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It's a regular caravan that shows up at Metropolis today.

Vehicle One: The Coraline, a modifies pick-up truck being driven by everyone's favourite bloodthirsty pirate, with a distinctly anti-killing ex-Robin in the passenger seat. The ghost of a teenage girl is technically sitting on the roof of the cabin, but sometimes she pokes her head in to interrupt the boys in their conversation.

Vehicle Two: A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the only one blaring out tunes, while the driver and his blonde passenger sit in relative silence, not having much to say to each other.

Vehicle Three: A Porsche, containing one carefully prepared hunter and one blind woman who prides herself on not needing any preparation. The conversation in that one is a little more lively, even containing the occasional laugh from the girl.

It's a ridiculous procession, considering they don't really know where they're going. But Jack has all six of his senses peeled, looking for a young teenage girl of Chinese origin who isn't a young teenage girl of Chinese origin.

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The conversation would be even more lively in the Porsche if being in Metropolis wasn't the basis for some trepidation for Sam. Since their last argument, Dean wouldn't listen to anything regarding the job - and honestly, Sam's ideas weren't that great to begin with. Plus, he still isn't exactly sure what they're looking for, aside from a Chinese teenager.

He's hoping everyone else is keeping their eyes peeled, because there's only one person in the Porsche capable of looking for people and his attention is also on driving.

Leah has her homemade bow between her legs like a kid with her favourite toy, occasionally tapping faint rhythms on it. Her stories have been about her family, again; her Dad and brother, stepmother and stepsister, Eddie and her friends on Pax Youth. Jokes and character studies more than details and anecdotes.

She hasn't said anything for a few minutes when she observes;

"OK since the car slowed down you've been awfully quiet. Are you trying to look?"

It takes Sam a moment to answer, partly because he's thoughtful and partly because it surprises him. "I thought it might help, yeah," he points out, smiling a little at her.

He hasn't been nearly as talkative, but then she's been talking about family and he's not much for the topic at the moment.

"You know you're perfectly welcome to tell me to shut the hell up, then," she says. "Not so good with the visual clues, here."

"I don't need my ears to look," Sam points out, if a little quickly. He doesn't want to insult her, but he's also used to a much quieter carmate. "It wasn't bothering me, listening to you, I'm just a little too distracted to add anything>"

"OK," Leah says. "I just didn't wanna talk your ear off, is all. I think I got extra talky since coming here."

"Guess it happens when there's no one to talk to for a long time." Sam glances at her and grins, quick. "I don't mind, really."

"Well, good," Leah says. "Cause I hate silence."

And really, she feels she has a right to. "So what's going on now?"

"We're driving," Sam reports. "I think Jack's truck is slowing, maybe they found something."

"Oh, great," Leah says, leaning back in her seat a little. "But you can't see the girl?"

"I can't see anything. I'm not even sure why they stopped." Sam rolls down his window and leans out of it, craning his head to get a look. "No one's getting out."

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Over inna other car, the blonde passenger with one foot tucked under her, was looking between the car in front of her and the car in the side view mirror. Jo'd been doing this since they slowed to a stop in the street.

"At some point it's going to wear off that we're caravaning."

Maybe the idea, but not the ludicrous watching it.

"Oh, it's definitely already worn off," Dean grumbles. He's been irritable all trip.

This does not surprise anyone in the least.

"I hope we find the stupid chick soon. This is the last time I do favours f'anyone, I swear. Freakin' caravaning."

Yeah, no surprise here. It's very Dean.

Jo slightly glances at him during the second only to look back to Jack's still unmoving car. Dean might bitch but she doubts he'll ever pass up the chance to be all sibling issues on someone else's sibling issues.

She tapped her window, drumming her nail on it.

"What is he looking at?"

"Dunno." Dean is frowning, sibling issues simmering right at the surface. "I can't see anything."

Sylar can't be as active as he'd like in acquiring new abilities. This is dictated by caution, since he can't risk news of his continued survival getting back to Eden or Darla or Chandra; sensibly, he's aware that any of them (well, except Chandra) can lay the beatdown on him, and in his own specially snowflakish batshit way he considers them dirty double-crossers who would leap at the chance to do just that.

Yeah, let's not even try to follow that last bit of logic. I promise that it's internally consistent, but when pointing out what's wrong with it according to real-world reasoning, it's difficult to even know where to start.

The relevant information which can be gleaned from all this is that Sylar is still limited to intuitive aptitude and phasing, and that he's not out stalking for brains 24/7. The narration will now expand this in order to enlighten you with the following facts: he's in the old hotel in which he currently lives with that Hannibal guy, and he's walking through the walls.

Phasing objects through other objects. Holding a phone in your left hand and letting a pool ball drop through your right. If he's to be limited in quantity, then by God he's going to shove quality skyward and master every trick that this power offers.

Jack has the following things to go on: Jubilation's communicated perception of her own body, Dick's impression of the same, and the limited knowledge of the possessor she was able to retain from her brief encounter. He's using them to try and Read the traces people always leave behind.

It's hard, as the intruder really hasn't been out much. He stops the Coraline near an alley, where an old bloodstain marks the passing of the only victim. He doesn't get out, just studies from the drivers seat.

For all that it's old, it's still fairly impressive. There was a fair amount of gore from the stomach wound, and the spray from a throat so deeply slit is quite the long-distance traveller. And you can probably imagine the mess that chiselling someone's head open makes all over the brick and concrete.

The body itself is off clogging up a sewage pipe somewhere that should be impassable. Phasing is a useful tool when you want to hide a distinctively sliced skull.

A breeze blows through the alley, so cold it leaves ice on the edge of the bricks.

"What the %&*$? Is this my body? Am I dead? I'd know if I was dead, right? Holy #%$*!"

"Nay."

Jack answers Jubilation casually, with a slightly distracted air.

"He was here though. The body we're looking for killed this girl."

His voice is calm, level, and unaffected by the sight. After a few moments, he drives on. After picking up speed as he gets the hang of the trail, Jack turns suddenly and directly towards a derelict hotel, outside which he parks definitively, jumping out. Dick is close behind.

In Metropolis, the sound of a vehicle's engine is not one you could exactly call 'common'. This sound strikes Sylar as veeery interesting, because that sound means working transport, and transport means he can search for new abilities much farther afield than he's currently able to. His older self mentioned a Kansas farm, for instance.

Yes, he has a one-track mind. Deal with it.

Cue: one surreptitious teenage face, peeking from an upstairs window!

...Oh, my. Visitors.

Sam frowns when the cars in front of his turn sharply and follows. "Looks like everyone's getting out," he informs Leah, throwing the car in park and opening his door. "C'mon."

Leah opens the door gently and finds her feet cautiously, but then she's standing with easy grace and has her stick out, working her way aroung the car to find Sam.

"Where are we?"

Sam leans toward her when she comes closer but doesn't offer an arm. He wants his hands free, aside from the one holding the handgun. "Looks like a beat-up hotel," he replies, unsure, and starts walking quickly toward the rest. "Hey! What's going on?"