Sorry the Sylar chapters are so short. I'm planning on extending them a lot more once things are finally set into motion. Most of these other chapters have just be preliminary stuff. For those reading the whole thing thanks for hanging in there!
It had been a disappointing day for Sylar. He had spent Monday and Tuesday staking out the house of a lonely grocery store manager who turned out to have nothing more than the ability to understand any language being spoken or even reading it on a written page. He took the power anyways, in retribution for the time he had wasted. The next day had been no better. Wednesday morning dawned on a cabin deep in the Colorado Rockies where he found a teenager who could boil water without even touching it. A worthless power to him, he had thought about killing him as well for wasting his time until he heard the boy's mother call him into dinner, "Gabriel, time to eat."
The boy had stood up from the stream where he had been nervously practicing his newfound talent if that's what you could call it, and without a single glance into the trees where his potential murderer was watching, the bandy-legged boy sprinted towards the log cabin like he'd never had the promise of food waiting before.
Sylar had decided to leave that one be. The Hunger was powerful, but less so when presented with something so clearly beneath him.
He looked at the last name on the list, Bryce Howitzer. It listed an address in LA, but once again, he had no idea what he would find. Some pimply adolescent boy who discovered he can morph into a chicken? He decided on his way to Los Angeles that even if this Bryce Howitzer had no extraordinary ability, his patience was at an end, especially after sparing the life of the tiring namesake in the Rockies. Then again, Gabriel was not his real name anymore, Sylar was. So why had he felt his heart soften at the mention of it and feel the gentle tug of mercy pulling on him?
Sylar shook his head at the thought. There was nothing good left in him, nothing of humanity remaining. There was only the insatiable need for more, more names, more abilities, more power. Even if this man didn't have something he needed, there would always be someone else out there who did. The only task was to find them.
But, he reminded himself, First things first. And he shape shifted into a wolf, coming back the same way he had come.
It was late when he arrived in LA. An electric billboard said it was somewhere past 4:00AM. It was hard for him to see with these wolf eyes, so he found an alley and transformed back, grateful for the cover of darkness and the convenience of clothes shifting with the person. It would be more work than he felt like right now to try and steal clothes.
Adjusting his jacket and smoothing his pants, he shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled out into the brightly lit streets of the LA nightlife.
Hookers lined the streets and tried to approach him, but he gave them such a look as to deter any of them from chasing him down. He enjoyed the look of fear in each of their eyes when he gave them such a look of obvious contempt and kept going. As much as he wouldn't object to some physical gratification, he was not about to acquire more abilities than anyone else and sully himself with a whore.
Meanwhile, crowds of drunken frat house boys stumbled out of overpriced bars and called down taxis which seemed hesitant to stop at this hour. Bag ladies and other homeless people passed him by, obvious almost as they peddled for spare change or screamed obscenities laced with Scripture.
It was still too early for him to find this Bryce Howitzer's house. He wanted the man's mind awake and alert when he watched for his ability. He would have to wait a little bit longer, and for the sake of Bryce Howitzer and anyone else around him, Sylar hoped that he had something he wanted, or else it could get very ugly indeed.