Author's Note: This is my first Hero's fic, and a one-post, just an idea i had and thought to put out there.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Heroes series.

Location - Unknown

Peter stood at the doorway, taking a long look at him. He was no different than the first time they met.

Sylar.

When Peter had first encountered, the madman was deadset on killing his niece, Claire, and now they met once more. Numerous times they had encountered each other and fought.

The first time was one-too-many.

When Sylar finally noticed him standing at the opened door, his mouth formed into that wild and cold smirk he always made.

"Peter Petrelli," he said coldly.

"I'm not here for pleasantries," he told him. "I'm here to kill you."

Sylar's smirk didn't fade at this statement; as a matter of fact, it just got wider. "Really? Falling off the path of the hero. I thought you were the compassionate one."

Only a second after he finished that sentence did he suddenly feel an invisible force punch at his entre body and he went flying through the room, hitting his back to the wall and crushing down a wooden desk and smashing the a decorated vase on it to pieces.

"Not with you," Peter said.

Sylar quickly rose up and with a wave of his hands, a large case of books sitting to the wall on his left launched off their places and headded for Peter, but the books only got a few inches close to him before they stopped their assault and fell to the ground as if hitting an invisible wall. The bookcase itself then flew at Peter, but it just broke into pieces of wood, not one having touched Peter.

Sylar caught a glimmer of a domed-shaped blue line that shimmered over his enemy. A force field, I could use that one, he thought.

"There's no point in doing this, Gabriel," Peter said loudly.

Now the man's smirk vanished and was replaced by an animal-like teeth grinding face.

"My name is Sylar!" he scolded and he raised hands, advancing on his enemy, a blue mist surrounding his fists now. Just as the ice launched from his hands, a line of fire collided with it.

The two men were mere feet away from each other and the orb of flame and ice was growing between them.

"That's your real name, Gabriel Grey!" Peter scolded.

The orb of mixing red and blue then exploded and the two were blown to either of the room. Peter pushed himself up quickly, ignoring the sniggering pain of the collision. Then he instinctly jump to the side as a small shmmering light the size of a baseball hit the spot where he had just been and exploded as it hit the wall. Now there was a large gaping wall connected with the door.

"I'm more than that now," Sylar proclaimed. Another ball of gold light appeared on one of his hands. "I'm special and important."

Peter ducked the second light of grenade and there was another hole on the wall.

"You've caused nothing but pain to others, 'Sylar'. You've killed people who didn't deserve that fate. You killed Issac Mendez, Zayne Taylor, Ted Sprague, and you almost took my niece's life, all for your own benefit."

Above them, Peter could here the ceiling developing cracks all over. Probably from their power collision.

"You were just some little watchmaker in Manhattan," he taunted. "but you couldn't take it. So you took what made other people special for yourself. All you've done has been selfish!"

"It's been natural selection," Sylar said, his arms at his side, saying what's your point? "If they really deserved those abilities, they would have beaten me, but they didn't. I earned all these gifts."

Still keeping his instinct up for an attack, Peter stayed where he was. One last chance to accept the truth.

"You killed them in cold blood, some of them not knowing anything about their gift when they died. And it's not just people with abilities, the cheerleader in Texas, that truck driver - and your own mother."

He noticed Sylar's eye flinch at the mention of his mother.

"There's no excusing your actions, no rationalizing it. You've done nothing important, nothing for the good of the world, your nothing but the bad guy, Gabriel."

Sylar had enough of being called that name and he charged at Peter once more, this time, one of his hands became an iorn fist. As Peter ducked the swing from his dark gray hand, his body dissapeared and Sylar felt himself being lifted up. To an nlooker it would as if he was floating i the air.

He flew up through the ceiling and into the inside paneling between the ceiling and the upstairs floor. Then he fell back down only to be caught by a still invisible Peter and then thrown towards the wall.

He felt something crack and there was a blinding pain on his back, like it was on fire. He couldn't move now.

Peter Petrelli appeared above him with one hand holding him down and the other glowing directly above Sylar's chest.

"So this is it," Sylar - Gabriel hissed weakly.

"Yes." Though his eyes were stone, one little tear dropped from Peter as a show of compassion and remorse over his next action.

The End