Sylar, Manhattan.

Sylar leant against the rough brick wall of an alleyway's entrance, watching the streams of busy Manhattan traffic move slowly by. He knew that they'd come by here eventually, Mohinder wouldn't risk staying at the loft for to long. I guess it's a lab now. Sylar thought indifferently. It didn't really matter which, nobody would be going back there for a long time. And judging by the small explosions he had picked up, all the information there was destroyed.

Mohinder and the others would be coming past here soon; that much Sylar knew for certain. They all had something he wanted. Molly, Maya and that blonde all had abilities he craved. And Mohinder had information Sylar was determined to rip from the man's head. Somebody had taken away his abilities and now that he had them back; that somebody was going to pay in full.

Sylar cocked his head as he listened out for the four voices. His ear's pulsed with pain as the roar of cars and shouts echoed through his head. He ignored the piercing aches in his ears and close his eyes, attempting to filter through the insignificant sounds and focus on the one's he wanted.

A malicious grin appeared on his face when broken pieces of Mohinder's voice reached his ears. "Molly…Elle my bag…"

They were close now, heading just where he'd thought they would. A couple of minutes at the most, give or take.

"Where did you get this?" It was the blonde woman's voice this time—Elle; his main target in this ambush. He wanted her ability just as much as he desired Molly's. But he wanted revenge on Elle for his little tumble out the window. Molly could wait. They all could wait until the blonde's blue lightning was held in his hands.

Sylar folded his arms and breathed out in anticipation. They were getting closer now. He could hear their ongoing conversation easily above the intelligible sounds around him. He was pleased that he could still filter the sounds around his and latch onto specific things. He had no desire to go through those headaches again.

He perked up when he saw Mohinder's car turn through the traffic and speed down a separate street. Now, now, Mohinder, Sylar frowned, Just where are you going?

Sylar pushed himself off of the wall and almost lazily raised his hand. He waited for a moment. He wanted them to get a little bit further away, the less people who could see them, the better.

Sylar grinned and clenched his fist. The car froze, instantly stopping as it hit Sylar's telekinetic wall. The windscreen shattered as one of the car's passengers was thrown through the safety glass and deep into the side-street.

He lifted his arm higher into the air. His right eye twitched as he telekinetically flipped the car over onto its roof. The cab skidded across the concrete in a shower of orange sparks, colliding against the side of a building before coming to a rest on a mangle of shattered concrete and metal.

Sylar winced slightly as the effort required to lift the cab made his head ache painfully. Claire's miraculous blood was still working its magic throughout his body. His external wounds had healed, but he got the feeling that it would take a fair amount of time before his ill-used abilities regained their previous strength.

He examined the scene for a moment, considering his options with an unbroken, ticking mind. He could immediately tell through his enhanced hearing that all four of the car's occupants were still alive—though at his distance he couldn't tell who each person was. The woman who had been thrown out through the windshield was breathing shallowly, each breath becoming more laboured. Whoever that was, she didn't have long left.

He grinned and stepped forward, making his way towards the crash site. He had chosen his first victim. It was important he got to her before her injuries prevented him from obtaining what he wanted.

Traffic was starting to slow down, people were beginning to stop and stare in complete astonishment; in their eyes the car had hit solid air. A good few had cell-phones out and talking to emergency operators. No one would question Sylar walking towards the crash; everyone would just assume that he was going to help.

Sylar almost chuckled. In a way, he was going to help—just not in the way anyone would think.

Mohinder Suresh, Manhattan.

Mohinder groaned and tried to raise a hand to his pounding head. Black spots impaired his vision; caused by a long, bruising gash across his forehead. As soon as his fingers tenderly touched the cut his head exploded with pain. Mohinder cried out and removed his hand. He couldn't remember what happened; he must have hit the steering wheel during the crash…

Crash? That's right, that's what happened. It was all a blur, everything had happened to quickly to process. He recalled fleeing from his laboratory. He had passed along Dean's necklace to Elle. And now he was here and everything in-between was blank. He knew that the car had flipped; there was no other way he could explain his contorted position and why things seemed sideways.

He groaned again and tried to relieve the tightening pressure on his abdomen. His seatbelt was cutting into his flesh, restricting his movements. It had undoubtedly saved his life. He looked blankly at the shattered windscreen and the empty passenger's seat beside him. He could have been thrown through the windshield just like Elle…

Mohinder's eyes widened as his mind drove past the fuzziness and pain and accessed swift realisation. "Elle!" Mohinder cried out, wincing as his shout brought a fresh rush of pain into his forehead.

Mohinder reached down and attempted to unbuckle his tightened seatbelt. He frowned and tugged at the belt when it refused to unclasp. He felt the slow and consuming rise of panic begin to build in his stomach.

"Dr. Suresh?" Maya's voice cracked from behind him in the backseat, quickly followed by a loud groan of pain.

"Maya," Mohinder said as he struggled to look over his shoulder towards Maya. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so." Maya replied shakily. "I don't think anything's—oh, no! Molly!"

Mohinder struggled violently to turn around at the panic and fear in Maya's voice. He ignored the blinding pain in his head and the rush of dizziness made by his sudden, violent movement. "Molly!" He called out as his eyes finally fell on the girl.

Molly was slumped against the crumpled car-door, he seatbelt holding her securely in her seat. A large spider web of cracks decorated the side window where Molly's skull had collided against it. The collision had knocked her out-cold. Mohinder's heart skipped a beat when he noticed the small trickle of blood seeping from the side of her head.

"Molly!" Mohinder called out again. The little girl didn't answer, didn't give a single sign that she had heard Mohinder's cry; she remained still, limp and lifeless.

All thoughts of Elle, Maya, even his own well-being instantly left Mohinder's mind, all he saw was his unconscious and injured daughter. He struggled against his seatbelt, slamming his thumb into the release button desperately. He gasped as the tight, painful pressure against his abdomen gave way.

Mohinder slumped, breathing heavily at his sudden release. His stomach ached, each drawn breath and every tiny movement sending quick stabs of pain into his body. He widened his eyes, trying to clear the black spots from his vision. He blinked as his eyes slid in and out of focus. If it wasn't for the knowledge that Molly was out-cold in the back seat; he would have closed his eyes and let blissful unconsciousness take the pain away.

He struggled to sit up, trying to ignore the crippling pain that flooded through his body. He groaned and resisted the urge to hold his head in his hands. The pain had intensified greatly, almost causing Mohinder the pass out. He reached forward, seeking the door handle with spastic fingers. Some part of his brain nagged at him, trying to push through the pain and tell him that there was no way the door would open—not with the cab in its destroyed state.

Mohinder grunted and twisted around in his seat. He drew back his leg, wincing as the movement sent more ripples of pain flooding through his body. Mohinder squeezed his eyes shut and lashed out with his foot. Sliver's of glass fell from the driver's side window as cracks formed like spider webs on the panel.

He kicked out again. This time his foot impacted through the glass, shattering the pane as his foot plunged through. He gasped as shards of glass ripped through his pant's leg and left several bleeding scratches along his ankle. He nudged away the remaining shards of glass and withdrew his foot.

He groaned as he moved his aching body out through the broken window, wincing as the broken glass dug cruelly into his flesh. He didn't stop to catch his breath or dislodge the slivers of glass from his palms, instead staggering to his feet and moving in a faltering run towards Molly's side of the cab. Deafening noises filled his ears and each step he took made his head throb painfully. He was dimly aware of shouts of caution and screams coming from the mouth of the side-street.

He fell heavily to his knees when he reached Molly's side of the car. The car door and window looked like they had barely felt the brunt of the crash; aside from cracks in the glass and slightly crumpled exterior, the door looked intact.

Mohinder reached out and wrenched the door open, moving quickly to catch Molly's slumping body as the sudden loss of the door caused her to fall sideways. Mohinder breathed out and held her head steady. "Its okay, Molly," Mohinder muttered into Molly's hair, "you're gonna be fine."

He pressed his fingers against Molly's neck, sighing in relief when he felt her weak, but steady pulse. He didn't dare risk moving her. He didn't want to cause any more damage than what had already been done. He recalled hearing somewhere that moving a crash victim could do more harm than good. He didn't know exactly where or even when he had heard that, but he didn't want to take any chances with Molly.

He glanced around the side-street, examining it intently for the first time since the crash. Several cars had stopped at the mouth of the street. Mohinder could barely make out the vehicles forms, his vision shifted in and out of focus so frequently it made him feel like vomiting. That accompanied with his dizzying head wound and other abrasions was making his actions slow and uncoordinated

He could see someone approaching them from the main street. Mohinder couldn't make out who the person was, but he immediately knew that he wasn't heading towards the overturned car.

Mohinder moved his eyes to follow the man's path. He had forgotten about both Elle and Maya in his rush to get the Molly. Maya had somehow managed to escape from the cab and was sitting back against the cab, holding her head in her hands. She was clearly in shock, but the crash hadn't seemed to cause her any serious damage. She was banged up and bruised, but that seemed to be the extent of her injuries.

Mohinder blinked repeatedly and looked past the cab and further down the street. He immediately spotted Elle's seemingly lifeless body, sprawled across the concrete street like a broken doll. A trail of smeared blood marked where her momentum had caused her to roll after hitting the ground. She wasn't too far away from the cab; Mohinder vaguely remembered the cab skidding further down the street. He could see Elle's bloodstained face from his position near Molly. There was a long gash just below Elle's hairline where she had impacted against the cab's windshield. It wasn't as impressive as Mohinder's own cut, but it was still sizeable in its own right.

Mohinder gasped as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to release Molly and turn around.

"Hey, hey, calm down." The man ordered as Mohinder began to struggle against his grasp. "I'm a doctor at the Roosevelt. You have to stay still, your heads taken a nasty knock."

The doctor carefully cupped Mohinder's head in his hands and peered into his eyes. "You're concussed," the doctor said, "can you say the word 'retrieval' for me?"

Mohinder groaned managed to stutter the first two syllables before falling silent. The doctor frowned and attempted to smooth back Mohinder's hair so he could inspect the gash on Mohinder's forehead. "Damn, that's gonna leave a mark," he said with fake cheerfulness and a loud whistle. Mohinder could easily hear the concern in the doctor's voice. "An ambulance is on its way. You're gonna be alright."

Mohinder groaned again and managed to wave his hand vaguely in the direction of Elle's body. Everything was getting slower, groggier. His memories of the crash were fading, disappearing from his tired mind. "Help…help her." Mohinder muttered, pointing at Elle's body with renewed vigour.

The doctor glanced towards where Mohinder was pointing and swore. Judging by the doctor's tone, Elle's injuries must have been direr then Mohinder had thought them to be. Mohinder slumped back against the car as he felt the doctor leave his side and rush towards Elle. Mohinder could hear the doctor speaking to himself as he began to inspect Elle; all of the cheerfulness was gone from his voice and had been replaced by worry and determination.

Mohinder turned his head and tried to see past the bright lights and haziness that obscured his vision. He knew that he couldn't fall asleep, that same part of his brain that had told him the car door wouldn't open was telling him that he had to stay awake, no matter how tired he was. He stretched his eyes wide and tried to find something or someone to focus on.

His gaze turned back to the mouth of the side-street. He frowned as someone separated himself from the gathering crowd and began to stride purposely towards the doctor and Elle. His brain nagged at him, he knew that person; he recognised his confident walk and figure. Mohinder chuckled, each spasm of laughter bringing fresh waves of pain into his head. His mind was telling him that amusement was the wrong emotion but of all the times Sylar could show his face, it had to be now.

Mohinder slumped heavily against the car, his legs barely able to support his weight. Even with his slowed thought process, he knew what Sylar wanted. It was blaringly obvious from the moment he had recognised the serial killer. Elle was helpless to defend herself and the doctor could hope to stand against Sylar. Mohinder tried to force his body to move. His initial rush of adrenaline had burnt out, leaving him weak and tired. All he needed to do was slow Sylar down; hopefully by then that ambulance the doctor said was coming would arrive. He could hear sirens in the distance, but unless someone got in Sylar's way, they'd be too late.

He paused, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Maya stand up and step in between Sylar and his destination. Determination mixed with anger was clearly present in her expression.

"Get out of my way, Maya." Sylar said, slowing to a stop and facing the obstacle in his path. "You can wait your turn."

"I'm not going to let you hurt her, Gabriel." Maya said angrily, her body shook as she struggled to control the rising blackness in her body.

"I'm not Gabriel anymore," Sylar stated, clenching his fist until it began to freeze over with ice. "My name is Sylar! Now get out of my way!"

"No!" Maya shouted, stepping back until she was directly in front of Elle and the doctor. Her irises had faded from their soft brown into complete blackness. Her ability was close to consuming her and everyone around her.

"You're gonna kill me Maya?" Sylar mocked. "Not without killing everyone else. Now get out of my way or you'll end up like your brother!"

It was that last comment that pushed Maya over the top. Her grief had been tightly stopped with her newfound hatred towards that man who had used her then betrayed her. Her grief and anger erupted to the surface in a tide of blackness. Maya gasped as her eyes turned black, tears began to fall down her cheeks as her ability tore itself out from her control.

Mohinder felt his throat begin to close up, restricting his breathing and causing him to wheeze painfully. He could feel black tears begin to run down his cheeks. All around him, people started falling. The crowd at the mouth of the street began to scream as the symptoms of Maya's sickness began to spread, causing people to collapse and clutch their faces.

Mohinder felt his legs give way, Maya's sickness sapping away the last of his strength. He heard someone shout a name, the scream quickly being followed by a soft thud on the street close to the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Mohinder could see the body of a dark-haired man. Blood slowly leaked from a small cut on the man's head, mixing with the black tears of the sickness.

Mohinder closed his eyes, unable to muster the strength to keep them open. He breathed out as the sickness dragged him into unconsciousness.

Unknown, Manhattan.

The man sat on the edge of the rooftop and watched the scene of the crash below with complete amusement. He had missed things like this; it had been so long since he had been able to do whatever he wanted without someone holding the leash around his neck. He wasn't a prisoner anymore. The very thought sent excited chills down his spine.

His life over the past five years had been full of routines and procedures. At seven every morning he was required to down several power suppressant pills and then again twelve hours later along with his dinner. At nine he was given a meagre breakfast, then later at ten he was marched towards the testing rooms where he was poked and prodded and studied. Sometimes he was allowed outside, but on those occasions, he was so drugged up on extra pills he could barely put one foot in front of the other. That was his life and he would rather step in front of a bus than go back to that hell.

He glanced sideways at his dark-haired brother. He had rescued him from the fourth level of Primatech's basement; a place where the only lights came from the flickering wall panels. They hadn't even bothered to drug him; they didn't need to. His brother had told him that they gave him two meals a day and experimented on him in the time between breakfast and dinner--in reality, it meant he was tortured.

The man turned his attention back towards the side-street. A grin slowly spread across his face when he noticed someone push his way though the crowd and walk towards the crash. "Hey," the man said, tapping his brother's leg with the back of his hand. "There he is. You ready?"

"Always," his brother cracked his fingers in anticipation, white light flaring between his palms with each gesture. It had been five years since either of them had been in a fight. They were both looking forward to reconnect with the experience. "Just remember, we're only here to stop Sylar from gaining another power. We can't kill him or cause any serious injury. She wants to handle him herself."

"Well, I trust you can control yourself. I really don't want to get on her bad side..." He paused and frowned when he noticed one of the car's occupants stand from her position on the ground and step between Sylar and the blonde lying motionless on the ground. "What the hell? Does she wanna get herself killed?"

He glanced up at his brother who was examining the confrontation below with calculating eyes. He blinked as his brother's soft blue eyes momentarily disappeared in a flash of white light. "I dunno," his brother shrugged, "Maybe she's trying to—" He cut off and gasped for breath, one hand clutching his throat.

The man's hands flew to his own neck as he felt his own throat begin to close over. He coughed as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. On the street below he could see the same reaction in the crowd that had gathered in the mouth of the street. People were dropping like flies, each person seemingly displaying the same symptoms.

He raised one of his hands, pulling it back curiously as he felt a dense liquid touch his fingers. "What…the…?" He rasped, as his eyes fell on the black fluid covering his fingertips. He slumped backwards, falling backwards onto the rough concrete of the buildings rooftop.

He struggled to sit back up as a thought suddenly blossomed in his mind. He immediately spotted his brother wobbling precariously on the edge of the building. He could see the black fluid running down his brother's face, featuring prominently against his pale skin.

He scrambled forward as his friend began to fall, dropping over the side of the building in a matter of seconds. Time didn't seem to slow; there was no slow motion falling. He just fell.

The man reached over the ledge of the building, reaching out desperately for his own ability; something was blocking it, holding him back from unleashing its full strength.

His fingers flexed as his ability trickled into action. It wasn't working fast enough.

"Owen!"

Sylar instantly began to wonder if he had finally pushed Maya too far. She was worked into a frenzy, all grief and anger and hatred. But behind those emotions, Sylar could sense another feeling, one that held all the others together. Sylar had this nagging feeling that he had seen it once before, a long time ago. It took him a moment, but Sylar finally remembered where he had seen it before: He had seen it in Peter Petrelli when the man placed himself between him and Claire back at that high school in Texas and once again when Peter had confronted him at Kirby Plaza. A sense of purpose that could only be described as destiny.

He gasped as the now all too familiar sensation of Maya's virus-like ability began to consume him. "Stop it, Maya!" He shouted. "You're going to kill everyone!"

He watched as Maya sucked in a deep breath and took a step forward. She wasn't even trying to stop the illness, realised Sylar. She was forcing it out, focusing all of her hatred and rage and making it her strength.

Sylar sank to his knees. It wasn't meant to happen like this, he was the murderer, not this girl who always needed someone to hold her hand. Sylar's eyes widened as the black tears on Maya's cheeks disappeared, drying up and leaving her skin unblemished. Her eyes, however, remained the same, still two gleaming pools of liquid blackness.

All around him he could hear people recovering from the illness' effects. The doctor who had been tending to Elle was staring around in shock, the black tears disappearing from his face.

For the first time in a long time, Sylar felt fear.

Maya was in control; her wild emotions had focused on him and were giving her the strength and resolve to control her ability.

Sylar looked around desperately for something to aid him, something to distract Maya and give him the chance to recover. He fell sideways as his strength was continually sapped by Maya's ability.

He flexed his fingers towards the broken shell of the car and twitched his digits weakly towards Maya.

A loose metal piece from the car's body tore itself from the rest of the car and soared violently towards Maya. The piece of metal struck Maya across the temple, instantly causing the woman to crumple to the ground.

Sylar breathed heavily as the sudden illness caused by Maya's ability began to dissipate. He staggered to his feet, his heart pumping adrenaline furiously about his body. He glared down angrily at Maya; she had ruined everything with her interference. He could hear the approaching ambulance sirens vividly; it wouldn't take much longer for them to get here.

Sylar snarled and telekinetically lifted Maya's unconscious body. She was the consolation prize, nothing more. He was running on borrowed time. He didn't expect anyone to follow him. The only person present who was even remotely capable of stopping him was dying on the street. Sylar shook his head at the waste of her ability. He could hear Elle heart beating weakly in her chest, unless that ambulance arrived in the next couple of minutes, the electrically charged girl would be a goner.

Sylar dragged Maya's unconscious body further down the side-street and turned into a deserted alleyway. It was one good thing about New York, Sylar mused. There was never any shortage of dark alleys that you could creep around in. He turned and looked back down towards the crash scene. Nobody was pursuing him down the street; it didn't even look like anyone had noticed he had gone. They were all still dealing with the after-effects of Maya's ability.

He grimaced and flung Maya roughly to the side, pinning her against the wall with his telekinesis. He felt excitement rise in his body, the last time he had done this; it had been a long and overly careful procedure. Telekinesis made everything easier and quicker. He grinned and raised a finger towards Maya's forehead.

He paused, savouring the moment; he was going to enjoy this.

Footsteps reached his sensitive ears—running footsteps. Sylar swore and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway. He raised his hand, smiling as cool frost began to cover his fist. He flexed his fingers; ice streamed out of his palm, covering the distance towards the alley's mouth just as the person burst around the corner.

Sylar watched in satisfaction as the man stumbled back in surprise, his hands rising in a protective gesture. Sylar felt like laughing; the motion wouldn't have done any good. The alley was about to gain a new ice sculpture.

Sylar's eyes widened as hot, white light flashed from the man's hands, instantly melting the ice as it streamed out of Sylar's hands. Sylar released his hold on Maya's body and turned his full attention towards the newcomer. This one looked like he'd be able to put up a fight.

A small gash was bleeding freely down the side of the man's face, standing out prominently against his pale skin. Sylar watched curiously as the man's eyes faded from flashing white to a soft blue.

Sylar flung out his hand, telekinetically grabbing any object his sight. He frowned in confusion as the entire world seemed to speed up around him, leaving him alone, moving at normal pace. After confusion came realisation: It wasn't the world that had speed up, it was him who had slowed down.

The man standing at the mouth of the alley smirked and began to walk forwards, covering the distance towards Maya quickly. Sylar craned his head trying to keep the man in his sights. Sylar howled in fury, he was moving too slowly, he couldn't even keep track of the man's movements.

His neck inched around until his eyes finally fell back on the man. He was kneeling over Maya's fallen body and had his fingers pressed against her neck. "She's alive." He announced up into the air.

Sylar's eyes slowly widened as another man dropped out of the sky, falling the last few metres at Sylar's own slow speed. "Good," the newcomer stated as his speed returned to normal, Sylar noticed that he kept his hand trained on his body.

So he's the one who's doing this to me. Sylar thought savagely. He's going to pay for this!

The newcomer had an air of confidence about him that only a person who had complete faith in his ability could achieve. Both of his attackers did, they both had this feeling in their bodies that Sylar could only describe of blood-lust. For the second time today, Sylar experienced the sensation of fear. These two could kill him here and probably without any serious effort.

"Remember, we're not here to kill." The man who had his hand trained on Sylar said. "Send him flying, but keep yourself in check."

The man with the cut nodded and grinned savagely. Sylar noticed that the man's hands began to gleam white.

"I've seen your faces." Sylar said. He was pleased to notice that the man couldn't control how fast the words came out of his mouth. "I'll hunt you down, I swear."

"Let's hope so," the speed-manipulator said, clenching his fist and releasing Sylar from his ability.

Sylar gasped as the sudden return to normal speed made him stumbled. He flung out a hand, seeking anything that he could fling at the two men. The man with the glowing hands stepped forward, placing his palms flat against Sylar's chest.

Sylar cried out as white heat burned through his body. The man's eyes flashed white and energy burst from his palms, sending Sylar flying back with the strength of the blast.

Sylar grinned as he soared back. Today hadn't gone as planned, but now he had two more faces to add to his ever-growing list. He mentally placed the speed-manipulator near the top. He already had raw power in the form of Ted Sprague's nuclear energy. The man with the glowing hands could wait. Sylar longed to find out how the speed-manipulator's ability worked; to find out how it ticked.

Sylar groaned as he collided with something near the back of the alleyway. He had his mission laid out in front of him, clearer than it had ever been before.

It was his evolutionary imperative.