I wake up on an unfamiliar bed and try to sit up. My head is throbbing, and my throat feels dry.

Don't move. The deep voice came from location I could not pinpoint.

I obey relunctantly, and sit up straight. Events (since I was last conscious) flash through my head.

"Where am I?" I inquire.

I get no answer.

I look around the room I'm in and take mental pictures. The most interesting site I see is the wall in another room. Written with red ink (could be blood...) were the words "FORGIVE ME" and etc.

"Gabriel, is that you?" I asked, although the answer was a bit obvious to me.

"My name is Sylar." The voice says quickly.

"Gabriel, where am I?"

"My name. It's SYLAR." He says sternly with a tinge of annoyance.

I get up from the bed regardless of the major headache and I look for him. The second I notice him, I get thrown into a wall. I hover a few feet above the ground. I suddenly notice how short I am.

I now feel like I'm being choked by an invisible hand.

Sylar moves closer to me and his eyes dig deep into mine.

"You ask too many questions."

I drop to the floor and rub my neck.

"Get whatever things you have. We're leaving."

I do not protest. Rather, I grab a backpack and stuff some snacks, a waterbottle, etc. inside.

"Where--?" I stop talking. I think if I ask any more questions, he'll throw me out of the window. I'm annoying the hell out of him, and I know it.

"You're going to help me find someone."

"Me?" I ask, "Why me?"

"I saw what you can do last night. You're special, as I am."

Special... I think.

I shoulder my bag and walk to the door. I place my hand on the doorknob and look at the man.

"Let's go, Sylar." I'll have to get used to that name.

Sylar grins wolfishly. His new favorite expression.

We use the fire escape to exit the apartment building, and take a cab all the way to the airport. Our next stop: India. I honestly have no idea why Sylar chose that place as our destination, but the plan is set, and I don't have the guts to complain. Anyway, I already have a fake passport. I made it a few months ago during a boring afternoon. Looks like the plan could possibly work.

"Sy?"

I call his name as we sit in the lonely airport waiting area. We're about half an hour early. He's over at a coke machine, somewhat irritated because the machine ate his money. He sort of kicks it and walks back to where I'm sitting. He sits in the seat next to me and grunts.

"I don't see what we can accomplish, going to India and all. You have a girlfriend or something over there?"

Sylar narrows his eyes, apparently not amused by the joke and replies, "I have some business to take care of."

I nod and look down at my feet.

"You might need a new identity." Sylar adds.

"Got it covered," I assure him.

He raises his eyebrow and looks at me with a stern face, as if saying "Don't let your guard down".

After that short conversation, Sylar became very quiet, occasionally opening his mouth to say something, but no words came. I fidget in my seat and twiddle my fingers, wishing that the plane could be ready faster. We are an hour and a half early.

"I'm gonna... get my ticket." I say.

He nods as I walk to the desk. He watches me as I purchase a ticket in the name of Kathryn Tennant, born somewhere in Wyoming. The man at the desk places a stamp or something on the paper and scrutinizes me. I fidget (again) nervously, as if he knows about my fake identity.

"Wyoming, huh?" He says.

I stay silent, and he notices my confused expression.

"I grew up there,"--He smiles--"are you a cowgirl or something?"

I try to hide my confusion and nod. "Yessir, I come from Fremont county." My lie is already starting to grow.

He smiles and places another stamp on the false passport and says, "Good day, ma'am."

"G'day, sir"

I turn around and examine the man seated at the chair. Sylar sits quietly, staring outside at the jet planes. I've only been around him for a day and a half, and I think I already know a lot about him. As far as I know, he's developed a dual personality: Gabriel, the quiet, nerdy, friendly type; and Sylar, the cynical bad guy.

"What?" Sylar interrupts my thoughts and looks at me with his annoyed face.

"Nothing." I mumble, taking a seat beside him again. He's in "Sylar mode".