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Chapter 1

The Willing Abduction

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"Are you going to kill me?" Claire asked. Tears caught in her throat; a line of blood adorned her head.

"Oh, Claire." Sylar smiled. "I couldn't kill you if I wanted to."

Time shifted on its axis. Somewhere distant, a butterfly flapped its wings.

Hand on the doorknob, Sylar paused. "That makes you the one person in the world who's safe from me. How does that feel?"

"Terrifying," she answered.

But Sylar let go of the door, striding towards her. Claire skittered backward. He stopped a foot away, still too close for comfort. One hundred miles away would be too close for comfort.

"You're a good person, right?" he asked, not waiting to hear the answer. "Moral and innocent and pure."

"I… I don't know…"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Only the truly good aren't sure. And you know your blood saves lives?"

Despite her pounding heart, she felt her courage resolve. "Yes. It brought my dad back."

"Well, you see, your blood brought me back, too." The distraught expression on her face was an enjoyable sight. "Now, since learning about your blood's miraculous powers, how many people have you saved?"

Claire scowled at him. "What?"

"Well, if I were a good person - like you, of course -" Sylar sauntered closer, dragging his fingers along the tops of her father's company boxes. "I'd have gone to a blood drive every weekend. Every day, perhaps. I wonder how quickly your blood regenerates? How many lives you could save per hour?"

Claire's scowl deepened.

"So?" The red folders he'd grabbed rattled against his side as he stepped closer. "How many have you saved?"

Her scowl turned bitter. "My dad doesn't want-"

"Tsk tsk, Cheerleader. How selfish." Sylar shook a finger in her face. "You're losing points off the Good Person scale. Might be closer to my end than you thought."

"Never," she said.

Sylar only smiled. "How'd you like to save…" He counted the red folders under his arm. "Four?"

"What?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't particularly matter to me if my victims live or die. Thought it might to you. Thought you might want to make a difference." With a cheery wave, he headed for the door.

"Wait!" she called out.

He stopped on the spot, savoring the moment he'd known would come.

"Explain," Claire said.

"I do my thing, cut open their heads," he said with a little wave of his finger. "All you need is a syringe. A little injection of your blood and they're as good as new. No reason for anyone to die. Ever again, really, if you were truly the martyr type. But I think you'll settle for," He batted his eyes, trying to ooze innocence. "saving the lives of four, undeserving victims."

"Like you care if they die," Claire bit out.

He lifted a hand helplessly. "I don't. But you do." He turned to the boxes, rifling through them.

"So what do you get out of this?" she asked, watching him through narrowed eyes.

"Company," he said, not looking away from the boxes. "After my Central American Road Trip, I got used to having an annoying sidekick."

Claire snorted. "Go rot in hell, Sylar."

He produced a syringe triumphantly. "Knew your dad would have one lying around." But on top of that box lay a single file, separated from all the rest. "What's this?" He paged through the yellow folder.

Claire lunged for him. "Don't you touch that!"

With a flick of his fingers, Sylar pinned her against the back of the couch. "Now, now, Claire. It doesn't do to get emotional over a simple ability to fly."

"Leave him alone," she gritted out.

"Him." A wolfish smile spread across Sylar's face. "Thank you, Claire. You've already helped tremendously. You see, I was about to take on the Company with only your power and my own." He shrugged. "Probably would have worked, but why take the chance? Much better to stock up, first." He skimmed back through the file. "Ooh, a local boy! How convenient."

"Don't touch him!" Claire screamed, writhing against her invisible bonds.

Sylar held a hand to his ear. "What was that? I thought you told me to rot in hell. Have you had a change of heart?"

Claire was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she finally said. "I'll help."

Sylar clapped a hand to his chest. "Your willingness warms my cold, dead, heart. Truly, it does."

Claire fell forward, her invisible bonds released.

He tossed her the syringe. Claire caught it, glaring at his back.

Slipping the yellow folder in among the red, Sylar walked out the front door, whistling a jaunty tune. His glowering shadow followed sullenly after, gripping the syringe like she was dreaming about places she'd like to stab it.

Sylar couldn't help but smile at her. This was going to be fun.