Part I: Lord of the Brains: Return of the Killer.

Above, the sound of sirens, footsteps, and the feedback of a megaphone were heard. The process of recovery was rather quiet in contrast to the incredible event that happened not too long ago. However, the surface in which the sun touched was not the only thing recovering. Below, in the filthy sewers of New York, someone too was recovering from his fair share of scars from the explosion.

The surroundings were cool and damp. The aroma was of a sickly stench and its odor penetrated through your lungs. Despite the unattractive smell, the sound of water flow was soothing. In a large corner, Sylar awakened to both of these features. Bandages were wrapped around his abdomen while his trenchcoat-hoodie lay in front of him on a rack. A thick towel lay under him. Someone had come to his aid, but he could not imagine who. He had lost everyone who had meant something to him; everyone else was prey. If someone helped him, then he was not alone down here. He reasoned that the person who had saved him probably had no idea what he was. Sylar sought to take advantage of this in order to overpower his savior as soon as possible. He needed help from no one. Sylar got up slowly and as he did, his bandages started to turn red. He made a small whimper after he sat himself up into a crunch. The moment was ruined when a voice was heard from the darkness.

"So, you're awake now?" said a young voice. The voice echoed everywhere in the sewers.

Sylar did a quick glance toward the direction of the sound- he could still control his enhanced hearing.

"Show yourself…" uttered Sylar with a tone of hostility. He figured he was saved by a child, how degrading that would be.

"Well, I'm glad you're alright now," said the young voice.

"Well, that's good because it'll be the last time you'll be glad again." mocked Sylar in his signature low-tone voice.

Sylar stuck out his hand in front of him and motioned it backwards. Nothing happened. Shortly after, Sylar gave his "wtf-look" and just stared at his hand.

"…How did you…" said Sylar in disbelief.

The young girl slowly shook her head in disapproval.
"I was hoping it wouldn't start this way," said the young girl as she looked into his startled expression. "Anyhow, you won't be able to use most of your powers with my friend here."

From the darkness, the Haitian stepped out.

"I remember you…" said Sylar in disgust.

"Well you shouldn't," said the young girl. "You should have no memories of this man or any memories of why you ended up being down here."

"Too bad, I do; a power I took allows me to remember everything," snickered Sylar.

"Well, that'll spare me from explaining things to you," said the young girl, "but as long as you are powerless and in our custody, we have control over you and you will do as we say."

"I don't do anything for anyone, I live for myself and myself only," stated Sylar with authority.

"And you wonder why your mother died…" the young girl said tragically.

"…How did you know about that?"

"Trust me. We know a lot about you and everything, which is why we need your help. We don't want to hurt you; we just need your help. We-" she was cut off.

"You're a fool. If you know so much about me, you'd know to stay away from me- as far as you could and-" he too was cut off. His vision became blurry as he looked down to see a tiny blood trail flow out of his bandages and soak into the towel beneath him. Sylar looked back up slowly with a look of surprise and then collapsed on his bloody towel.

"… You opened up your wound and didn't even know it," said the young girl. She gave a sigh and motioned the Haitian to come tend to Sylar's body. The sound of the sewers was soothing as the girl and the Haitian mended his reopened wound. Sylar soon awoke to the same serene sound of water flow the next day