Okay--here's my speech: I do not own any of these charactors--besides the ones youv'e never heard of in heroes --okay? everything belongs to Mr. Kring--the most amazing person ever-who created Nathan Petrelli--my sexy flying man. XD SO here's what happens when Sylar has a family--a sister and someone he loves XD. He still has a soft side and psycopathic side--and will try to murder someone who gets a bit TOO attatched to his sister.

This story is told in his SISTER'S point of view hope you love the name!All they charactors you've never heard of in this story, belong to me!! (with some exceptions such as: Liam ( I took him from 90210!) and MORE, which I will alert to you!

~Our Notion~

*Who do you choose when you can't live without either?*

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the alley, I sighed as the air intoxicated my every sense.

Straightening my slim jeans and halter top, I stepped into the limo that I had called earlier; slipping my BlackBerry into my pocket.

"Samuels," I whispered as I closed the door.

"Ms. Gray," Samuels nodded to me.

"Vasanti," a dark, cold voice muttered beside me, sending chills up my spine.

"Sylar," I scoffed. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be beating up The Solitudes?"

"Nope, no need," Sylar chuckled, leaning onto his knees, smirking at me.

Sylar is my older brother; he's the brother all guys have been warned about. He'll beat the crap out of you if you're trying to put some sly moves on me, which is kind of funny. Being part of The Villias (a very scary name indeed! I'm shaking in my shoes! It's short for The Villains), makes him very different from me, but we have almost the same looks.

He has the cropped dark-brown hair and dangerous golden brown eyes, just like I do.

My hair is fairly long, a dark brown with golden highlights and my eyes are a shy, golden-brown, with a tint of blue on the edges.

Being 16 and all, Sylar can be a huge worry-wart although he has the big build of a wrestler, and dropped out of high school just to raise his sister, who is only three years younger than him after mom and dad died.

"You're such a freak," I muttered under my breath, sliding my feet over the seat, laying my head down to press my burning cheeks onto the cool, sleek leather seats.

"How's school? The after-school club?" Sylar questioned, tapping his chucks onto the floor.

"Hmm . . ." I grunted. "My teachers emphasize too much. The after-school club is starting to get boring. I finished my homework in less than fifteen minutes."

"They're all solitudes, that's why," Sylar muttered, flicking his wrist, flinging a gum wrapper to me. "Low life thugs, the beggars. Then there's the ones who think that their higher than others."

I nodded and closed my eyes, hiding my eyes as my hair crossed in front of my face. I felt the pressure beside my leg as he sat down on the seat next to me, brushing his hand across my face, swiping away the strands of hair, pressing his thin, fine lips to my cheek.

I winced as I pushed my power to my cheek as he inched away, his lips turning a light purple, then blue as the wring of ice consumed his body, suddenly frozen in a few seconds.

Smirking, I licked the outside of my lip in accomplishment as he broke loose from the ice.

"You're such a perv," I muttered. "What kind of Villia kisses his sister?"

He pressed his finger against my forehead, laughing as the water dripped down his chin.

"If we weren't related somehow, you'd be frozen stiff," I grumbled.

"If we weren't related as brother and sister, you'd be dead," Sylar retorted.

So, we admit, we have the 'extraordinary' powers that we use for our own purposes. Many of us in this city have a certain power they are bonded to, but the big reason that my brother hates The Solitudes so much, is because most of them have this . . . power that they use to show off if they're rich, to make people think their superheroes.

The poorer people, thugs, or beggars, use their power to live on a daily basis, making people give them jobs, food, money; controlling them and threatening them.

"They use their power to show off they way they control things here. To make people think they're superheroes."

Sylar had told me one day after I had control over my body and power, teaching me so I wouldn't be like The Solitudes one day.

My power was the reason my mother died. I know it. Only brothers and sisters—like us—have the genes that protect them from each other, but not our parents.

I had killed my mother when I'd gotten fussy when I was just born, freezing her into an icicle. My father had to steal me out of the hospital before they found out and a few years later, my father died of lymphoma.

On the last days of his life, he taught Sylar, only seven years old at the time, to fend and watch out for me; literally because I could freeze everything I could lay my hands on.

By now, you must know that my power is freezing things; but it's not.

I have the power of water.

I'm able to flood places with a touch, have boiling water sprout from my hands, and freeze things with a single touch. But boiling water and flooding is for more advanced placement and I'm still working on those two.

Sylar has a power too. I don't consider it a power, but it's his ability—or want. He has the ability to take other powers and use any of them when needed, by nearly killing the person.

He said that one day he's going to take my power and he'll try to stop. The thought still gives me the chills when I think about it, even though I know I'm going to join The Villias pretty soon.

"V," Sylar yelled, shaking my shoulders violently, picking me up as he stepped out of the car, setting my feet on the ground.

I stumbled, trying to keep my drowsiness to myself, picking myself up from my sleepy state as Sylar came beside me with my backpack.

"Thanks Samuels," I tried to sound sober, because I felt as if I was drunk.

Stepping around the healthy green lawn, trying not to fall over as I dodged the small fountain in the middle of the round-about of our driveway, I leaned on Sylar, clutching his arm so I wouldn't collapse. When we finally got to the door, I cranked the door open to our mansion as Samuels drove into the garage.

"How'd we manage to get rich and stay rich from your job?" I whispered, throwing my shoes of as I stumbled into the living room, plopping onto the couch, closing my eyes.

The living room was large and had only two sofas with a glass table in the middle, the stairs about 20 feet away from it, spiraling up, but Samuels and Mia got the two rooms downstairs while Sylar and I got the rooms upstairs, Sylar's room two doors away from mine. The large patio outside leads into the gardens with our maze, letting in a lot of light so we wouldn't use so much electricity.

"It's just the way I work," Sylar laughed, echoing off the walls. "Mia! Some champagne please!"

"Ugh . . ." I grumbled. "I need some."

I sat up, just as the doorbell rang and my head snapped around to smirk at Sylar.

"Hmm . . ." I tried to hide my sarcasm as much as I could. "I wonder who that could be?"

"Shut up," Sylar muttered, taking a step and suddenly appearing at the door, which was 20 yards away.

Speed. One of his many talents that he 'has'.

"Hey Ashley," I called, grabbing a glass of champagne from Mia, setting the glasses and large bottles onto the spotless table.

"Vasanti," she smirked at me, sitting across from me with Sylar, hand in hand. "How are you?"

"Tired, but . . . fine," I said, taking a sip out of my glass, the burning sensation soothing my parched throat.

Ashley Berkof was a quiet girl who Sylar had fallen for at the instant his eyes laid on her because of some weird reason. She has short, dark brown hair and beautiful, flawless brown eyes with a golden crown. She was as tall as Sylar, and they held hands a lot, which made me the one who felt awkward.

Ashley had no ability though, so Sylar was more relaxed around her, not having the urge to take her power; along with her life.

"Well . . ." I smiled, showing my perfectly straight teeth. "Sylar, take me to my room please?"

He shook his head as I looked up at him, setting my glass down as he kissed her forehead, making me feel really discomfited now. His hand jerked around with an unseen force, sending me, with my backpack in hand—full speed—up the spiraling flight of stairs and into my room; the door slamming against my back as I toppled to the floor.

Leaping on my bed, I laughed, flipping on the small, hand-held T.V. I had on my bed. My room is a bright yellow color, a portrait of an ice castle right across from my bed so I can stare at it when I go to sleep.

My orange covers of my bed matched my room, so bright and open. My dark red drapes on the window of my balcony didn't really match, but I liked the blood red color of them. The thing I liked the most, was my mother's lamp, it was a deep yellow color with orange polka dots on it.

"Our nation was divided, but now, it has united, as one!" The senator of our Northern Colonies yelled (North America is old news, especially after we lost the Iraq war. So long U.S.A., buh-bye!)

The senator rejoiced with his fist in the air, his suit with a tie the color of the sunset red made no difference in his speech, or the world, if I could help it. His good looks didn't matter in politics, only if he wanted to be a firefighter, like every person his age would do to serve the country.

I couldn't believe they would let a 25-year-old be a senator of such a large country like the Northern Colonies.

His short, gelled back hair gleamed in the light as the cameras flashed, the golden-hazel-honey eyes iridescent with excitement, his smile piercing everywhere, trying to satisfy the countries' thirst for his smile, laying one on the camera that was taping this session.

"Fake," I rolled my eyes.

That was him.

Senator Petrelli.

Senator Petrelli these days was almost as special as the president, which didn't really add up so much.

Senator Nathan Petrelli.

He had a million brothers scattered around the Northern Colonies, and it wasn't hard to guess that they were all Solitudes.

My phone suddenly vibrated violently in my pocket, the tune dancing playfully as my polished fingernails pressed a button, answering.

"Sarah," I said in a sweet voice. "What's hot?"

"Tonight, a party at the garage downtown," Sarah had a begging sound to her voice. "C'mon, let's go. Liz will be there too."

"Umm . . ." I whispered. "He might be a bit busy tonight. Maybe I should go out for a bit."

"Busy eh?" Sarah giggled along with me.

"Just wait a second," I said.

I stepped out of the door, ready to slide down the railing, but stopped dead in my tracks. I think it'd be best if I just holler.

"Sylar!" I shouted, clearly, it was loud enough for him to hear. "I'm going to a party in a few hours!"

There was a silence, loud enough for someone to go insane, but suddenly, all the doors started slamming to catch my attention, open and closed. His door flew open and closed three times.

One slam meant: no way.

Two slams meant: yes.

Three slams meant: I'll see you before you leave.

Four slams meant: you're grounded if you try to bribe me.

I smiled as I shrunk back into my room, tearing my walk in closet door open, taking a deep breath of the amazing smell of clothes. I pressed a button for my party clothes and a door opened, exposing a closet full of dresses and accessories.

My fingers ran along the fine cloths, waiting for a fabric that felt good along my fingers. My hand stopped at a fabric that seemed to be a short pattern along the rims.

Pulling it out and examining the neon-blue dress, I pressed it against my body, trying to see if it would work. It slimmed at the chest and waist, then flared out to the knees.

"I might as well try it on," I muttered, smirking.

There was a tied pattern down the side of the dress, running down my hips, almost like a corset and the strap ran across my chest, wrapping around my bicep.

Twirling, I looked at myself in the mirror. Stunning. The bottom part of my dress swished against my legs, making me feel amazing as I stepped into a pair of silver flats with a bow on the ends.

I clasped a single bangle onto my right wrist, the silver metal inscribed in small lettering that I hadn't noticed before.

Find who you are inside, without losing others.

I closed my closet with a single button, stepping out the doors as Mia was cleaning up my room, which was almost spotless.

"Thanks for plugging in my hair-straightener," I smiled, tapping her shoulder. "You can have a break; if he starts anything—I'm sure he won't—you just tell him Ms. Gray said you could take a break. Where is he now?"

"Showing Ms. Berkof the gardens, ma'am," Mia whispered.

"Ah," I smiled, 'gardens' also meant making out in the maze. "You may have your break now."

"Thank you, Ms. Gray," Mia nodded, stepping out of the room. "Don't forget to turn off the straightener after you're done; it's been on for quite some time."

I nodded, combing my hair through, and then threaded my hair through the straightener, trying not to burn my hair.

***

A few hours later, I stepped out of my room, my eyes lightly drawn with eyeliner and eye shadow, my lips glossed with a shimmering clear gloss.

"Vasanti," Sylar whispered as I stepped out on the first floor.

I scowled at him sheepishly as Sylar stepped up to me with his hands looped with Ashley's, smiling at me.

Double blinking for a few seconds, I tried to decipher their thoughts as I tilted my head. I finally gave up after a few seconds of confusion, throwing my hands up in defeat.

"What?" I cried.

"You look . . . nice . . ." he muttered, his hands flying up and down my dress. "Beautiful to be exact."

"Whatever. May I leave now?" I grumbled, dancing towards the door.

Sylar nodded, wrapping a hand around Ashley and pressing his lips to her hair and gliding away from her. I turned around and shook my head frantically, pressing my hands for him to stop.

"No, Sylar," I whispered. "Stay. Here. I'll have Samuels take me down."

"Don't let Sarah kill you," Sylar glared at me. "I'm serious now."

"Yes, yes, yes," I scoffed.

Pulling the door open, I again, stepped into the blinding light, greeted with the engine of Samuels' car.

"Thank you, Samuels," I said, climbing into the limo, his window partly open. "You must be tired."

"It's a pleasure to serve you, Ms. Gray," Samuels nodded to me with his hazel-green eyes, his almost-silver hair short as he grew older. "My hearing is always going to improve if I practice."

I nodded in understanding. Samuels may be old, but his ability made him unique in our household. He could hear from miles away, and know where we needed to go before we even asked him. It was difficult to have a person with an ability in the house we lived in, but Sylar had promised he wouldn't kill Samuels . . . yet.

***

We stopped outside the club, the garage doors seeming to shake with momentum from the music. Samuels winced, eyebrows rising.

"I can't believe this is how you young'uns spend your time," Samuels grumbled.

"Samuels," I laughed "this is a place where everyone can be one, and we're all different in a special way. It's where we can b e whoever we want."

"Well then," Samuels said. "I may have misjudged you, Ms. Gray."

"I'll call you when I need you," I stopped. "Great. I forgot my cell."

"I can't hear you from home, but try to give a call," he whispered. "G'day, Ms. Gray."

I stepped out of the car, the wind slapping against my knees. I smirked as I opened the door of the club, the warm, welcoming air rushing to greet me.

The lights flew by, spinning around the room as bodies moved in sync. The Solitudes with Solitudes and Villias with Villias, none of them mixed together.

People who were drinking by the counter in the front of the club looked up to stare at me, their lips a faint red, dripping with liquid as the disco lights flew around. The Solitudes really did look like thugs, their black leather jackets and cold stares towards a sister of a Villia.

Sarah and Liz jumped next to me, Sarah's hands flickering with her fire power towards me. Her dark, golden brown hair was in a ponytail, her beautiful brown eyes with a flickering fire around her pupils. She was in a pair of skinny jeans, her t-shirt with a print that seemed to hug her. Sarah and Liz were both 17-years-old, a year older than me, but we still hung out together like sisters.

Liz had the power of controlling the weather, and her brown roots with blonde, really stuck out as the lights reflected off of her hair, her light blue eyes gleaming.

Liz was just a special person like that. Controlling the weather could put all the meteorologists in the world out of a job. The weather portrayed to her moods and what she wanted the weather to be. When she didn't really care, she let Mother Nature take care of it, but when she was mad, she'd work up a massive thunder storm, severe winds and large hail that slammed against the entire Northern Colonies. If she was furious, she could conjure up tsunamis, tornadoes and hurricanes also.

When she was scared, there was fog, the thicker it was, the more scared she was. When she was happy, there was a bright sun, gleaming in the morning and the dew was visible beautifully. When she was sad, it was nearly heartbreaking because rain pattered lightly on buildings like tears.

Sarah flipped her wrist and I stopped her as she was about to throw it on the ground.

"Sylar says he'll kill you if we do that again," I warned, my gloss shimmering as my eyes stayed put, only my mouth moving.

Our last attempt to make frozen fire, wanting to see the neon blue flaring like in a fantasy was a bad idea for our first time.

Combining powers had happened only once before; a million years ago when our kind was created, but they were the founders of The Solitudes group. One person had a power of the sun, and another who had a power of the moon; when they had combined their powers, they created a sunset.

The last time we tried to create a frozen fire, we nearly killed each other. Sarah was the one who started to freeze, her fingers drained of blood and I was the one who burned up and fell down before we could know what happened.

Sylar had to throw me on the ground over and over, hitting my head and shove water down my throat for me to escape my unconscious state.

"Well, I must not mess with that then," Sarah smirked at me, looking over her shoulder as a boy walked by, eyeing her playfully. "Oh, hey, it's Dal, the guy who's always getting in trouble. The bad boy."

His cheek lifted up, as if he was smiling and he swiped his dark black hair; looking back at her with his unusual color eyes of blue. He was always wearing black and he was kind of the ones who would be emo-ish.

"Sarah's going to go grab some trouble now," Liz laughed, leaning against me as Sarah stalked Dal. "Well, you have fun hun, I've got to go see Liam."

"Ah, you hooked up with the bartender?" I smiled at her as she waved to me, stalking away in her stunning green dress, wrapping around her body like silk and consuming her as she disappeared.

That wasn't good. If Sylar found out that Liz was dating a Solitude, he'd blow up. I couldn't believe I had to lie to my brother, but I loved Liz, she was my best friend; I couldn't lose her like this.

I stepped up to the counter, ordering anything that would make a spark go off in my body. The bartender, Arein poured the drink into a large cup, handing it to me and nodding, his dark brown curls falling over his face, hiding his gorgeous gray eyes.

"Hey, Vasanti," Arein laughed at my wincing face as I sipped the drink he gave me, the burning sensation hitting a spark inside of me. "Freeze the ice for me back here."

He gestured me towards the stainless steel freezer. I smirked, jumping off the counter and into the back, flinging open the freezer and pressing my lips to the side and backing up as the ice crackled, spreading throughout the freezer, the water crackling as it started to freeze.

I smacked my lips as I leapt over the counter to my seat again.

"Good enough for you?"

"Perfect."

Arein turned around to let me drink, taking another order. As I took a second sip, the spicy taste of the wine made my nerves jump as the acid ran down my parched throat, soothing. Within a few minutes, I had indulged the entire glass, setting the bottle on the counter, waiting for a refill.

"Arein, sparkling water please," a voice called beside me, the seat suddenly being occupied.

I turned to look at him, my eyes trying to wander, but I managed to see his features. He had dark, cold brown eyes and his hair was a brown that he could have only been born with, combed back, his bangs covering his face.

Peter Petrelli.

Great, a new friend to make.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be drinking?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "How old are you?"

"I'm 18," he said, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his 'sparkling water.' "You look younger."

"I'm 16 and I take things to my advantage," I growled.

He was getting to me, and I couldn't let him take over. I inched closer to him, my fingers about to go insane.

"Vasanti?" a familiar voice cried.

I turned around and nearly screamed.

"No way! Rachel!" I cried, jumping up to hug her. "How have you been?"

Rachel was my best friend in school, even though she was 2 years older than me; we did everything together, getting into the teacher's heads at school to search for answers or to make him think that we were working on our tests when we were really using our book to cheat. But after she became a Solitude when she exposed herself to the world, Sylar banned me from talking to her ever again. I haven't seen her around these parts since high school.

She had the power of manipulating and reading minds. Her short blonde hair and bangs crossed her face and her blue-gray eyes flickered as she ran through my mind, a pushing sensation running through my mind. She skimmed the faint memories of middle school, and I smiled.

She laughed, tapping me on the nose as she circled around Peter, her hand wrapping around him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Of course she would be with Peter. She was perfect with him, and nothing would dare to go between them. They were both Solitudes. I wonder what kind of love affair would happen if a Solitude fell for a Villia. I smiled as she read my thoughts, keeping her hysteria to herself.

"Yes, Peter is amazing," Rachel sighed. "Although he's three months younger than me."

Peter was a unique person. He was able to take a person's power with a single touch voluntarily, so he could keep a power for as long as he wanted to, but when he took another power, his power that he recently had, was dropped, meaning, he could only have one power—or ability—at a time.

He was normally the person who was flying everyday around town, but I remember one day when he had the power of reading the minds of a cashier at a store. He must have access to the flying power every other day.

"How about you?" Peter smiled at me after Rachel whispered my thoughts to him. "I could—"

"Hook me up," I growled. "No thank you."

My vision suddenly started to blur as I took another sip of the refilled drink, setting it on the table with a large thump. I was losing my capability to lift things.

"You're a pretty girl . . . a Villia to be exact . . . on the East-Central coast of the Northern Colonies," Peter observed. "You should be the one girl who's taken by someone who has . . . power."

"Like the president!" Rachel squealed.

"Yeah . . . he's what? 30 years older than me?" I jeered, shaking my head.

"I was thinking . . ." Peter started, and Rachel shut him up, throwing her hand over his mouth, her eyes darting somewhere as she whispered to him.

"Umm . . . bye . . . I've got to go," I muttered, stumbling off my chair as I hugged Rachel one last time. "I hope I'll see you around."

"I missed you," Rachel whispered, pulling out her cell phone. "Number?"

I typed in my number, taking a few seconds to try and decipher the numbers on the small keys.

"It was nice meeting you Peter," I waved as I inched closer to the dance floor.

My head snapped around as I heard Liz giggling, her dress draping to the floor as she crossed her legs, leaning on the table, conversing with Liam, who was way too spicy and hot for me to be with. He had short dark brown hair that was spiked up, that he flipped flirtatiously, and he was in a white t-shirt and khaki pants.

His hand was on Liz's and he whispered words to her that I couldn't understand. I couldn't see his eyes, but they seemed to be a bright hazel color, gleaming.

"I'm a healer," he whispered.

"Well then . . . can you heal my broken heart?" Liz smirked at her good comeback.

He laughed charmingly, his hand tracing up her arm towards her scar, tapping on it as it suddenly disappeared.

"I'm sure I could make that work . . ."

I groaned as my vision blurred slightly, just enough that I couldn't see what color his eyes were anymore, just blended together images.

"May I be of assistance, young lady?" a voice boomed behind me, making me jump. "A bit too much to drink?"

"Excuse me?" I said, slurring.

"Care to dance?"

"Whatever," I didn't know where the anger was coming from, it just started to spew out of me and I couldn't stop. "I need something to do here."

I waited for him to trace his perverted hands up my hips like everyone else, but he only took my fingers on both hands, lifting them up until it rested on his shoulder.

A sad, slow song went on; my head looked up for the person who was looking out for 'hooking up' couples.

"Liam," I muttered under my breath.

He was the one who was in charge of the music, his mind a music machine.

"Why do they do this?" I growled, swearing that I'd get my revenge.

He seemed to be shaking with laughter as he looked at me, my head laying on his shoulder as I started to slip into drowsiness. Something about him was familiar as I looked at him, from his shoulder. He seemed to have the features of Sylar, but he had a deep shape under his chin, seeming to a scab . . . or a scar. I couldn't believe I could actually see it, because it was such a light color, but it was the only thing I could see in this view.

"Name?" he asked, seeming to smile.

"Vasanti Gray."

I moved to the side, my dress brushing against his leg as I twirled around, stopping as I lay in his arms, looking up at him, trying to look at his eyes.

"Wow . . . Vasanti," he whispered. "You seem a bit young to be at a club."

"I'm 16," I muttered, hopefully for the last day today.

They let 17-year-olds come in; they should let 16-year-olds come in too!

"I have parental consent to be here."

My hair brushed against my face as I rapidly stood up, covering my face. His hand brushed against my face, his warm touch came along with a spark; which meant he had a power also. He brushed the hair behind my ear, my eyes trying to meet his, but I was drunk—or buzzed; I couldn't look into his eyes without my eyes wandering.

"Oh, do you?" he shook his head. "If you're 16 . . . then maybe I shouldn't be dancing with you."

My eyes drooped, and I gripped harder onto his shoulder, my nails just about to start digging into his skin, but he was wearing a type of rich cloth.

I took in a deep breath, and abruptly, my world nearly went crashing. I blinked a few times, trying to focus, just in case I was hallucinating. My head hung on his suit, about to fall off the edge. I breathed heavily on his neck, taking in the smell that was indescribable with all the words in the world.

I licked my lips, trying to moisten them as they started to go dry, and my world spinning; luckily—not crashing.

His smell was a strong one, as if he flew through the sky, catching clouds full of rich, luscious flavor, and buried them inside of him so he could have the scents.

It was like heaven's plateful of smells.

"Vasanti?" he called. "Are you . . ."

"I'm not fine, but who cares now?"

No use lying.

I smiled as he led me to a seat, setting me down before he sat down on a chair. My mind seemed to be high and off course today if he was scared that I was going to fall off my chair.

"So . . . what are you around here?" he questioned, a figure—his elbow?—leaned on the counter.

"My brother's a big part of The Villias," I warned, clenching my fist.

"Ah, interesting," he said, clearly not heeding my warning. "I'm a . . ."

He stopped as I inched closer to him, wanting him to shut up so badly. People didn't come to this club to talk about our differences, where we were from; we were here to show off, and this was my way I'd show off. I could see him a bit more clearly, still blurry though, but he hesitated, and then went for the kill.

The garage doors suddenly flew open, the music died as everyone turned to stare at . . . Sylar. I gasped, jumping from my seat as all my senses abruptly slammed back to me, jumping in front of the person.

I could not see everything clearly, but I didn't want to look back at the person or else Sylar would know . . . if he didn't' know already.

Peter lunged protectively for the person behind me as the crowd circled around us, spreading out for the showdown.

"Vasanti, we're leaving. Now." Sylar growled.

Sylar's shirt was partly undone, flying about, his hands balled into fists and ready to kill.

Rachel and Peter blocked the person's face out of my view, Sylar's hands flinging and sent all three of them crashing into the concrete wall, chunks of rock falling on the ground.

"Sylar! Don't!" I screamed, rushing towards him, but he flung me back with a flick of a wrist, making me crash into the counter, my body slamming onto the floor of crushed glass.

The wind that was knocked out of me made me cough, as I tried to stand up, my dress was now stained with a crimson red, my hands starting to bleed. I coughed, my eyes darting towards my mystery dancer, wincing.

"You! Solitudes!" Sylar grimaced in disgust as he said their name; the taste of the word was like acid in his mouth. "Get. Out. Before I have the urge to kill you."

I picked myself up, grabbing the counter for support, trying not to fall as the blood dripped down my leg from my knee.

The garage door flew up behind them, an opportunity for them to go and they fled for the door, but not with fear.

Peter and Rachel stepped out of the door first, Rachel looking back at me with a concerned face, clutching Peter's shoulder, trying to balance him as he clutched onto her and flew into the sky. Following them . . . was my mystery man.

Now, I could finally tell what he was wearing. An expensive gray-colored suit with a red tie, hazel-gold eyes that stared at Sylar in disgust and a grimace worn on his perfect face as he looked up at me, holding back his anguish.

I nearly toppled over, hitting my head again on the glass, but I blinked, holding onto a beam, just in case.

His familiarity struck me with so much force that I could have fainted that instant that he pressed his forehead to the sky, his arms clasped at his sides, his arrow-looking scar catching my eyes as the light peach color struck my eyes.

With a small puff of smoke whooshing behind him as he flew into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, he closed his eyes.

Petrelli.

But not just any Petrelli.

It was him.

The person they trusted to be a ruler someday. The person who was supposedly human to so many others, even though I just saw him take off into the sky.

It was him.

Senator Nathan Petrelli.

~End of Chapter One~

Guess what? even in the future-GENERATIONS from now, they have a button--yeah--the green one that says REVIEW! pretty plzz!