NOTE: I'm trying my hand at Heroes here. Sylar caught my attention and he is hott as a BAMF so this story started brewing. This is the first chapter so I just wanna see how y'all like it...plz comment!

The streets were cracked and faded with age. Sylar thought for a brief moment they would crumble under his feet as he passed through the thick of the small town. One side of the road was filled with well-kept buildings, a police station and some government centers, while the other side seemed to be packed with abandoned buildings, their windows boarded over and their parking lots patched with weeds.

The summer heat was unbearable, pressing in around him like a wet blanket of humidity, suffocating him. The sweat beading on his forehead and trailing, sluggishly, down his neck was driving him crazy. He wiped it away impatiently, ignoring the honking horns of cars passing. He was forced to trade his usual dark attire for something thinner and cooler. When he reached the deep South, he realized just how poorly he prepared for the weather. How in the hell could the temperature spike twenty degrees just by crossing from Tennessee to Alabama anyway?

The pulsing in his head grew when he finally reached a tiny little dot, almost overlooked, on the map called Phenix City. He sneered, sitting on a bench near the river bordering the city. He looked at the bridge crossing over the water into Georgia. He watched cars cross over back and forth, and pedestrians walk across on the sidewalks. Not even a mile separated these two small cities, but crossing this river seemed to make all the difference. From where he sat, he could see rising buildings and shiny, new facilities. People bustled like ants over there, while the people over here seemed to drag themselves along, speaking volumes about them. It was here, though, that the power pulsed, like an exposed live wire. He had felt it from miles away, a pale echo to the thrumming energy he picked up now.

This person lived and thrived here. They had walked these streets, ate at these run-down fast food restaurants, looked at this river...

"New in town?" a man asked, leaning over the bench. Sylar looked up, feigning an innocent look. The man was completely unremarkable. An easily forgotten face in a forgotten town. "Sorry for asking, but guys like you are more at home in Columbus, not here."

"I can see that," he said honestly, the man's thick accent grating on his ears. He sounded like a reject from Beverly Hillbillies. "No, I'm just passing through. I'm actually looking for someone. An old friend of the family."

"Are you now? May I ask who? Pretty small town, everybody knows everybody." He replied with a wide smile. Sylar tensed, his fists clenching beside him as the Hunger throbbed in impatience. He didn't have long.

"I'm not sure myself. Just thought if I come to town, they'll find me." The man nodded to himself.

"Alright, well good luck finding them, I guess. My lunch break is almost up so I'll just be leaving you to it, then. I'll see you around." He left and Sylar ignored him, his face losing its nice mask. A few more seconds and he would have-Sylar shook his head. No, no more innocent bystanders. Just the ones you need to end the pain...just them. The thrum of energy pulsed with the headache between his eyes, the heat pressing down on him mercilessly. Whoever it is that was putting off this amazing power was going to die slowly. They should suffer as he had making his way down through this sweltering wasteland.

A breeze from the river cut through the heat like cold water in a desert, wrapping around Sylar and with it, the power's energy in full force, stunning him. He then smelled something sweet, like both an exotic flower and a baking cake. It both raised the hairs on the back of his neck and released all the tension in his body, leaving him lax and almost boneless where he sat.

His eyes were drawn to a white SUV driving across the bridge, stopping several yards away from him at a stop light. The windows of the car were down and its music was turned up loud enough to be heard where Sylar sat. The woman driving it wore a baseball cap, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and she was drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel, occasionally mouthing the words of the song she was listening to. She wore a modest tank top, fanning herself. Her smile as she lip-synced was bright, reflecting in her large eyes.

Now that he saw her, he knew it was her. She was the one shining like a beacon, calling him and his Hunger to her. She was attractive. He smirked as he thought of how attractive her brain would be, and how powerful he would become once he got to it.

The light changed green and she pulled away, oblivious to Sylar as he slowly started to follow, her energy trailing behind her like a trail of glowing bread crumbs. He was more than willing to wait until nightfall. The monster inside of him agreed with a purr, already giddy from anticipation.

Her name was Nala right now.

She sighed as she walked into her apartment, sifting through the mail, all addressed to her, but to different names.

Hara S. Smith...

Boca J. Smith...

Yrallih Smith...

"Thank god I'm allowed to keep my last name," she muttered for the millionth time of her life. Ever since she came into this 'ability', her name had long since vanished, being replaced by so many others. It wasn't for a lack of trying on her part, that was for sure. She tried, but it just couldn't happen. It had been so long, she wasn't entirely sure she could remember the name she was born with. She had already changed it so many times.

It was because of this awesome 'ability' that she had to drop out of school and quit work, throwing herself into seclusion. It was annoying as hell giving a new name every time she opened her mouth, but now that she cut herself off from the world, she was able to keep a name for longer than a day. Today, she met a man named Alan at the library. He gave her his name before she could say anything, so now? Call her Nala.

Alan was nice enough, nothing real special, except for the son he abandoned with his high school girlfriend. It was amazing how many nice guys had that particular secret hidden inside them. Needless to say, she excused herself as soon as she could and hightailed it out of there. It was damn near impossible to find anyone with pure intentions. Every single person she encountered was dark on the inside while portraying sunshine on the surface. Very few were true to their natures but then once they met her, whatever her name was at the time, their true nature destroyed them.

She threw the mail onto the kitchen counter, falling onto her small couch. Her forced seclusion was made easier by the rumors flying around town. She heard some church-goers call her "the mark of Cain", she heard others call her a "curse", and most called her "the luckiest twenty-five year old alive". She wouldn't call herself lucky. She attracted evil like a magnet and saw more death than any woman her age should.

She huffed, covering her face with her hands. Days like this always reminded her of the loneliness she feels. No one she knew had true intentions where she was concerned, and those who did, weren't around anymore. She stared up at the ceiling, wishing to whoever was listening that she lost this so-called wonderful ability, but then she sighed. If they didn't grant this wish the first day she wished it, why the hell would they grant it now after ten years of death and blood?

The sun had set hours ago, taking with it the oppressive heat. The night was still thick as it pressed around Sylar and mosquitoes took to him almost as soon as he approached the woods bordering the girl's apartment building. He allowed Elle's power to crackle and pop over the surface of his skin, and he took a small delight as the pests soon stopped biting, his power popping as the bugs flew too close. The lights in the girl's apartment, 12G, were still on and he could see her silhouette crossing the windows.

The girl's apartment building was secluded, set up on the side of a country highway, a few blocks away from the community college. The entire area was nothing but small side roads and woods, making the beast inside him grin in satisfaction. If he wanted, he could take her deep into the treeline, away from the little bit of civilization. She could beg, she could scream, and the only one to hear her would be him. The fantasy of her lying in the grass, writhing and screaming, begging him to stop, of her gorgeous brain on display, had him practically salivating by the time night came and truly fell, all the lights in the building shut off as their inhabitants went to sleep. It would be easy work. Break in the apartment, kill the girl, take her overwhelming powers, and leave. He would be back to tormenting Claire and Peter before they even find the body.

He followed the last of the girl's energy to the door of 12G, the disorienting smell of flowers and cakes now overpowering his senses. The locks on the door were easy work, but there were a handful more than he thought the girl would have. She's definitely the cautious type. He counted ten locks, and half of them had no way of being opened from the outside, if it weren't for his telekinesis. The door opened silently into the dark apartment. It was a messy place, but there was a definite path cleared through to the bedroom. He followed the scent of the girl, his blood racing with excitement as he felt her presence in the room beyond. Her power was almost singing as he crept closer, pressing his hand to the door of her bedroom. He felt her power answer his, curling around his hand as if it was a tangible force. Then it withdrew, its absence stealing his breath.

"I know you're there." Her voice stated calmly behind the door. He froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "My nerves are about to give me a heart attack so just open the damn door already!" His stomach dropped like a lead weight as he stood there for a moment. He was, honestly, shocked. He heard her groan loudly before the door was yanked open. Her large brown eyes stared into his with a glare. "I felt you the minute you broke in, so tell me what you want, then get out."

Sylar raised an eyebrow, surprised by the girl's tenacity. "Usually," he drawled, "little girls would hide under their bed when the monster breaks in."

She stiffened, her mouth twisting in a grimace. "If you consider yourself a monster, then I've seen the goddamn devil himself!" He couldn't help but smirk. "What do you want?" she asked again.

He leaned on the doorframe, closing in on her personal space. She didn't give an inch. She just continued to stare at him. "Something you have."

She smiled ruefully. "If it's money, have at it. I only have ten bucks to my name. If it's my identity, good luck. I'm listed under more names than you can count. And if it's me in bed, I'm sorry, you need to buy dinner first." She smirked, moving to close her door, but Sylar's hand shot out, catching it. When she looked up then, she was alarmed. "So which is it?" Her voice only had a faint tremor in it. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking for it. He sneered, stepping into her room and in turn, coming within inches of her. The smell of flowers was her perfume, he noticed, but underneath, the smell was warm, the smell of cakes baking in an oven.

He also smelled her fear, and it was like the frosting on top. "None of those things. I want what you have. I want the power inside of you."

"How did you-?"

"It calls to me. I need it." She held up her hands, her eyes blown wide with fear now.

"Hey, listen, don't hurt me, okay? You're going to regret it. Trust me! If I knew how to give it to you, I would, but whatever you do, don't hurt me." He chuckled, the sound dark.

"I'm afraid I have to." He reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers down her cheek. She shuddered, her eyes closing tight as a whimper escaped her throat. "I need your power, and I will do whatever I have to to get it." With a twitch of his fingers, she flew across the room, gasping as she hit the far wall, pinned. Sylar winced when a sudden ache blossomed across his back but shook it off, watching her struggle under his grip.

She looked at him fearfully, but her eyes made him pause. She wasn't scared of him. "Please." She pleaded. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. Let me go. It's already happening. Please, Sylar." The use of his name made him falter, releasing her to fall to the floor. She was shaking, but made no move to run. "Sylar-"

"How do you know my name?" He snapped, feeling truly stunned. Was she a telepath? If she was, why did she think she would hurt him? Perhaps she was also telekinetic? He couldn't wait to get to that brain and find out. She pushed her thick hair back with a trembling hand, her face drawn and pale. Her brown eyes were almost black, her pupils blown wide.

"I know everything about you." She replied, voice shaking. "All of those people...dead." Her voice didn't show the horror she showed on her face. She looked at him like he was certainly the boogeyman. "I take it back. You are a monster."

"Now that we're in agreement..." he muttered. He quickly crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. She pressed herself back into the wall, as if willing herself to fall through it. "You can't run from me."

"It's not me that should run." was all she said.

Enough of this, he thought as he held his hand up. He reached out with his power, feeling it press then cut through her skin. She cried out in pain and shock as blood dripped down her face, an angry red line carving itself across her forehead. Her eyes didn't leave his. Her gaze flickered back between his eyes and somewhere just above his brow. After a moment, she paled further.

"No!" She cried. "Please! Stop!" He ignored her as he pressed on, his limbs trembling in excitement as he felt her power reach out to him, encasing him in its powerful glow. She went limp under him, sobbing words in between cries. He lost the ability to understand them as the rush of her energy washed over him, then suddenly, he cried out as agony erupted in his skull, blood bursting from his skin and dripping down his face. He collapsed to the floor beside her, both of their powers retreating back as they panted.

"I warned you." She sobbed, still propped against the wall. "I'm so sorry." Why was she sorry? Sylar reached up, feeling the blood trail up his face to his forehead, where an incision made its way across, the deep seated pain inside his head meaning the damage had reached his skull.

"What the fuck are you?" he growled, already feeling the bone and skin knit back together. He was wiping away the blood dripping off his nose when he noticed her wounds healing as well, almost as quickly as his own.

"I'm you, sort of. I'm a Mirror." A mirror? He sat up, sitting across from her as he regained his strength. She didn't seem terrified anymore, just weary. He realized, with alarm, that he was actually afraid of her. Was it impossible to take what he needed? Who was she?

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Right now? Ralys." His brows knitted together in confusion, but the pulsing pain in his head made him decide to ask questions later. Right now, he climbed into her bed, ignoring her glare as he used her sheets to wipe the blood from his face. She scoffed when he kicked off his shoes, carelessly discarding them on the floor. He vaguely heard her mumble some colorful words.

"Just so you know, you can't kill me, so I suggest you don't try to." He said, glancing at where she still sat on the floor, dabbing the blood on her face with a discarded shirt.

"Same here."

He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head, letting his eyes rest as his brain struggled to process what the hell just happened. "That's too bad, Ralys. Because I am certainly going to try."

He heard her sob quietly, and even though his eyes were closed, he knew she stood up. He heard her cross the room to the bathroom and shut the door, then the sound of running water. He vaguely heard her rush to the toilet and vomit. The sound of her retching made his own stomach roll unpleasantly.

She eventually came out, groaning. Sylar opened his eyes, staring at her back as she opened the door to leave the room. "If you leave," he said calmly, "I'll just hunt you down." Ralys froze in the doorway, her fists clenching at her sides as she looked over her shoulder.

She had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I fucking live here. I'm not running away. So if you're staying in my bed, then I'm taking the couch. I've survived a lot worse than your little magic trick, so unless you plan to try to kill us both again, I'm going to get some rest because I feel like shit, so I know you do, too. We'll talk in the morning. Night, Sylar." She closed the door firmly behind her, mumbling under her breath about Advil and ginger ale as she left the room.

Sylar tensed when he heard her voice reach the front door.

"I'm still not leaving, asshole!" She called back as she locked the door. He was taken aback. This was a strange woman.

He forced himself to relax back onto her bed, strangely assured that she wouldn't try to kill him while he slept. Tomorrow, he'll figure out how to get her powers. The ability to reflect your opponent? He could certainly use that to his advantage. She had healed at the speed he did, meaning that being his reflection also meant access to his powers. That could be the answer he was searching for. Perhaps he could find a way to retain those powers, end the need for all the bloodshed? And she would be the last life he takes for his own greed. Ralys? His own name backwards? Was that what she meant by her many names?

"You're giving me a migraine!" She yelled banging on the wall outside of her bedroom, apparently in the living room. He smirked, letting his eyes close again. She was certainly powerful. He had only grazed his fingers across her cheek, and now she had full access to his mind and abilities. He felt the first stirrings of worry twist his gut before he quelled it. He had just as much power over her that she had over him, and now, he realized, he's going to have to get creative. It's been a while since he had a challenge and the beast inside of him growled in agreement. This kill was going to be well worth the trouble. The longer she made him wait only meant the longer she would suffer.

"I doubt it." The girl, Ralys, said through the wall. "Have fun plotting. I'm getting some sleep."

Again, they found themselves in an agreement. Sylar allowed himself to fade with a mild headache and the sound of a watch ticking in his ears. He didn't have much time. He would have to figure something out very soon. As he drifted, he could have sworn he felt that tangible force of the girl's power reach out to his hand again, curling around his palm like a wisp of smoke. Before he could think to look, though, he fell asleep.

Sylar woke to the smell of coffee and a voice talking in the other room. He took in the organized mess that was the bedroom, slowly sitting up to see where he was. A painful throb inside of his head brought the past night back in flashes.

He followed the girl to her apartment. She knew he was there. She knew what he wanted. She knew his name and who he was. He tried to kill her. Her power protected her, by projecting her injuries to him. She said she was his reflection, his Mirror. The name she now called herself was Ralys. What was her name before?

He stood, stretching the kinks in his back. His shoulders hurt. He guessed it was from throwing Ralys into the wall. He padded barefoot into the hall, frowning when he realized the girl was on the phone.

"No, Jared, it's fine." She said, holding her head in one hand. She must have had quite a headache, because Sylar's pounded terribly. "No, I can't come out to lunch either." Sylar cleared his throat. She jumped, looking over. He sneered, holding a finger to his lips. She just rolled her eyes. "What?" She turned back to the phone. "No, it's just my client. He just got here. Yeah, it's a pretty big case. Nervous breakdown. Got to get him back on his feet." She paused, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "A week," she looked over at Sylar again, from head to toe, "Maybe more. He's pretty messed up."

Sylar chuckled, gliding into the kitchen, helping himself to the mug of coffee on the counter. The instant it his his tongue, the headache abated, coming down to a dull twinge. He couldn't help but sigh. It's been a while since he had coffee this fresh, from such a foolish victim.

"Could you stop with the internal monologue?" She snapped, laying the phone on the counter beside him. "I just basically signed a one-way ticket to a kidnapping and you're over here grinning like a cat in an aquarium."

"Kidnapping?" He asked, taking another sip. She crossed her arms, jaw taut, glaring daggers from her eyes.

They stared at each other over his steaming mug for a few moments before she huffed, turning to the fridge. "You want to kill me. I get it. Don't exactly get why, but you do." She opened the door, leaning down to look through its contents. His eyes couldn't stop from wandering down, taking in her figure. She was solidly built. She wore loose-fitting pants, but he could tell her legs were toned underneath. Her curves were graceful and perfect. He wondered if she was as soft and warm as she looked. "And when you stop staring at my ass," his eyes glanced up to catch her watching him, holding a bottle of water, "I can explain what happened last night."

"So you are a mind-reader?" He confirmed, only a smidge guilty. She closed the fridge, mirroring his pose, leaning back against the door. She laughed once, with no humor.

"The ass-staring was good ol' female intuition. Everything else?" Ralys shrugged, uncapping the water. "It's complicated." She walked off into the the living room, throwing casually over her shoulder, "You might as well get a second cup before you come in here." He looked down, noticing his mug was almost empty. He refilled it, then followed her to the couch. He dropped down onto the cushions next to her, smirking at her grimace, but it was her fault. This was the only place to sit. They could always move to the bed, however, and the idea made his smirk grow wider. She massaged her temples, mumbling under her breath.

The silence that stretched between them was thick with questions. Why was Sylar here? What exactly could Ralys do? Why can't he kill her?

"Okay," she finally said, dropping her hands from her head. She stared at the patch of cushions between them as she spoke, "It's not unusual for teenagers to have an identity crisis, you know? Who am I? Why am I here? That type of shit, but I never thought mine would last ten years. I figured out the why I'm here part, but who I am is another game entirely. The guy I was just on the phone with. His name is Jared. If you weren't here, invading my head, my name for the rest of the day would have been Deraj, or I prefer Dera J.. He's just a friend. He would pretty much be the only one to alert authorities if I went missing so I had to get him off my back."

"You're so willing to disappear? I would have indulged you if you found me sooner." Sylar replied, absorbing her fear. "If you're so afraid, why are you sitting here, making me coffee, and telling me all of this?"

"Because you can't kill me." She said that with dead certainty. That made Sylar frown.

"And why is that?" He fought to keep the frustration out of his voice as the beast inside him roared in denial. He has to kill her. He must. He needs that power.

She allowed herself a small smile then. "Everything you do to me happens to you. I am you right now. Which means that this would actually be a very creative form of suicide."

It was Sylar this time that was dead certain. "I can't die."

She nodded, gingerly feeling the healing red skin on her forehead. "I noticed. That healing ability certainly comes in handy, I'll admit. I've had to come back from a lot worse the old fashioned way." She crossed her arms, curling into herself. "My power is both a blessing and a curse. With this, I can help people in a way very few can. I know their deepest, truest selves, and I can help them with whatever troubles them, but being their reflection also means I'm exposed to their darkest secrets and any evil they're hiding. You're a relief actually. You, as Sylar, are the reverse. I've seen the people you kill, the blood you spilled, and the countless lives you took for your own personal gain." The tone as she said it wasn't accusatory, just stating facts. But when she finally looked into his eyes, the gaze was calculating, "It's the good in you I have to look for. The answer, Sylar, is yes. You are capable of redemption."

Before he knew it, his air supply was cut off, and he knew i was because he had the girl pinned under him, a hand around her throat. She gasped and wriggled under him, fighting to throw him off, but he held firm, squeezing her throat tighter. It wasn't until his vision started graying and his head was pounding again that he let go, seething. He needed to kill her. He needed it.

She sat up, still pinned under his body, rubbing her throat. She coughed for a while, trying to breathe again.

"I always hate that one." She joked in a hoarse voice. "You can't strangle me. You can't poison me, shoot me, stab me, beat me to death, or even push me into a speeding car, and trust me, that's been done. People have died trying to kill me, Sylar." She didn't seem perturbed by their closeness as she leaned back to look in his face. "I gave myself the next week or so because I know you're going to leave, now that you can't get what you want. And you have two options: You either make arrangements to take me with you, or you don't act surprised when I show up wherever you go. Now that you need my help, I can't walk away."

"Who says I need any help?" His own voice was hoarse.

"Don't choke me again, but it's not you, Sylar, who needs me. It's Gabriel." Her gaze pinned him with deadly accuracy as he processed her words. She knew Gabriel. She said there was good in him that she could salvage.

NO!

There was no hope. He just has to resign himself to killing those he needs to sate the Hunger. He heard a watch ticking, and it ticked almost like the girl's pulse did when it was pressed under his thumb. She couldn't let him leave. She would follow, and her power would wrap around him, teasing him, taunting him, making the next person he killed only half as satisfactory as she would have been.

"If you're coming with me," he said through clenched teeth, "you will be miserable. I will make you wish you could die, and when I finally figure out how to take your powers, you will beg for it."

She nodded, her face closed off. "From what I've seen, if anyone can figure it out, it's you."

He squashed the pride he felt at her acceptance. Instead, he stood, keeping a firm grip on her arm as he drug her to her bedroom, throwing her towards her closet. "Pack for cold weather." She franctically climbed to her feet, disappearing into the closet.

He stormed back into the living room, turning over the coffee table, tearing magazines apart, and scattering them through the whole room. He then rushed to the sink in the kitchen, opening every bottle of cleaner he could find, dumping it on the furniture and the drapes. When she finally came back into the room with a heavy suitcase sitting beside her, he had the room soaked in flammable liquids.

He grinned smugly as she noticed her apartment in shambles. The color drained from her face. "What're you doing?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small lighter. She bit back a sob when the realization hit her. "Next stop is a long way, but it will give us plenty of time to talk." He flicked the lighter, tossing it onto the couch. The couch erupted in flames, the smoke quickly filling the small apartment. "Let's go." When she made no move to leave, frozen to the spot, he took the suitcase in one hand and her arm in the other, forcing her down to the parking lot. Tears were dripping down her face when he forced her into the passenger side of her SUV, throwing her bags in the back seat. She stayed silent as he climbed into the driver's seat, cranking the car. "Wish you were dead, yet?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "It's going to take a lot more than arson, Sylar."

He let his mind wander as they pulled onto the highway, heading north. Far north. He finally glanced at her, smiling when she shuddered. "Can't wait to figure out what does it." She shook again, curling tightly in her seat.

"I hate you." She hissed, her voice thick.

"I don't care." He replied, letting silence fill the cab of the truck. The beast growled in impatience and Sylar's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. Her perfume faded, so now the truck was filled with the scent of vanilla and sugar, making his blood race. Her energy cackled and swam around him, and he could feel it around him like silk. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the speed of the car steady climbing, as she trembled next to him. So small compared to him, and yet the power inside of her was bursting at the seams, eager to explode. The animal inside of him was clawing and snapping, desperate for even a little taste.

A pale forearm was forced into his line of sight, and in that fragile hand was a pocket knife. "Go ahead. If you don't, we'll end up wrapped around a tree." She flipped the blade open, holding it out to him.

Before he thought twice, he took the blade, dragging it across the soft skin of her forearm. She cried out, yanking her arm back, cradling it to her chest. His body relaxed in fractions as her power lashed out, coiling around him then penetrating him. Pain blossomed across his forearm, where an identical gash broke out in his skin, blood pooling and dripping into his lap. The beast purred, satisfied with the taste, as he curled up and rested. The consistent headache behind Sylar's eyes and the watch ticking in his ears faded until it was gone, and tension he didn't know he had melted away.

"Was it worth it?" She asked.

"Yes." was his reply as they continued down the highway, this time at a legal speed.