Chapter Four published on 31 December 2010

Author's note: The answer to the previous chapter's question about Jessie the Cat is "Postman Pat". Congratulations, queenoftheoutlands, for owning the first correct answer to be pulled out of the entry barrel. Your prize is the next chapter of this story (a few months late, I know, but better late than never...*grins weakly*).

There's some mild cursing in this chapter. Just so you know.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Heroes, nor the special guest character from Glee (oh no, Glee has now infiltrated fics from my other fandoms, it's time to run for the hills and so on and so forth).

Early in the morning, Sylar got out of bed. The digital display of his radio clock read 2:48. He changed into his natural form, and using his night vision ability, changed into black jeans and a black leather jacket. Without disturbing Nikita, he went to her bedside, and used his persuasion ability to convince her not to wake up while he was gone. Then he kissed her gently on the cheek, just because he felt like it. She smiled, and muttered, 'Ooh, shiny'.

Sylar quickly stepped outside onto the eighth floor balcony, and flew off into the night sky. He flew to Venice Beach, landed on the sand and silently watched the waves lapping on the shore. There was no one else around. The mission had gone well so far, apart from the intruder who kept invading his mind. His cover was still intact, and in less than 24 hours, Nikita Longgren, newly crowned Miss Harmony 2010, would be dead.

He smiled and pulled his cell phone out his jeans pocket. Arrogantly, he dialed Peter Petrelli's number. Peter picked up after three rings. It was just after 6:15 A.M. in New York City, and he had just arrived home after a late shift (he had gone back to his job as an EMT after dealing with Samuel Sullivan).

'Gabriel, I've tried to call you, but you haven't been picking up. Are you all right?' Typical Peter, being so concerned about Gabriel.

'I'm fine, thanks for asking, Peter,' Sylar said, deliberately making his voice menacing.

'You sound weird. What's going on? Where are you?'

'That's not important right now. All you need to know is that something terrible is going to happen, and it will be too late for you to stop it.'

'Sylar,' Peter hissed, having caught on. 'I thought I was rid of you. I don't know what game you're playing, but you had better-'

'Goodbye, Peter,' Sylar smirked, and hung up the call. Peter tried to call him, but he rejected the call and switched off the phone.

Sylar walked along the beach, and after a few minutes, encountered a teenage boy, standing on the sand and staring mournfully at the ocean. He was tall, solidly built, dark skinned and with a Mohawk haircut. In the moonlight, Sylar could see that he was quite handsome.

'Hey, dude,' said the boy, in a friendly tone.

'Hey yourself.'

'My name is Noah Puckerman. You can call me Puck.'

'Gabriel Gray. Don't call me Gabe, or else I'll rip your bloody guts out.'

Puck gave Sylar a funny look, wondering what he had done to cause such a violent threat to be to be leveled at him. Sylar kept his face neutral, as if they had been talking about the weather.

'Um, okay, it's nice to meet you Gabriel,' Puck said, after an awkward silence, and held out his hand. Sylar shook it firmly.

'You don't sound like you're from around here,' Sylar commented.

'I'm from Lima, Ohio. I'm on summer break, and dude, coming here was a freakin' terrible idea! I came to LA to pick up chicks, but no one's even interested. I'm a man whore, and I can't even land one! These big city girls are worse than the small city ones. I might as well have stayed in juvie.' There was a pause. 'Sorry, dude. I'm usually not a whiner. You don't sound like you're from around here either.'

'I'm from New York City. I'm here to just take in the sights, my friend.' Sylar had already taken a liking to Puck. He had gathered that Puck had problems with authority, and had loose morals. It was like looking into a mirror, except for the differences in bone structures.

'If you want free action, you can have some right now,' Sylar continued.

'You've got some women back there?'

'No, I meant you and me.' Puck blinked in surprise.

'Oh. I like you, Gabriel, but I usually don't kiss dudes.'

'Well, neither do I. Forget it. It was just a suggestion.'

'No, let's do it. Let's make out.'

'Seriously?'

'Yeah.'

'How old are you, Puck?'

'I'm 17. Is that going to be a problem?'

'Not at all.'

The walked further up the beach, and found a bench to make out on. After ten full minutes of making out, Puck was literally out of breath.

'Holy crap, you're freakin' fantastic. You kiss better than most girls I've been with, and believe me, I've been with many. I'm a stud.'

'You're pretty good yourself,' Sylar responded.

'Do you usually walk along the beach at 4 A.M. picking up strangers?'

'No, only tonight.'

'Well, thanks. You made a shockingly bad trip seem worthwhile after all.'

They exchanged phone numbers, in case they wanted to have another make out session.

'That's dope, dog. See you around.'

'See ya.'

They kissed goodbye. Sylar walked a little bit down the beach before flying off. Puck watched on in disbelief.

'Whoa, trippy,' Puck said, thinking how remarkably similar that was to the space sharks on Doctor Who: A Christmas Carol. He fell asleep on the sand.

Back at the hotel room, Sylar quickly shapeshifted into Azaria. She climbed into bed. Nikita did not wake up.

Azaria and Nikita woke up at 7 A.M. The competition's taping would start in the early afternoon, so the ladies had a few hours of spare time.

'Among all of the blondes I've met, she's one of the prettiest,' said a voice in Azaria's head, speaking about Nikita. Sylar knew straight away who it was - Nathan Petrelli. After a lengthy internal struggle, Nathan succumbed to hypnosis and peacefully dropped off to sleep.

The morning's events were not too interesting. Azaria and a few of the other ladies went out together for some clothes and shoes shopping. Before long, the time had come to get ready for the contest, and the 88 contestants descended on the Kodak Theater.

In the dressing room, Azaria could hear the buzz as the audience members filed into their seats. The ladies shared jokes and wished each other luck as the make up was applied, the dresses were straightened and the hair was combed into place.

The stage manager announced to them they were on in five, and for them to take up their positions. As she lined up near the stage doors, Azaria watched a television screen. It showed the hosts doing their introductions of the judging panel and Ronald Plump, which was met with enthusiastic cheering from the audience.

The sound of "Evacuate the Dancefloor" played, and 88 of the world's most beautiful women flooded the stage, in matching silver sequined dresses. The crowd danced along with the music. Azaria smiled. This was fun.

Azaria made it comfortably through the swimsuit and evening gown rounds, accompanied by wild applause. Excellent, everything was going to plan, and she was in the final five with Nikita, Miss United Kingdom, Miss Venezuela and Miss Australia.

In New York City, Peter Petrelli was flicking through the channels on the idiot box, and settled on the swimsuit competition of the Miss Harmony contest. He did not find the notion of tall, beautiful women parading themselves in swimwear entirely disagreeable. He was, after all, a man with two perfectly functioning eyes.

Miss USA appeared on the screen, and immediately Peter thought she looked familiar. What could it be? Then the reality hit him like a tonne of bricks. He had infiltrated Sylar's Den of Evilness recently, while its master was absent. Peter was intrigued by the make up and mirrors that he found. During the creepy phone call from Sylar early in the morning, Peter could hear the sound of waves in the background, like he was at the beach or something. The Miss Harmony contest was being held in LA, which was right on the Pacific Ocean.

Peter switched off the TV and stood up. He felt numb. 'Son of a bitch,' he said, scrambling out of his apartment and taking off towards the West. Fortunately, he had shaken hands with Edgar, and currently had the ability to move at supersonic speed.

Just as the final five was being announced, Matt Parkman entered the Kodak Theater to start his shift as a security guard. He scanned the crowd carefully for any suspicious characters, and finding none, looked briefly up at the stage, where the final five were standing. There was something oddly familiar about Miss USA.

Matt decided to read her mind. He had no idea why he decided to do this, and thought that he would probably find nothing of importance.

'Soon, she'll be dead. Her power will be mine, all mine,' was the thought that he read. Matt was shocked, because the thought was in a man's voice, and he knew to whom the voice belonged to.

'Son of a bitch,' he muttered under his breath, and quickly approached another security guard. 'I'm going to step out for a bit, Sean,' Matt said, casually. 'Can you cover for me?'

'Sure, Matt,' Sean replied. 'Don't be too long.'

'I won't. Thanks.'

Matt exited through a side door, into one of the theater's many corridors. A plan began to form in his mind.

Congratulations, we made it to the end of Part One. :-)

Please don't ask me to explain why Noah Puckerman made it into this story. The Glee plot bunnies of doom made me do it. I did enjoy writing Puck's dialogue, since gangster speak amuses me.

Have a Happy and Prosperous New Year. Please read and review to receive a virtual basket of fruit.