Disclaimer: I don't own anything Heroes, it's all property of NBC and whatnot, so don't sue.
Afterwards: Sylar's Survival
A dark tunnel, dripping dirty water everywhere, there is dirt and a stench so fowl, it would make the dead want to die all over again. But that was not the case for a man who sat huddled against the sewer wall. His clothes were damp from both the sewer waters and his own blood. He mutters under his breath, the pain making whispers that left his lips, no more than incoherent babbles from addled mind.
There is a hole in his chest, the aftermath of being run through by a samurai sword, weilded by Hiro Nakamura, that annoying little time bender. The little Japanese man whose head was filled with dillusions of being a hero.
Well that little twerp was taken care of, but what does it matter?
Right now the only thing on Sylar's mind was not to bleed to death and maintain his murderous existence.
With a small, shaky breath to keep the agony at bay, he starts crawling with all the strength he could muster.
He remembers his mom, he remembers that special moment when he created that snow globe shower which swirled around her, that one moment he felt he belonged, that he was loved, appreciated, even though right there infront of his mom he was trying to be an ordinary man; he felt happy to see the only person he cared about was happy because of him.
