Sylar smiled crookedly, eyeing the can he had just plucked from the concrete with invisible hands. It just stared back at him, blankly. He lifted himself up, one hand on the brick wall to his right, and strolled into the lamp lit streets of New York, a smirk plastered to his face. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a very familiar blonde head.
Elle Bishop walked out the front door of Issac's loft, angry at herself for failing so miserably. She looked around suspiciously, as if she was afraid of being followed. Mohinder had offered to let her stay at his apartment for the night, but she declined. Elle was eager to speak with her father. She knew he wouldn't be happy, but she desperately needed someone to talk to. Someone to comfort her. Her father wasn't the best person to go to in this sort of situation, but she really had no one else. All her life, she had been locked away. Never knowing how to socialize properly with normal people, she had developed violent tendencies. Thankfully, this wasn't a problem in her line of work.
Sylar followed Elle, humming casually to himself. The girl didn't suspect a thing. She was too caught up in her own affairs to notice the tall, black-clad man following her. He had seen that wonderful demonstration of her powers earlier, and was excited to try them himself.
Elle skittered down the now-darkened streets, headed toward Kirby Plaza. Her Rolex shimmered in the light cast by lamp posts. It's silver hands read 'ten O'clock'. Shadows crossed the girl's face and she noticed a figure hidden in the black space behind her.
The blonde's heartbeat quickened as her head twitched backward instinctively, matching the ticking of her watch. Sylar ran toward her, his eyes fixed sharply on her small frame. Elle was nothing more than a little doll. Perfect but fragile. The power she had was not fit for her body. She was wasting her brilliance on trivial reconnaissance missions when she should be searching for something more. Sylar extended one arm, flicking his wrist slightly.
Elle crumpled immediately, her hands scrambling frantically at the unseen force choking her. She looked up to see an all-to-familiar face. The man's pale complexion made him glow eerily. Pangs of fear wracked the girl's heart and she clenched her fists tightly. Sparks rose from her fingertips, dancing their way up her arm. Energy burst from her, unbridled and chaotic. It lit the area, bouncing off the surfaces of buildings and burning everything in it's wake.
Sylar shielded his eyes with an arm, removing it once the light faded. He grinned, releasing his grip on Elle's throat. She coughed, pulling herself up on unsteady legs. "Impressive," Sylar chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her. "but can you do more than make a pretty light show?" Elle scowled, focusing her energy into her hands.
"You'll know soon enough," She hissed, shooting countless volts at her assailant's chest. Sylar was thrown backward, but miraculously managed to stay on his feet. The remnants of the shock still clung to the night sky, making the air shimmer. Long charred streaks decorated Sylar's chest where his shirt had been burned. He tried to hold his ground, but Elle noted his fingers and legs shaking a bit.
The tall man struggled to keep conscious. The scene flickered in and out of focus, but he continued to formulate a plan in his head. Steadying himself, he walked toward Elle, grabbed her wrist, and held it close in his pale hand. "It'll take a lot more than that to keep me down," He whispered, his face uncomfortably close to hers. Sylar ran his cold fingers down the girl's trembling cheek. She pulled away at his touch, avoiding the gaze of the man towering over her.
"Well, are you going to kill me?" She asked, rather bluntly. Her voice remained strong, though she was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Sylar smiled devilishly, looking down at the scared girl he held.
"Not just yet."