DiNozzo started questioning Peter again, but he kept his temper in check. As far as the world knew, Peter Petrelli was a murderer.

"Abigail Sciuto?" The man looked in the hospital room.

Abby smiled weakly, then looked at him in shock. "You!" She breathed.

The man who had once attacked her with a pair of scissors smiled. "Yes. Me."

And the world turned black.

"He keeps saying he's innocent." Tony thought out loud.

"He's a liar." Ziva replied.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, thank you for that wonderful bit of advice which simplifies everything." He snorted, once more thinking about Jacob Redden, and, more importantly, his 'family friend', Katie.

"Katie really wanted to tell me something." He said, frustrated. "But they stopped her…" he bit his lip thoughtfully. "It just doesn't add up…" he whispered.

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Was she cute?"

Tony looked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. Did you think she was cute?"

Tony saw where this was going, but answered anyway. "Well, yeah, sort of…"

"Mystery solved!" Ziva said sarcastically. "You thought she was cute and want an excuse to go back and talk to her." She snorted.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Ha ha. You're a bundle of laughs, aren't you?" but he ignored all further comments.

Because Katie did know something. He was sure of it.

"Hi. I think you remember me?"

Katie smiled dryly. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. How could I forget?"

"Yes, well, I was wondering if I could just ask you something…"

She looked panicked for a moment, motioning to the other room with her head. Tony got the idea, but pretended to act dumb.

"Listen, I was wondering if you'd… ah…" he looked down at his feet, as though embarrassed.

"What?"

"Would you like… to go out with me? Tomorrow night?"

She looked at him in absolute confusion.

Tony winked at her and gestured vaguely to the other room, where he guessed Brock was listening in.

Katie's puzzlement turned to understanding in a split second, and then into sheer joy.

She nodded quickly. "Um, yeah! Yeah, sure."

He smiled widely. "Sounds great! There's this nice little restaurant and everything, and… yea… I'll pick you up?"

She smiled. "Sure. Why not?"

"Ok, so… eight o'clock?"

She nodded again, and he smiled. "Great. See you then?"

"Yeah. See you. Oh, um, my number! You might, you know, need it." She blushed.

He smiled kindly and she ran inside, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. She hurriedly scribbled something on it before handing it to him.

She grinned. "See you tomorrow, I guess…"

He chuckled. "See you tomorrow." He started walking to the car.

He didn't look at the paper until he was in the car. On it was an actual phone number, but for once that wasn't what interested him.

It was the small sentence underneath it.

His name is Sylar.