A/N: Don't own Heroes, wish I did! Also, this is just a oneshot, not ties with story. First Heroes Fic. R/R please!


The diner was quaint, cozy, and very 90's. He felt like he was in an episode of one of those family sitcoms where friends gathered to discuss trivial issues like falafels and coffee. The atmosphere was thick with nothingness as people shuffled in and out, going about the meager lives. And, even as he watched from a corner booth in the back of the restaurant, he could sense that none of them would quite understand the craving and thirst that was rising up in him as he watched his new prey walked in to start her shift.

She walked in and greeted her fellow co-workers. Her short dark hair must have been a new thing, with the surprised exclamations given to her from her friends. They all seemed so clueless as to what would happen in mere minutes. She disappeared into the back of the kitchen, but shortly reappeared in her uniform. Her average frame looked almost pathetic when he though of the power he held in hands and in his mind.

"How are you this evening," she had made her way over to him whilst in his thoughts, "Can I start you off with some coffee?" She was cheerful as if she was happy to be here, to be working at this God-awful place. But, something about her voice threw him off his mission. "Sir," she continued, "would you like something to drink?"

"Coffee," was all he could say. Her voice, kind of captivating, but in the same tone, kind of ordinary. She walked away to get his coffee and was back before he could fully understand the feeling that had just washed over him. "Here you are," she sat the cup down and began to pour, "Are you ready to order?" he looked up into her eyes and when he caught her gaze, he felt that rushing, warm feeling again. "Not yet," his voice had gone up a pitch, as if he caught the happy bug she had when she first talked to him.

"Okay, well, I'll check on you in a bit, okay."

"Okay," he was still trapped in her glee, and couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on in his mind, and why after countless meetings with what some would call "evolved humans" he could not make himself acquire the gift from her that he desired.

He sat a moment longer letting the effect of her presence wear off. He looked down at his list. The last of the four he was to encounter. This shouldn't be so hard, he thought to himself. Just resist it.

His mind ventured to another time when Eden McCain tried to use her ability of vocal persuasion to entice him to kill himself. That backfired, he thought, and smiled at the thought of a lesser human trying to thwart him.

"You ready to order yet," she walked over to him again, and again this overwhelming feeling of glee and affection came over him. As he looked in her eyes, and tried to resist the burst of emotion, he realized that she had no idea she was having this effect on him. "Are you okay, sir?" She asked as he continued to look into her and through her.

"You don't know what you are, do you?" Sylar asked as he could feel himself pull free of his sudden lack of emotional control.

She stood puzzled at him, "What do you mean?"

He smiled at her, again feeling the burst of affection flow through him. He let it this time, only to feel it fully as opposed to half resisting as he had the first few times she spoke. He let it consume him.

"What did you mean by that," she said sounding interested that he might know something about her that she didn't. Or that he might share a connection with her.

"You're not aware of the power you possess," he began, taunting her underneath his comment, luring her in to his confidence and trust. "You are gifted."

She stood shocked that someone knew. He could sense that she knew she was special, but didn't know how to express it others.

"How did you know?" She asked with a sense of relief, as if she could finally relate to someone who would understand.

He took a sip of his coffee, and continued to ingest her ability. He was having fun, as always. Usually not one for taunting and prolonging the deed, but her naivety was amusing.

"Do you get off soon?" He asked as she stood still in awe of his presence.

"Yeah, in like 8 hours," she chuckled at his question as he knew she had just started her shift. "But, I get a break in between," she began, "I can totally talk then."

He smiled again at her, took another sip, "I'd like that."

He had been sitting for almost thirty minutes when he realized how asinine he was being—waiting like a fool for her to finish. He decided if this was going to happen, he had to do something.

He stood to leave, threw some money on the table, and began walking towards the door. She came out of the kitchen with peoples' orders. She saw that he was leaving and motioned for him to stay a minute. But, he continued out the door, as if he hadn't seen her gesture.

"Sorry, it's crazy tonight," she said as she walked out to meet him walking towards the back of the diner. He stood watching her light a cigarette. That feeling washed over him again, this time it was bittersweet as he knew the next few minutes would be painful—for her.

"How does it work?" Sylar asked as she stood in the dark, puffing on her cigarette.

"I'm not really sure," she said with an almost girly excitement that she could tell someone, " all I know is that when I talk, guys fall for me." That was the feeling, like he was falling for her. Pretty useless he thought, but maybe not.

"Only guys," he pursued the issue further.

"Well," she got a bit embarrassed, "I'm not a lesbian, just so you know, but yeah it works on girls too."

He nodded, for show, to emphasize that he was listening.

"What do you do?" She perked up again, ready to see what ability he could produce.

His sly smile personified what was brooding behind it, and she couldn't make heads or tails of why he looked at her like that.

"You can just show me," she started, "if you don't want to say it." Her persuasion was stronger this time, as if she was willing herself to use it. Not like the other times, when she just talked and a mild rush fell over him. This time, he felt an overload of not just affection, but lust. She was walking over to him. Her eyes meeting with his, "You're kind of cute, by the way."

Not being able to shake it so easily this time, he felt his mind give way to his body. She got nearer and whispered in his ear, "I can get off earlier if you want to skip this joint." And, amidst the overwhelming tingling in his crotch and body, he had to chuckle at the absurdity of the moment. She threw her arms around him, and leaned in to kiss him. Her lips were soft, but she tasted like menthol and tar.

As she pulled away, "That's sort of how it works."

He felt a jolt, as if a part of him had been shocked back to reality. He tilted his head, and found himself rather amused at the fact that she could turn in up like that. She smiled at his reaction, "Yeah, most guys think it's cool, even though they don't know how I do it!" She giggled.

He had had enough with this game. He still felt as if her ability was useless, but you've got to tame the beast somehow.

"So, how does—" she began, but he had pinned her to the wall. The look of terror and alarm in her eyes was something he never tired of in his victims.

"What are you doing?" He allowed her that last question, and he allowed that warm feeling to infiltrate his body again, just to feel it. And when she tried to speak again, she telepathically choked her.

As he began to slice into her skull, and as the thick, red blood ran down her face, he could see that life was slowly slipping away from her. She looked directly at him, as if to question his motive. Maybe even to make a plea for her life.

And after she'd slid to the ground, and he perused her brain to find out her secret, he smiled over her, "You were kind of cute too." The petty thought amused him, and he was on his way.