[Automated voice] "Hello, you have reached the voice message service of-"

[Sylar's voice] "Isaac Mendez."

[Automated voice] "-who is not currently available. Please leave a message after the beep or press pound to page. Thank you."

*Beep*

Sylar hasn't been around for a couple of days. He'd had to check up on a few things, and was using the PINpoint to do it. He hadn't been 'home' in far too long.

So by the time he returns to the small apartment they were now living in (the single mother was no longer in a state to mind, and neither was her child), Sylar was exhausted. Hopefully, Smokey would just leave him alone and let him sleep when he got back home, but- he doubts it. The most he could hope for in that department would be if she was out finding something to eat.

It'd been getting harder and harder to tell which one was a dream, and which was reality. Having these powers was tantamount, of course. But in the dreams where he's driving those helpless lambs up to New York, he doesn't have anything burning inside him. He only has the drive to reach salvation. It's much more quiet, even when he's yelling at Maya to keep driving.

He's remembering more and more of each switch. He can remember laying in that house in Canada, watching Smokey laugh and smile and play in her stupid way. He can remember Maya grinning like an idiot as he showed her that she can control her power, after all. He remembers breaking into Mohinder's apartment, burning up with Smokey in his arms. He remembers sliding the knife in Alejandro's chest, and the feeling of contentment that followed.

He can remember going to Suresh for the cure, holding Maya hostage, shooting her- he went there because he had no powers, and it was gnawing at him, pulling at and ripping up his insides. By the time he reached Suresh's apartment, he looked sickly and gray. But he still managed to get what he wanted. The cure. He was whole again.

He hadn't managed to get Claire's blood for himself with Smokey there, but that was okay, he already had his abilities back. He was just so hot inside. He was going to burn to death- luckily, he passed out first.

Which one is real? It started to mix together, visits to the Nexus and visits to New York. Once he got them all back, he found he had a little regeneration. He could heal his injuries, albeit a little slower than Claire. Now just where had THAT come from? He didn't really wonder about it, but he would use it. He felt sick again, though- like something inside him had died and a dark and horrible thing had decided to live there. He tried to ignore it.

He knew what he needed now. It was time to go after Claire again.

They had decided it- it was time to go after Claire again. This time would be the last. He would get her power, no matter what. And he would never have another virus again.

When he found the portal to the Nexus, he supposed he should've been surprised. When he found Smokey on the other side of it, wondering where he'd been, he just couldn't manage the shock. It all fit together. It all made too much sense. This is who he was now. This is what the Nexus has done to him.

It doesn't matter now, which one was a dream. He's got the same goal either way. With Smokey, it could be easier or harder- who knows? At least Claire won't be expecting it.

He was burning up. He was going to vomit molten lava, he knew it. And that was all he was aware of for the longest time. It stretched into forever.

Fortunately for Sylar, the forever did have to twist and break He was left with an urge to open his eyes. When he does, what he sees is somehow familiar- wood paneling, a nice tile bar area (now covered in splattered...something).

That was all he had before the pain started again. It felt like he was turning inside out. With a groan, Sylar rolled onto hs side. Even that inspired a brand new wave of pain. "What's-?"

So far, things had been pretty good. They hadn't settled anywhere, they hadn't had any close calls, they hadn't seen anyone from Pentex at all. No scary werewolves, no mindblasting men in suits. But there had also been very little in the way of 'medication', and Sylar has an itch that he doesn't dare scratch. It was exhausting work, trying to be alert all the damn time (he had thought he knew what that meant before). He needed some place to relax, to sleep. He needed the possibility of some sort of help.

This is his reasoning as he spots Mohinder walking in the Nexus. This is his reasoning as he follows at a distance, beckons Smokey to follow, then turns into mist. The mist sticks to him as he moves.

It was about what he had expected, at first. Just like another visit to the Company, except for the lack of oxygen. He didn't mind that, not too terribly much. He just shifted into mist- and being less tangible felt right.

They were straightforward when they talked to him. They wanted him to behave, to follow their orders. They were going to study him, take him apart piece by piece, and put him back together again. It was in his best interest to do what they want.

He stayed silent, merely giving their current spokesperson an angry glare. That person nodded and left the observation area. That night, they gave him a needle instead of food. He wondered if the drug was what they've been putting in the food. It was impossible to tell what exactly it was doing- making him weak, making him dependent? He suspected it as soon as he found himself actually craving the near-rotted beef they had been serving as dinner. He supposed he could stop eating, but what would that really accomplish?

( Unfortunately, that decision appeared to have been made for him that night... )

Sylar's been on edge ever since Smokey had told him about meeting one of her keepers in the Nexus. It was unlikely that they'd be able to track him or Smokey down, but- well, just look at her. Clearly, they were well-versed in making the impossible happen.

It's not until he starts hearing several elevated heartbeats heading straight for their door that he thinks maybe they should have relocated.

"Smokey." He picks her up off the couch telekinetically and sits her heavily on the kitchen counter, hoping to wake her up quickly. Now is not the time for a druggie daze. "We're leaving."

Sylar's feeling great after he had a chance to rest and recuperate. He really likes being able to turn into mist, floating through anything he pleases. He likes how comfortable he is. And he's really starting to like this house.

He listens for Smokey, curious where she is right now. They'd been practically inseperable since she'd healed him.

So! Sylar has just done a very dumb thing and agreed to be bound to a bane spirit, hailing from the ever-popular World of Darkness RPG. This means he's now something called a Fomor, which is something that shouldn't be. Basically a force of corruption has been shoved in his body, and now he's got a bunch of nifty new powers, and also a bunch of things that are killing him from the inside.

Right now he's focusing on the shiny new powers and not the hideous side effects. ( Let's take a look at those! )

It's funny. Gabriel's wallet is, legally, all his. After all, the license says Gabriel Paul Sylar- and he's definitely going to keep that, at the very least. The credit cards, everything. They're all his. He can even lay claim to the small folded picture inside, three people smiling awkwardly for a camera held at arm's length. It's all his.

So is the house at the address he's walking to. It's probably cosigned under his name. He really should have visited it before.

He smiles as he puts his hand on the knob, letting it unlock itself. He pushes the door open, eyes searching as he walks through, ears listening for a heartbeat. "Mohinder?" he calls out, cautiously.

It hadn't taken much to catch his alternate self. After all, the man left his job at the clinics every day at approximately the same time, followed the same route to the same portal. Sylar wondered if he was ever quite that stupid.

"I'll take that," he said to Gabriel as the man took out his cellphone.

Cowritten with my_fathers_task

The Indian man with the rather long, curly hair had been sitting in the Nexus for awhile- he merely watched everything, attentive. Occasionally, he would reach for a small pad of paper and jot things down. More than notes, though- he appears to be doodling.

There is another curly-haired Indian man watching him from across the Nexus with icy, knowing fury. He waits for a long while without making a move--he looks to be working up his nerve, or at least that's part of it, but he's waiting to see if Sylar (if it's Sylar, and he hardly doubts that it is) does anything overtly offensive. He's looking for evidence that the man might just be the harmless post-apocalypse alternate, and that's what makes him glance at the left wrist--he knows his alternate has severe scarring there. He doesn't see a scar. But he recognizes that goddamn watch, the Bulova tuning fork watch. He's being taunted with it.

Mohinder shoves his chair aside, livid, and advances on his 'alternate.' ( 'Take the illusion off, Sylar.' )

Note: This post happens before 'Repairs'.

A dying God. He hadn't believed in God for over a year, but now a dying one (The one) had babbled, spilled blood onto him, then disappeared. He stared at the words the blood eventually formed- I am I am the mechanical man. How fitting.

But it didn't bring him any closer to figuring out what happened, or what it meant. God wasn't supposed to die. And he liked this God- he could relate to him. So what now?

He debates it for awhile, but what else is he doing here but waiting? And He'd been talking about trying to prevent the end of the world- the end of all worlds, really. Wasn't that of interest to Sylar? He decides to try and find Him.

Of course, he has no idea where God would be. That's all right- when trying to accomplish something so ridiculous, there's only one way to begin.

He chooses a portal at random and steps through it.

Sylar heaved a sigh as he pressed the buttons on his new Pinpoint. None of this would count, it was really pointless, and he kept telling himself so every few minutes. However, on the off-chance that God's death really would bring about an apocalypse in all worlds, he had to do something about it.

Sometimes he wondered if he had finally gone crazy.

He threw the body of the teenaged boy over his shoulder and hit the 'Send' button. Calling Mohinder so rarely worked. It was time to pay him a visit- or some version of him, anyway. When his environment is done changing from formless Nexus to bright hallway, he knocks on the door in front of him.

He'd been walking for days. After so long without water, he didn't even know how many days. His dreams of talking with God were seeming more real than the sun beating down on his shoulders, and he almost welcomed the delirium. After all, it was cool and comfortable in that other place.

He finally found a road. That's what he'd been hoping for all this time, although he hadn't expected anything more than desert and trees. But here it is. He realizes as he started walking down the hill that he won't be able to stop. His muscles are useless now, and all he can hope to do is trip and fall into the middle of it.

Sylar doesn't like the taste of dirt, but somehow it's more welcome than he expected. This much dirt, piled and planed so cars can drive on it? It's civilization- he can only be relieved by that.

He passes out there, cooking in the heat, with a smile on his face.

I'm sorry, are you breathing?

She didn't understand. Sylar hadn't expected her to, but it was still disappointing.

No collapsed lung, no infection from the wound...

( He found he couldn't focus on her... )

He woke slowly, swimming up from consciousness, struggling. The first thing he could recognize was the pain in his chest. The second thing was a voice that kept fading in and out. "...still sleeping," was all he could parse. It wasn't Peter, wasn't anyone he recognized from the nexus clinics, so he pushed himself awake. He needed to figure out what was going on, and quickly. Groaning, he shifted in his seat and his eyes blinked open.

He wasn't expecting the beach. He could've been in New York, in any spot from the Nexus, but a beach? Why the hell would he be here?

( 'Good morning, sleepyhead.' )

Some practice goes better than others.

It had taken him a little over a week to track down the source of his newly acquired power, the one he'd taken from that random woman. The stick she'd used didn't seem to obey him, although he could feel something in it. But after some searching into the words she'd shouted in various worlds, he came across a series of books. They told him everything.

He was able to find a similar world without a problem. His discussion with Ollivander has been deeply frustrating- the man required money he didn't have, talked endlessly about things that didn't concern him. A year ago, he would have been so fascinated, he would have asked thousands of questions. Now he only wanted a wand that would work.

He eventually had to resort to pickpocketing, which included a trip to an entirely different world with an entirely different Ollivander, and Sylar had the pleasure of repeated the whole damn thing again. The man was infuriatingly like his old self, and Sylar couldn't help but respect that, a little. Still, he was nearly ready to crush the man's skull when he finally received his 13" yew with the dragon heartstring core.

It crackled with power, and he'd been excited, but after three hours of doing practically nothing with it, he was bored.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he repeated, and the paper twitched yet again. He flung the wand down and twitched his finger- the piece of paper jumped up and folded itself into a paper airplane, then ripped itself into confetti.

"This is useless," he said to no one, scowling. Why did he even bother taking her brain? He could already do all of this. He sighed and picked the wand off the floor, then flipped through pages of the book he'd gotten down the street from the wandmakers'. No mention of the first thing he'd seen her do. But he did remember it.

There was a bird outside his window, sitting on the windowsill. He didn't open it, merely pointed at it and said levelly, "Crucio." The effect was immediate, as the finch curled unnaturally into itself, letting out a loud noise that shouldn't be possible from such a tiny thing.

Sylar smiled and watched for a moment before finally letting go. So that was it- he'd merely been trying spells that were too easy.

That was easy to fix.

It hadn't taken long to find a condo that was being used as a 'winter home'- the community itself was about three miles from Zane's tiny apartment. He'd only be using it for a couple days (and only seriously for a couple hours), so why worry terribly much about it? He sets up in a condo that could be considered modern chic, although he honestly doesn't have an eye for style. But the sharp black lines of the furniture and the severity in the angles of shelves and furniture- differentiated by the occasional bright splotches of accent, reds and blues- it all appeals to him.

He sends out his message and he waits. His drawing of Terra displayed him happily sawing off her head, while she screamed on. It's really too bad he didn't actually paint this- he thinks her blood will look stunning in here. No matter. He'll have the real thing soon enough.

Terra? Hey, you free now? I think I've finally got everything cleaned up enough for company- the timing on this may just work.

This is gonna be so much fun.

The second drawing showed her face very clearly- a beautiful blonde with delicate features and a face creased from worry, and ending abruptly the way all the pictures do- a sudden cut and a hole where the rest of her head should be. Her eyes stare unseeing upwards.

It should be a fairly standard extraction, if there ever was such a thing. Considering the detail in her face, it shouldn't be too difficult to recognize her. So after a few minutes of indulging himself with his new ability- flying across the country and back- he heads back into the Nexus. He flips through his drawings while he waits.

It doesn't take long. Within the hour, he sees the exact same woman passing through. Pretending to still be interested in the drawings, he listens out for her actions.

Once he'd found the right world- and a quick look inside an internet cafe told him he had- the rest was easy. Sylar merely had to give his PINpoint the coordinates of the Petrelli household in Hyde Park, and- there he was. He'd been placed right outside the back door, and it was the middle of the day. No alarms were set now; the sound of the two boys playing out on the lawn makes him especially sure. He opens the door and steps inside.

"Who are you?!" The feminine voice is commanding, aristocratic- obnoxious. She rushes forward, not giving him a chance to reply as she grabs his phone out of his hands and begins dialing, angry. She doesn't give him a chance to explain, but that's all right- he is so, so tired of presenting new faces to people. He flicks his hand and she slams into the wall, It just happens to be the right angle to break her neck; she crumples in a heap, gurgling. He smiles and continues on, not bothering to pick up his PINpoint.

"Ma, what in the hell-?" Ah, now there's the voice he wanted to hear. Nathan Petrelli stands in the doorway, his face frozen in angry disbelief at the scene of his mother before him. Sylar smiles at him, and the politician flies backwards through the hallway, slamming into the expensive wood covering the walls. It knocks the breath out of him.

"Hello, Congressman," Sylar says quietly, his deep voice resonating in that odd way he's gotten so fond of using. The man's eyes flicker towards the back door, and Sylar follows them. Ah, the children. "Don't worry, they're taken care of. Just one more thing to do, and then I'll be out of your hair."

He raises his hand and points a finger at Nathan's head. Every one of them was different- Nathan stares at Sylar the entire time, angry. He doesn't yell- he does try to move, but of course Sylar won't allow that. When the blood loss finally becomes too much, the pointed stare dulls into a dead gaze. Sylar had stopped smiling by this point. It's annoying- no fear at all is almost unheard of.

He lets the body fall to the floor. The skullcap rolls away down the hall, forgotten. Sylar kneels down over the man's head, ready to begin. Pretty soon, he'll be able to fly. It's not the most important power there's ever been, but he'll be immensely happy to have it.

Peter, thanks.

And thanks to you, too, Terra, for the encouragement. I really appreciated that. Guess I didn't explode after all.

Sylar hadn't been sleeping, but he woke up just the same. The bad dream that had been his unending struggle with Peter's powers was now suddenly gone, as everything snapped into place again. He took a deep breath and papers went flying. The large pane of glass in the bathroom shattered, and he slowly stood, walking towards it. The pieces swirled in the air and slowed to a stop as he neared them. Every piece was small, rectangular, and exactly the same size. Sylar laid the pieces out together on the threadbare carpet, putting it together again like a puzzle.

Sylar couldn't help it- he started laughing. He'd never been so grateful for real control. He wondered if Peter ever tested the limits.

When he was done playing with the mirror, he looked around the hotel room. It was in Wyoming, the only place for miles other than the gas station on the other corner. He hated the manager and that's why he decided to stay here. Well, that and the fact that he randomly ended up here. All those papers he'd tossed into the air now littered the bed, the nightstands, the floor around it. He had thought they were blank, but all of them were full of pictures, drawn in ink and heavily shaded.

He eagerly gathers them, flipping through them to see if anything new about the future would reveal itself. He knew that it wasn't always right, now. The explosion didn't happen, Claire's death (regrettably) didn't happen, but almost everything else was very accurate.

His eyes widen on about the tenth page in.

Oh, yes. Maybe not everything was exactly the same- he wouldn't make the mistake of collecting Peter's power, not unless he obtained some more useful information- but things were finally back to the way they should be.

This wasn't nearly as isolated an area as he would have liked, a large field next to a neighborhood. But he felt too dizzy to walk now, and every time he used the Japanese man's power, he felt a little more unhinged. His hands would glow for longer and longer intervals of time. He did his best to hold it in, but he kept thinking of Peter and how desparate he had looked. Sylar never wanted to feel that way.

His PINpoint hadn't worked correctly since the switch. He wondered why, and if he still had his ability, he'd know. But he doesn't, and trying to figure it out now was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

He sits, hugging his legs, in the center of a patch of dead grass. He expects Petrelli to kill him when he gets here. He's not sure he hates the idea.

Peter.

You should have done it, you should have fixed this. Of course, you wanted me to suffer; that's understandable. But I still wish-

shut up Shut UP I don't want to hear about your day selling used cars or how you wish he'd notice you at work or how no one understands your pain. No one wants to, it's BORING. Why can't I make them quiet?

My hands keep glowing. You'd think that would be an issue but it's just the way it's been I'm surprised the laptop still works.

Are you laughing now? You should be. Get it in before I'm dead. Before everyones dead, just like you were worried about the first time

I lie. I left Manhattan as soon as this started. Don't want to follow in your footsteps- guess I'm not deluding myself there, eh? I don't even know where I am now, or which world.

I don't think I have long. Good luck with it, Pete. You can use it for more than people- you know that, right? You

So, Peter and Sylar have switched powers, thanks to this post. Sylar has everything Peter's absorbed, and Pete's got everything Sylar's cut out of people. The abilities themselves are quite different and they're both having some trouble adjusting.

( So they head to the Sanctuary. )


( Things are going somewhat all right, but then Hiro shows up. )

( They take the fight to the arena, where Sylar continues to prod both Peter and Hiro. )

( After much screaming, yelling, and crashing things, Supergirl appears and breaks things up. )

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( See makes_me_tick's results. )

Sylar had waited too long, he knew. Claire had been waiting there, practically asking to have her brain taken for weeks now. But this was a good time. Before the bruises were completely gone..

Peter's been quiet, and so has he. He seethes when he thinks about how they just left him there, as if he were never a threat. Even injured, even severely drugged, he was a threat. That had bothered him more than anything else the past few days.

Well, this should fix that. He called Claire with a frantic message from 'Zane', requesting that she contact him. Now all he has to do is wait. He sits in a coffee shop in Albany next to their designated coordinates. There's a smile on his face.

( Sylar should really learn to plan his assaults... )

The first thing Sylar did when he woke up was to ready another explosion. It was only when the confusion cleared that he realized he was alone in the arena. Why....why would they do that? No interrogation, no death threats, nothing but annoying webbing surrounding him. He stares at it intensely and it splits, slowly pushing apart. He stands, brushing himself off and wincing at the new bruises. Damn, and he really thought this would cheer him up, too.

Hey, I forgot I had one of these.

Well, this was going to be where I was storing info about touring with Godsend, but that's on indefinite hiatus. It's my fault, really- I've got a particular problem that came up and everyone decided to wait until I could take care of it. It shouldn't be too much longer now.

Anyway, I found a new hang-out spot that seems pretty cool. If anyone sees this from the nexus, I just want to say 'hi'. It's Zane, obviously.

-or maybe not. Look, guys, if you see someone there that looks like me but isn't acting like me- stay away from him, please? That's Sylar, and I'm not sure about this whole parallel dimension stuff yet, but he's a very bad guy.

Well, time to spend another day practicing. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll even be able to keep my amp on today.

He swayed as they appeared in the alley next to the restaurant. For some reason, PINpointing from the Nexus seemed to throw off his new homing sense more than moving within the universe. He supposes it's a farther 'distance', or that it's just harder to comprehend, but whatever it is makes him about ready to fall over and pass out.

New abilities could be really annoying sometimes, but he's already getting used to it. He presses fingers to the spot over his nose, trying his hardest to get the uncomfortable pressing feeling to go away, and for the dizziness to pass. He pulls the two of them to the nearest wall, so they can lean against it. "You weren't kidding about the pressure."

The ugly wallpaper was still just the same. The same old, frayed furniture sat in it's assigned spots in the living room and the double helix figure was back on the desk. It was like he never left at all. So many pages are littered over every surface- he wondered if the fight he'd had with Peter had ever been noticeable.

Well, of course it was. The board had come down then, after all.

He'd waited until he saw Mohinder leave the building to PINpoint in. The action had given him nausea he hadn't felt before- the downside to any new power was figuring out how to control it. But it had passed quickly and left him free to make himself comfortable. He picked through the papers, fluttering them in front of his face, then sweeping them away when they had no immediately useful information.

They weren't the reason he was here. He was, in fact, here to leave something. A present, of sorts.

He set the small humming object on the tiny kitchen counter, right next to the stove. Despite adding to the clutter of the room, it seemed out of place among the cereal boxes and the mugs. It shouldn't take him very long at all to find it. Sylar smiled.

He walked out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked. And he waited.

Dust swirls in the open air of the loft, the air conditioner working hard to cool the empty space.

The dead man had been cleaned up, hauled away. The top of his head had been taken for analysis, along with the rest of him. Otherwise, everything had been left completely unchanged. The paintings are all still there, arranged haphazardly.

Suddenly, empty space is filled. There are two people standing there. The tall man stares at an open cell phone, smiling at it. He holds the hand of a very small woman- Madeline- whom he's just recently met. "I know it's disorienting. I just found out about these things. They're called Pinpoints."

He could kill her right now. He wants to- the twang of completely broken pieces within her is almost intolerable. But he wants to know more about her ability. He'd like to know how it fits her, so he needs to study her just a bit longer. "Do you want to sit down? Would you like something to drink?"

He wonders just how disorienting the PINpoint was for her.

Hey, guys! I figured an out of character post might be a good idea, just to let you know what I'm doing/where I'm going/what I'm thinking with Sylar here. Usually, I let it come out in narrative, but Sylar is so powerful and so intent on doing various horrible things that a bit of planning might be in order.

First off! Sylar is evil. Yes, yes he is. There are a lot of issues that contribute to this, but the biggest and easiest one is just that he's totally insane. He wants power and he wants to be the most special and he doesn't care what he has to do to accomplish that. Revenge would also be nice, but is not his ultimate goal.

Sylar also now has a PINpoint. This is not a good thing. If people figure this out, feel free to take it from him. ...and the second and third ones he has as backups. >_> Everything he gets he uses to his full advantage.

Third! He is likely going to try and steal Claire's power again at some point. Obviously, Claire needs her brains for living, but it could make for good plot somewhere along the line, if people are willing? Could make for maybe a good fight? I'd be all for something like that.

I am also not a person who cares if their character dies, so if it comes to that in a fight, feel free to hurt/maim/kill the guy. As long as it makes sense, I'm all for it. The more dramatic, the better. ;-)

At the moment, Sylar plans on using the Nexus to his full advantage. This means watching for other 'special' people, hiding, keeping an eye on the Petrellis and on Molly...you know, all that good stuff.

Finally, do not worry overmuch at some of the things Sylar says. He cannot do everything, he just likes to think he can. Some of the things Sylar cannot do:
-'Feel' other powered people.
-Tell what a person's emotions are by listening to their heartbeat (he can tell 'lying' and 'fear' some of the time and that's it)
-Concentrate on moving more than two things in completely separate ways at one time.
-Remember everyone on The List (I'm assuming Mohinder didn't show him the whole thing).
-Read minds.
-Use Eden's power of 'persuasion' (not matter how deep or resonating he makes his voice- he just thinks it's creepy)

Hmmm, what else? If there's anything you'd like to suggest for me to do with him, please feel free to poke me here! And of course, if there are any questions or concerns, feel free to ask! If you'd rather not reach me here, I'm also at Eliada[at]gmaildotcom, or Townshend302 on AIM.

He flips the phone open. He flips it shut. He hits the button on the side.

He smiles as the scene around him changes, as the skyscrapers disappear and mountains take their place.



He flips the phone open again. A simple menu navigation later and he's in London. One more and he's in Tokyo. He smiles at the classful of schoolgirls that pass him, all looking up with wide eyes, as if he were a giant.

He feels like a giant.



One last location. An address he'd never forget in Odessa, Texas. He stands in front of the Bennet's old home. Of course they wouldn't be in it anymore- they'd have moved to a safer location long ago. But all he needs is an address. One more address, and then he could take his time with the others. Suresh or Molly- one or the both of them would make the rest of his goals a snap.

Mohinder has been absent, but the others....they've all been in the Nexus- he's seen them. Especially the Petrellis, with their brand new member of the family. He wondered at how much it seemed to mean to them, this blood relation that they'd had no knowledge of before. He wondered how much it meant to the man in the horn-rimmed glasses.

He did so hope he would get a chance to find out.

He toys with the phone function, but he knows he should leave it. As much as he'd like to give Mohinder a call from someplace off-world, a formal mockery of last time they talked- as much as he'd like to call the Petrellis and tell them he'd be dropping in soon- it'd be much better if it were a surprise, wouldn't it?

Yes.

The Nexus is a wonderful place, Sylar decides as he walks down Juniper Lane. It not only mended his wounds, it gave him the power of that little asian man who'd caused him so much trouble. All that power, in a tiny little box. No questions were asked, and no payment was required.

Maybe he'd stop by the Burnt Toast Diner before heading back 'home'. They had excellent eggs.

You've reached Zane Taylor's journal. But don't expect a reply here- he's a little busy being deceased. Don't worry, I kept the useful parts.

If you'd like to talk to Sylar, I'm listening. I'm also alive and well, for those of you that keep track of that sort of thing.

And I'm definitely not done yet.

Hi, you've reached the livejournal of Zane Taylor, lead guitarist for Godsend.

We haven't gotten the website set up quite yet, but if you give me an idea of what you'd like to see, we'll be sure to include it! We're thinking of maybe streaming our music on there instead of MySpace- too many people over there. We need our own venue, don't you think?

Keep an eye here for more details, and thanks for listening to Godsend.