He imagines catching them, catching them all. Taking their abilities one by one, savouring each as he begins to understand how they work. He could take his time to learn them, to know the nuances of each. They all struggle against him, but, eventually they all fall.
*
He dreams of them at night. Feels the powers coursing through him, and he wakes up itching. The urges so strong, the need to have them all, to take them away from others who don't deserve them is all consuming. Most of them don't want them, choosing to ignore it. Treating it as something unsavoury, not understanding the beauty of it. He could show them the wonder of what they have, the gift and the curse.
It's easier just to take it from them.
*
Staying in New York for the meantime seemed right, almost natural. This was where his path began, it was only fitting that he started his new journey here.
The city was teeming with people who had abilities. He could pick and choose whose he takes.
He was going to take them all.
*
He wasn't nostalgic, he was more than happy to leave Gabriel Gray behind him. There was no part of this city that held any kind of hold over him. There was no family, and certainly no friends. After he left the alley behind Suresh's, he found a lucky soul with a remarkable gift.
Sylar watched him for several hours, watching him as he worked at a photo booth. He followed him home in the evening, waiting till it darkened outside before entering the apartment.
Moving quickly he liberated the man of his ability, he surveyed the apartment. The man was nothing, working for five dollars an hour, with no pictures on the walls. He wouldn't be missed.
This would do for a few days.
*
He couldn't get comfortable. There was no way they could overpower him, or take him in in any way. Sooner or later though, someone within the Company would realise what this man had been, and what he could do. They would send someone out to assess him, to see him in action.
He knew how the Company worked, and he wouldn't be here when they came.
*
He took advantage of his new friend's ability as he walked the streets, searching. Choosing which face they saw, choosing what they saw.
Some days he was an elderly man, who walked with a limp. Other days he was a middle-aged business man.
He was passing himself off as just another New Yorker, Yankees cap in place when he saw her. The sling was absent, but he'd recognise her anywhere.
His skin felt like it was on fire as he imagined the feel of her electricity powering through him.
He was going to enjoy this one.
*
She made it far too easy for him. She didn't look over her shoulder as she strode down the sidewalk, Bob's little girl wasn't thinking. Every day she did the same thing, at the same time.
She sat at the counter, conversing with the girl behind the counter. Elle walked right by him on her way in, brushing past him as she left. She didn't spare him a glance.
He followed her all the way home to her apartment.
Foolish girl.
*
Nursing a cup of green tea he watched her as she accepted her change from the girl, smiling happily as she drank her milkshake on her way out of the cafe. He ignored the stirrings of nostalgia; choosing to imagine how it would feel when he took the power from her.
"She's cute," a voice pulled him from his fantasy. It was the girl, wiping the table beside him.
Sylar couldn't help but smile a little at her in response, "Does she come here often?"
*
He didn't go there the next day; sitting on a bench across the road with a newspaper he watched the front of the store. His heart beat rose as she entered at her usual time, a jaunty spring in her step. Counting the seconds he waited.
She burst out a hundred and forty seven seconds later. The colour drained from her face as she looked frantically around, looking right over him. She then all but ran all the way back to her building.
He let her go, today.
*
There was a pull to her - he didn't normally want to play like this. He could have overpowered her all ready, showed Bishop what he was capable of, hurting her in ways that would curl even their toes. Ordinarily he would have been onto the next target by now, the one after that even, but he wanted her like this. He wanted her looking over her shoulder, terrified that he was going to be right there.
She wasn't the girl that had come into the watch shop all those months ago - he didn't want that girl anymore. He wanted the fire, the anger that came from her.
He wanted her to fight him, sparks flying everywhere.
It was going to be beautiful.
*
Days passed with no sign of her. He began to fear that she had taken the first bus back to New Jersey, but then she dragged herself into the shop early in the morning. Slumping onto a stool she ordered a cup of coffee.
Exchanging a few words with the waitress, she spun to face him. Staring at him for a short moment, her mouth agape, he gave her a smile which she didn't return. Throwing some coins on the bench, she dashed from the store.
Hiding his smile behind his cup, he shrugged his shoulders at the girl behind the counter. "Guess she's not interested."
*
Climbing the fire escape he sat by the window, hearing the frantic dialling and ensuing conversation. It wasn't a surprise when Bishop told her to stay put. The love of a father in full display, he wasn't sending in the troops, you're on your own sweetheart.
After she hung up the phone, the door slammed.
A flock of birds departed quickly soon after.
Fire.
*
He watched the apartment for several days, other than moving around inside she did nothing. She didn't run, she didn't venture outside. When his fingers began to itch, he went after a woman he'd found just before he saw her. The feeling died down for a few hours, but it resurfaced with a vengeance. He knew what he wanted now, sparks as blue as the sky dancing in his palm.
She wasn't ready yet. She wasn't in the fighting mood; she was huddling in, waiting for the ambush. She was expecting him. He could feel her fear as she walked mere feet from him. It wasn't enough.
*
Manipulating the locks easily he let himself into the apartment. The sound of the running shower filling the space as he walked through the rooms, the door to the bathroom wide open. Steam filled the room as she stood under the spray. Her head resting on the wall as the water rained down on her.
It would be so easy. Yank the curtain away, throw her against the wall, and take what he wanted. She wouldn't see it coming. She was relaxed, and completely oblivious.
He didn't want it this way.
Soon, he'd take it just the way he wanted to. He told her so on the bathroom mirror.
*
Waiting till night fell he re-entered her apartment, taking care to be silent as he closed the door behind him. Her eyes were on the street below, she didn't move as he came up behind her.
Her hair moved as he stood behind her, his name passing her lips on a breath. Moving her quickly against the wall, she gaped down at him.
"Did you miss me?"
Her lips moved, but no sound bar a gasping breath escaped her.
"Speechless? Have to say I prefer you this way," he said quietly. "Less lies."
Closing her eyes briefly, he lessened the grip as she opened them. "I had to, I didn't want to, Bennet..."
"Enough." He snapped, stopping her. The eyes closed again, "Do you think I care for your reasons? I really should thank you. It's because of you that I am who I am."
The noises in this head faded away, the beating of her heart slowing, her breath coming easier. She reopened her eyes, and they were clear.
"You aren't scared, why's that?"
"I'm not scared, I can help you. You don't have to hurt me," Elle said quickly, her voice steady.
"It's going to hurt Elle." His mouth watered as the images assaulted him again. "How can you help me? Haven't you done enough?"
"There are files, about you, every single thing about you. Who your parents are; what they could do. I can help you find them." She hit a nerve, and she knew it. A ghost of a smirk crossed her lips as she spoke.
"Why would you do that?"
"I have a file too; my father hid it from me. I imagine it's in the same place, but I can't get to it. You could, I can get you there, but I can't get into the room. Don't you want to know? All the answers are right there."
Of course he wanted to know. He wasn't surprised that Bishop had a file on his daughter. She was nothing more than part of the business. Elle had proven that she couldn't be trusted though, this was her bargaining chip. To save her live she was making a deal, there would be no pay off for him other than a file. For her - hand delivering Daddy's main target to his front door.
He could keep her on a leash though, control her, and kill her at the drop of a hat.
He wanted that file. "You do anything, and I will..."
"I just want to get into that room," Elle said quickly.
*
After procuring a vehicle, they leave before the sun rises the next morning. She doesn't talk as they drive over the bridge; no words pass her lips as the countryside passes by her window.
Her heart rate stays the same; she's calm, steady as a rock. It's more disconcerting than a scared Elle.
*
The parking lot is empty as they arrive, which is strange for the middle of the day. He looks at her quickly, but she seems just as surprised as he is.
"Where are they?"
She gives him a look, shaking her head. "They don't exactly fill me in on everything, especially at the moment." The last words are bitter as they leave her lips, and her mouth twists. "Let's go."
*
It's on the fourth floor, at the end of a hallway. She leads him quickly down the hallway, looking around constantly. He expected to have to force his way, this ease of access isn't the way it should go.
Elle stops in front of a doorway, a simple lock on it.
"I thought you couldn't get in?"
"It's not as easy as it looks," she kicked it with her foot, hiding her wince. The noise reverberated through the air. "Six inches of solid metal, believe me when I say I have tried to get in. Repeatedly."
Casting a glance around the corridor, he moves her out of the way. Holding her in place with one hand, he focuses his attention on the lock. Pushing pieces, and moving them out of the way of others. It's complicated - more so than any other lock he's come across. A giant jigsaw puzzle – creating new twists as you solve one.
He becomes so focused on the lock that he doesn't pay any attention to anything around him, other than holding Elle in place.
It isn't until Bishop speaks that he realises they are no longer alone.
"Well done, Elle."
*
The last bit of the lock moves as he spins around pulling her against his front to face her father.
"I always knew you had it in you," he says, stepping around the men surrounding him. Their guns trained on Sylar.
"You left me alone," Elle whispers, her heart starting to sped up for the first time in hours. "Why?"
"I knew he'd come for you, you had to have known he would. I thought you knew," Bob said calmly, stopping a few feet from them.
"You could have told me..."
"That doesn't matter anymore; you know what you have to do."
Sylar moved his hand up to her throat, muttering under his breath, "Don't."
She looked up at him before snapping her eyes back to her father. "I'll kill her," Sylar tightened his hand, feeling her gasp against his palm. "Put those guns down, or I will snap her neck right now."
Bob kept his eyes on Elle, "No, you won't."
Her pulse raced, she was breathing deeply. "Daddy, please."
"If you were going to kill her, you would have done it once you got to the door."
He could see the sparks dancing under her skin, lighting her up, she tightened her hands into fists.
Bob stepped to the side, leaving the guns with a clear shot at them. "I don't think you could kill her."
"What are you doing?" Elle gasped, her body tensing as the guns moved a step closer. "Daddy?"
Sylar leaned over her, keeping a grip on her. "A sacrificial lamb, you're the bait Elle." He whispered in her ear, her eyes closing as a tear escaped them. "You know it, you've always known it."
"No," she shook her head as best she could.
"I can take it Elle, Claire is incredibly generous, can you handle the bullets? Once they pierce your heart there's nothing you can do, and they are going to shoot to kill."
"He's not..."
Bob watched them closely, "You can't look at this any other way Elle. You've become the means to an end, mine. You can't trust him."
"I can't trust you," she whispered back fiercely.
"He knows - about Claire, and our exchange. He's not trying to kill me, just slow me down. You're in the way Elle," the guns didn't waver in front of them. "Stop them, do it now."
"No... My father..."
"Is prepared to let you die, I can take whatever you've got. We can get out of here, and you'll never have to look at him again. Feel his disappointment when you don't meet his too high expectations, aren't you tired? Always trying, but never quite succeeding to make him happy?"
"I can't trust you, he's my father."
Moving them around, he slipped his hand away from her throat, holding it millimetres from her skin. "I'm only bluffing Elle, you can help me, I want you around. Those men holding the guns? Kill first, ask questions later."
Elle looked up at him quickly, returning her eyes to her father. Bishop did nothing. His arms folded across his chest he watched them, "What are you waiting for Elle?"
"I won't kill him."
Bob raised an eyebrow, and Sylar realised that she wasn't referring to her captor. "You don't have to," he whispered. Not today, he thought to himself as he moved his hand down to rest on her hips, holding her body tight against his. "What are you waiting for Elle?"
Her nod was barely noticeable, but there was no missing the electricity that flew from her hands, stunning her father, and his companions.
It really was a thing of beauty.