I went back to Isaac's apartment the next day. Call me crazy, but I was a girl on a mission and I could not go much longer without an ability. I had to find something, anything that could lead me to a special, or I was going to explode.

I waited outside his door impatiently as the cops poked around. I had about zero time for this! After what seemed like an age, the police came to the obvious conclusion that Sylar had done this, and that he had not left a single scrap of evidence on the scene. Duh.

In a way, there was a reluctant sense of pride that came with this. The police could never catch Sylar, and he and I were in the same boat, so to speak. In my head I knew that there was nothing good about my connection with this murderer, but, let's face it, my priorities weren't all that clear.

Once the cops were all gone, I went up to the loft. Once again I walked through the wall, and once again a little shudder went through me as I saw the place. Isaac's body was gone, but this place still had the chill of murder in the air.

I took a deep breath, and reminded myself of why I was here. I had to feed my addiction, and nothing was more important than that. Careful not to touch anything, lest my fingerprints ended up on the crime scene, I cautiously snuck around the room, taking in what I saw.

The majority of the space seemed to be taken up by Isaac's paintings, which I would have loved to spend some time admiring in better circumstances. One thing I noticed, however, was that they all depicted fairly morbid scenes. Explosions, dead cheerleaders, terrible rock monsters and several paintings of Mendez's own death.

Wait! Something about that struck me. How could Mendez have painted his death BEFORE it happened? Either Issac had painted post-mortem, an ability too creepy for me to consider, or he was able to paint things that would happen in the future.

That was an exciting prospect! I proceeded to scan over his things in the hope that there might be something useful to me in one of his drawings. I spied a few notebooks so I snatched them. If I was lucky they would point me in the direction of a new ability.

Notebooks in hand, I disappeared though the floor and headed home. Things for me were beginning to look up. Screw you Kharma.

When I got to my apartment, I quickly started going over the notebooks. Each one was packed with sketches, ranging from rough ideas, to full drawings with color. I spent all night, poring through each page with my usual meticulousness, but it was not until the last book that I was able to gain any leads.

Every single page was filled with sketch after sketch after sketch of Kirby Plaza. A crowd was gathered around that weird, red, circular, staircase, statue... thing. Did these people have abilities? I kept looking through the book, hoping for more details.

I got a shock when I saw the drawing of me. My own picture, drawn by a man who had never met me. It was eerie, I'll admit I got a little chill when I saw it. But it was definitely me. My wide hazel eyes, big angular nose and pouchy lips were unmistakable.

The drawing of me was reaching into a woman's head. She looked as though she was in pain, and I looked quite the opposite. Clearly, I was taking her ability, the only question was: Where and when did this happen?

The where wasn't too difficult to figure out. It took place in some alley near Kirby Plaza. The statue was even in the picture, or a corner of it at least. I could go down there tomorrow and figure out exactly where it was, just by using the picture.

With a start, I realized that tomorrow could be too late, or too early. I checked the picture again, hoping it would tell me when to go to Kirby Plaza, but I could riddle out no date from the sketch. Only the time it would happen. thankfully, Picture Mangle was wearing a watch.

I won't bore you with the details, dear reader. I will say that for the next few days, I stood in the exact right spot at the exact right time, waiting for that woman to show up. I got more and more obsessed with each passing day. Hopefully, this chick would have a damn good power.

Turns out, she did. One night, as I waited for the girl to show up, I began to see a crowd accumulating around Kirby Plaza. My heart skipped a beat, it seemed that tonight was the night. Interested in this strange gathering, I found myself watching what was going on.

They fought, one man in black seemed to be facing off against the others. He was alone, it wasn't exactly a fair fight. A part of me wanted to aid the loner, but he seemed to be holding his own against the rest of them. That is, until a smaller man ran him through with a katana.

My first instinct was to go to the man, to try and help him, but I stayed put. There was only one reason why I was here, and that was to find the girl, and take her power.

As if on cue, a woman pushed past me, trying to get in on the action.

"That was rude." I snapped, grabbing the woman by the arm and slamming her against the wall. The girl looked a little dazed, and so I took my chance to reach into her brain. The painting came true, and I got my new toy.

There really isn't a better feeling than gaining a new ability, and this time it was completely guilt-free. No one got hurt, and now I understood what to do; now I could make people see what I wanted them to see. I could create illusions.

With a sigh of contentment, I withdrew my hand. Suddenly, the woman cried out in agony. Crap! Better scractch that 'no one got hurt' thing. Had any of the crazy people in Kirby Plaza heard? I didn't wait to find out. Using my newfound ability, I made myself disappear, turn invisible. If anyone had heard the woman's scream, they wouldn't see me.

I turned to leave, but something made me stop. I turned to look back at the katana'd man sprawled on the street. Maybe he was still alive...

I shook my head, I'd seen that guy shoot a cop not five seconds ago. It was the boy in blue I should be worried about. It was the guy who had just flown into the air and exploded. It was the katana-wielder who had disappeared into thin air. Why should I want to help just the one?

But the others had friends who would help them. He was alone. He needed someone. I sighed, and doubling back, I ran to him. No one saw me, I remained unseeable. Even as I crouched down next to the dying man in black, he didn't see me.

Of course, I got a shock when I saw who it was. It seems that Sylar's and my paths would cross again, for here he was. The eyebrows gave him away, had I seriously ever thought this guy was hot? Now, however, I was faced with a more pressing moral dilemma; save the killer, or let him die and save his future victims?

Oh, screw it! I wrapped one of Sylar's arms around my shoulder, and placed my invisible-illusion around him. Geez, he was heavier than I thought he'd be. I spotted a manhole a few feet away and dragged the both of us over to it. He left a trail of blood along the ground.

"Don't die," I hissed at Sylar. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

"I won't."

Oh! I hadn't realized that he was conscious, it was a bit weird actually. I didn't exactly want Sylar to know who I was so he could come, you know, Sylarize me. After lifting the manhole cover as quietly as I could, I stood up.

"You owe me." I told him, and then turned and ran. I had to get home, wash Sylar's blood off, test my new power. One thing was certain, I wasn't going back to Kirby Plaza any time soon. The place was full of weirdos!

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Author notes:

Special Appreciation Hugs to -YouStoleMyName-, BigRed001, Celina-Marie and LunarEclispe for story alerting Mangled. :)