Tilting.

Tilting the man so his head touched the floor, Sylar smiled. Why was this always so much fun? Still, improvisations help provide variety. Plus, it might amuse her.

Elle's slightly manic laughter confirmed his suspicion.

'How terrible. Turning him upside down . . . for a man that is supposed to defy gravity and walk on walls that must be humiliating. The whole letting him use his power but being helpless thing.'

'Yes,' Sylar responds, 'and it means the blood will make less mess.'

Upside downman, who's name for the next few seconds is Ed, starts to scream. Sylar drags his finger in a familiar slow steady motion, which cuts the scream off mid course. Blood, bone and cerebral fluid gush across the shower floor. They mix into a red slushy with a white half coconut shaped island that travels across the smooth cement toward the drain.

Slyar crouches down, squints and looses himself in the minutia of Ed's mind.

Elle flips some stray blond hair away from face. She glances toward the shower room door. Really she expected a man that could defy gravity to have a good job. Local community college janitor seemed a little un- ambitious, which does not matter now. Still, Ed cleaned the gym alone every morning which was convenient. At least no one else was around to hear the screams.

'Done.'

'Breakfast?'

'Sure.'

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'Hmm . . . waffles, eggs, milk and a coffee,' Elle states with her normal overly chipper voice.

'And for you, sir?' asks the middle aged waitress.

'Cereal and orange juice.'

'Ok, anything else,' queries the bemused waitress.

'No, just the cereal for the cereal killer,' Elle responds with slightly twisted smirk.

'Yes, just cereal.'

'Ok.' The waitress walks away from the worn red padded booth toward an equally worn counter. She says something Elle cannot hear to the man standing behind it, with a slight glance back toward Elle and Sylar.

'What did she say?'

'How am I supposed to know?' responds Sylar. 'My hearing is not any better than yours now.'

Elle makes a child like pouty face, 'Yeah, but I thought it might be interesting. I don't get to make that joke much.'

'I would prefer you did not make it at all,' Sylar said.

'But that's no fun. Maybe I should tell her you're a real serial killer?' she says as she smirks, again.

'I would like to eat,' he says.

She sticks her tongue out in response.

He looks at her long blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, her slim figure accented by the sleeveless blue blouse and tight black slacks. Her brilliant blue eyes add to that aura of naïve innocence she so easily projects. Slyar things she looks like any other beautifully, young businesses woman out for an early breakfast. Her appearance belies the deranged killer underneath.

Elle's lighthearted mood starts to fade under Sylar's intense brown eyed stare. She fidgets in her seat, starting to feel like an unsettled, she asks, 'Who's next?'

A smile spreading across his face Sylar says, 'Why your boy toy, Peter.'

'But he lost his powers.'

'Yes, I know.'

Elle tilts her head to the left slight wrinkles crease her forehead. 'If he does not have any powers, then what's the point?'

'It will be fun . . . plus, it will upset my would-be mother,' Sylar said.

Elle glances toward the waitress, her mind wondering where the food is and why they always return to this conversation.

'Killing Peter will upset Angela. It will upset Natahn. It would be fun but it would make things harder. If Peter dies, Natahn and Drako would stop at nothing to find you,' Elle says with a slightly tired voice like someone making the same argument for the thousandth time.

'They will do anything to find me, now. This way I can hurt them for coming after you,' Sylar said.

'No.'

A slight sneer passes flickers across Sylar's face. He keeps wondering why she does not wish to go after Drako.

'Why do –'

'No.'

'I don't-'

'The food's coming,' she cut him off again as the waitress arrives with a tray.

The waitress places Elle's waffles in front of her. Then she places the cereal and orange juice front of Sylar.

'Anything else?'

'No,' Elle blurts out quickly, 'we're fine.'

The waitress gives her a slightly confused look, shrugs and walks back to the dinner's counter.

'I got away . . . plus think how many people Drako will catch while we waste our time chasing after Peter. Hmm, how many powers will slip through your fingers,' Elle says in a calming seductive tone. Her hand reaches across the worn tabletop toward Sylar, their fingers intertwine and she pulls his hand towards her. 'Please, let's get someone else . . . someone with powers.'

He stares at her pleading electric blue eyes. The warmth of their interlocked fingers distracts him. She knows that her touch will soften his resolve.

'Who then?' he asks.

'The invisible man.'