Disclaimer: I don't own...Heroes, Paper Towns, If We Were A Movie, Legend of Zelda, Bananaphone, or Pikachu. CFPT, of course, is all mine. Hehehehehehehehe!

Review Replies:

CountryPersonel: Thank you. I've always thought that randomness is good for the soul. I'm updating right now!

Emma Stargaze: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Well, you could argue that the other people (besides the people at CFPT) are too confused by Sylar's behavior to play the game properly. But that could wear off shortly... Did you get your friends to play it with you? Wow. I don't know if I've ever brought joy to anyone, at least, not that they've replied in those exact words.

I'm The Night Writer: I'm glad you (and everybody else who's reviewed) likes my story. As stated above, I'm updating!

Shakespeare's Lemonade: Well, thanks! I know what you mean about not knowing what to say; I usually don't review if I don't have something worthwhile to say. As stated twice above, I'm updating!

The Rockerbabe: If you're still looking for a fic like that, you might check out Shakespeare's Lemonade, she writes some interesting stuff. There's more Zelda-ness to come, trust me. Everyone seems to be saying that my stuff is pure genius. Not that I don't like it; it just seems like high praise for something like this. Thanks for reviewing!

TorryLover: Thanks! And I'm updating!

Chapter 6

Sylar was in a bookstore, buying Paper Towns by John Green,when his cellphone rang.

If we were a movie

You'd be the right guy

And I'd be the best friend

That you'd fall in love with in the end

Needless to say, he answered it quickly. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Peter Petrelli?" said a low, husky voice.

"Um, no."

"Drat! I thought I had him!" The voice on the other end had abruptly become loud and somewhat higher. "You wouldn't happen to be related to him in any way, would you?"

"That seems unlikely."

"Ah, well. 'Bye!"

"'Bye."

H H H H

"Well, the DNA tracking isn't working. We found someone who isn't even related to the guy we're looking for!" said Mr. Phoneson, hanging up his phone.

"What? How is that possible?" said one of the numerous CFPT redshirts that were currently in Mr. Phoneson's office (who, funnily enough, were not wearing red shirts, but were in fact wearing ninja costumes).

"I don't know! Fix it!"

"Yes sir right away sir!" said the workers in unison, the lack of punctuation apparent in their statement.

"And change out of those ninja costumes! We're a respectable business; we don't use highly trained assassins!"

"Yes sir right away sir!"

After the redshirts left, Tag walked over to stand by his window.

"How did I ever get mixed up in all this?"

You refused to learn to play the ukulele, so this is the only job you could get.

"Oh, right. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back in time and tell my high-school-aged self to take ukulele lessons. If only time travel was actually possible…"

…Note to self: keep Hiro away from Mr. Phoneson.

"Who's Hiro?"

…Note to self: stop thinking in bold letters that Mr. Phoneson can see.

"Who are you?!" yelled Mr. Phoneson to his ceiling, just as his second-in-command walked in.

"Who are you talking to, Mr. Phoneson?" asked Bored, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

"The person that talks in the bold letters, that's who!"

"What bold letters?" she asked, confused.

"Those bold letters! They're right there!" Tag gestured to the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phoneson, but, I don't see any bold letters."

There was a long silence. Tag looked at her, and the expression on his face was unreadable as he said, "Get out. Now. Please."

Ms. Andcouldcareless backed out of the room cautiously. She closed the door behind her, and as she turned to leave, she heard a paralyzing explosion of sound.

"WHO IS HIRO? UKULELE! ORANGES! WHO ARE YOU? PHONE TAG! YOU'RE IT! BANANAS! MARTH! LINK! HE COME TO TOWN! COME TO SAVE GREEN PEACHES FROM THE ROOSTER! MUST! LEARN! UKULELEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

H H H H

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring

Bananaphone!

Peter answered his phone. "What is it, Sylar?"

"Pika?" said a high-pitched voice.

"What?" said Peter.

"Chu?"

"I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"…………PIKACHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!"

"What are you doing?"

"PHONE TAG! YOU'RE IT!" yelled Sylar in his normal voice. Then he hung up.

"Ugh. This is getting annoying."

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring

Bananaphone!

Peter answered his phone again. "What?!"

"Peter? It's Mohinder."

"Oh. Hi."

"I think I've figured out how to stop Sylar."

"Really?"

No, not really.

"What?" said Peter to his ceiling.

PHONE TAG! YOU'RE IT!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

H H H H

Sylar was sitting at home, reading his newly purchased copy of Paper Towns when he realized there was someone watching him.

He looked up to see…about ten people standing in his living room. They were of varying heights and ages, and some of them looked two-dimensional. Some of them were blond, while others had brown hair. They all had two things in common, though; one of which was the fact that they all had pointy ears. The other thing that they all had in common was that they were all wearing more or less the same outfit: a green tunic, brown boots, and a pointy green hat.

Sylar recognized them, of course, but that didn't make it any less weird to have all the incarnations of the Hero of Time in his living room, staring at him.

"Um…hello, Link…s."

The Links said nothing, but Sylar knew they were responding with a similar — though nonverbal — greeting.

After all, that's how things work in the Legend of Zelda games: Link says nothing, and yet all the other characters act like he just gave them a lengthy monologue, instead of a facial expression.

"I know," said Sylar to his ceiling.

The Links looked at each other, as though wondering what they were getting themselves into.

"Not to seem rude, but what are you doing in my living room?"

"………………………?"

"Really? I never would've guessed."

"………………………?"

"Of course! The more, the merrier!"

"……!!"