He was never sure what struck him first. The noise of the world, cars passing and people honking their horns, shouts and fierce snarls...or the lack of it when he was off by himself. Off alone, standing with his feet braced against the cold stone of the building beneath him, he heard nothing and yet everything. That was one of his powers; super-hearing, the ability to hear a pin drop as if his ear was right there. At times it had annoyed him, but currently...currently it didn't really seem to matter. Not much did. The silence of being off by himself however....that was very nice.

Sylar dressed dark. Never anything bright or colorful. Once he had tried a suit...once he had even tried a white shirt. Once. His right hand came up, and he flicked it so that blue lightning sparked between his fingers. Elle... Sylar wasn't much for introspection or deep thought; rather, he preferred to forget that all of his emotions had ever existed. For the most part, he was quite successful with his endeavors to ignore the world. Others...others he would find himself.....

He looked at his hands, then tossed a ball of lighting at a sign across the way. The edges of it ignited, and he smirked at the thought of the police rushing to see who had set it off. By the time they had gotten there, he would already be gone. His face wasn't anything you'd remember...a bit of stubble, a hawkish nose. But his eyes...they bore the brunt of his change from nerdy, scholarly Gabriel. No. Now they held nothing but anger and that hunger...that hunger for something he couldn't find. No, it would never be enough. The brown of his eyes was almost chestnut, dark and so...cold.

He straightened, and his face shifted from that cold man into a different one. One that would blend with the crowd and fade away. Turning from the chaos below him, he began to move again...towards the next person on his list.



{I forgot to mention his eyebrows. Shame on me.}

Tabatha was a tall women, taller than some men even. It fit her personality. Her hair was the color of mahogany and reached to her waist. She kept it in a tight 'no-nonsense' bun though. No need for others to think she was the delicate beautiful type. No, the phrase that came to others mind's when dealing with her for even and hour was 'Cut-throat Bitch'. That was her name when they didn't think she could hear. She heard though, and it made her smile.

At fist glance she was your average over-zealous, cold business woman. This wasn't all there was to her though. She had...powers. A woman like her on the high rise in the business world couldn't possibly resist the temptation to use her powers to further herself. Whether it was for her job, her personal life, or fun, she'd take as much as she pleased in the cruelest way she could. but no one knew this secret side of her. She kept it hidden perfectly beneath fake smiles and layers of perfect makeup and clothes. No one was going to get close enough to see what lay beneath.

She pushed open the glass doors to Corporate America, feeling like it was going to be a good day.

Ooph...more silence. Noise? All he ever seemed to hear anymore, when he was alone and on the hunt, was the voices of the ones that had ever been closest to him. Silence was something he craved; desperately needed even. The world was so unfair in the way that it worked. Those that didn't need powers got them. Others, like him, who just wanted to be...special. Special. Just be able to light stuff on fire or move things with his mind. Why was it that those that didn't even want their powers were "burdened" with them.

Can you take it away? I'm so tired of it...

Sylar actually smirked at that memory. The first one, wasn't he? Not the only one, certainly, but the first in a long line. The one that had made sure that he could go ahead and take as many powers as he wanted. Telekinesis had been the first gift he'd taken for himself, taken from a less worthy. And then...then he had been able to begin being Sylar(Which is actually the name of a watch company). His reign of silent terror had come from one person who wanted to be free.

Now what? He pulled his blue Mets cap farther down on his head, which did it's job to shadow his face and make him hard to recognize. The FBI were everywhere, afterall, and they all wanted to finish him off. It was dangerous, going out in the middle of the day. But what, really, could stop him? Nothing since he had taken Claire's fast cellular regeneration. Not a thing. Smirking at this thought too, he stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled out a slightly-worn slip of paper with names and addresses on them. What would his cover be today? Depended.

He stuck his smirk away, then walked towards the building after a crowd of other people. Tabatha may have thought it was going to be a good day, but Sylar was about to pay her an unannounced visit. He slid into the building and past the security patrolling the place. If they even noticed him, they didn't pay heed. Into the elevator he got, easy as pie. Now, she worked on the tenth floor...the other people didn't look at him, busy with phones and blackberries. When had people gotten so caught up in work that they could avoid the guy in dark clothes and a baseball cap?

Bing. He got out with another guy on the tenth floor, then walked towards the reception area. The kind lady, after he paid her a warm smile and flirtatious grin, pointed him back to one of the bigger offices. Nice place, but you'd never catch Sylar in a cubicle. Gabriel maybe. He hid his smirk, all business now as he walked up...and knocked on the door to the office.

Tabatha looked up from the already growing piles of papers on her desk at the sound of a knock on her door. She glanced at her watch. Her brow furrowing just slightly was the only hint that she was the least bit perturbed. But she was. She was the sort that memorized her schedule for each day and she knew that she wasn't expecting her first appointment for another ten minutes. She would be ready for anything then.

"Come in," Tabatha called out, her hand moving from the pile of papers to the wood of the desk.

Come in. What would she be like? Tall? Thin? Blonde with bright blue eyes like... He shook his head, clearing it from those thoughts, and put his hand on the knob. You're hurting me... Why? Why was he so haunted when he just wanted to fulfill the hunger?! He couldn't stop it! Didn't she see that he would never be anything else? But his prize was just on the other side of the door. What if he just turned and walked back towards the elevator, got in it, went down to the first floor, turned himself into the police he had called? What if he-

He turned the doorknob and opened it. Tabatha was graced with a pure Sylar smirk, something that almost showed his teeth but didn't. The bright coloring of his eyes had disappeared, replaced with the black strains that meant that he was going to have his hunger filled soon. His hands were out and ready to defend himself or go onto the offense, as needed, but they weren't obviously weapons. Best keep that to himself.

"Hello Tabatha," he said. His voice was the purred growl of a cat that had cornered it's prey, happy and fully so. He invited himself in by opening the door wider and walking in, then shut it behind him. All he said was a greeting...but that in itself was a threat. Sylar came across as a creep, and yes, he was.

despite the situation, Tabatha was as cool as ever. Somehow, she got the impression that the strange man who had entered her office was like her. Powerful...and hungry. Slowly her perfectly lipsticked lips curved into a smile. "I take it you came for something more than a signature on a legal document?" she said casually. She looked so perfectly relaxed, but her logical mind was forming conniving plans beneath the surface. She didn't wait for him to respond before asking another question. "Since you already know my name, might you be so kind to grace me with yours?" With those last words she let the fake smile disappear from her voice just for a second so that the cold malice beneath could shine through.

His head cocked a little at the malice in that little hint, and his smirk widened just a little. No, Sylar didn't come here for a signature. He came here for a much bigger task, something that he couldn't stop himself from doing no matter how guilty he felt at times. Guilt? Well, that had kind of been erased the more he got used to being on the run. Oh well. His dark eyes swept over the woman seated, her brown hair pulled behind her head in a no nonsense way. Why did she seem so callous? Why did he get the feeling that she knew he was there for her specialness?

Not a blonde...

Still smirking, he seated himself and crossed one leg over the other. Might as well talk for a little bit...he was curious about her cold, hard as a rock demeanor. It reminded him of...someone else. "Perhaps." He picked up a paperweight from the desk, fiddling with it for a moment in such a nonchalant way. "Nice place you got here. Plenty of work these days, huh?" He didn't set the weight down; it could prove to be handy.

"My name is Sylar." The one everyone had been hunting. Police, FBI, special forces. And yet, there he was, sitting across from Tabatha. What does that tell you, Tabatha dear? His smirk widened as he lifted his gaze to hers, and his eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes to be a threat. Truly a threat.

Tabatha watched Sylar with with calculating eyes. When he picked up a paperweight, she had to suppress the urge that he was touching and moving things on her so carefully organized desk. She leaned back in her chair and pulled off a pair of black rimmed glasses, one elegant eyebrow raised as she looked at him. Sylar her said? that sylar presumably. Oh well, she'd deal with the challenge he represented when she needed to.

"The work is always coming," she said conversationally. "It seems to never end, but I don't mind." She then switched to the main question. "Why have i been graced with the presence of someone as infamous as you?"

She pulled off the glasses, and Sylar fingered her paperweight a bit rougher. It was an oddly shaped thing, a weight of glass which was curved into a bird. He was amused by this for some reason; perhaps she had been a present from some admirer. For some reason, the very thought of the coldly calculating creature infront of him being sought after by some guy made him want to laugh. It had been a long time since he had laughed...but it would have been a mocking noise anyway. Not something that most considered as a laugh.

His smirk widened as she realized who he was. Did she know exactly what he was capable of? The power that he could wield at a twitch of his hand? Everyone knew he was a....okay, a serial killer. A killer of cereal? There he went again, oh how he could make himself laugh! Smirking, he just held her paperweight as it might have been bothering Ms. Uptight. Then...he decided he'd had enough of her talking. As intriguing as she was, she knew his name and possibly why he was here without his saying a word.

(I apologize if this seems like powerplay...you can't dodge his telekinesis.)

He moved his hand, just a slight flick. From his head cock, you wouldn't think anything of his increased concentration...but the sneer on his face was an outright challenge to the other, and yet...as he stood, it melted into a face of utter serious. This was the point when people generally figured that they were about to die. They, for all intents and purposes, would be right. She was now pinned to the chair, now pretty much at the mercy of strong and intelligent Sylar.

He stood, setting her paperweight down, and walked around to look down at her. "You know why, Tabatha," he said. His voice wasn't...normal. It was growly and low, almost more of a rumble than simply talking. Had it always been this way? As far as he could remember. Maybe Gabriel hadn't had such a snarl to his voice. "I'm here because you're special."

Even though Tabatha was watching Sylar for any hint of attack, even though she was ready for anything, it was to no avail. before she knew it, she was pinned to her chair, unable to move. Damn it! if she could just reach the water bottle in the desk drawer that was left slightly open or perhaps some makeup, then she might have a chance. Her ice blue eyes flared with anger and defiance, a bit like an arctic blizzard.

"Special?" she spat. "You don't even know what I can do, do you?" She knew he didn't. She was always careful to leave no hints. A smart man could figure out she could do something, but that was all. And right now, the element of surprise was all she had.

Sylar never really knew what they could do. Only when he walked forward and met them did he really know or even have a hint of what they could do. It wasn't like the list he had kindly slipped into his pocket from Dr. Sharesh had what they could do as well as their names and addresses. He didn't know what she could do, not at all. But was that what really mattered? No. See, she could have simply turned a piece of paper green, and he would have still....taken it. Taken it all. Without a care, without a thought....

He looked down at the furious Tabatha, her eyes blazing with bright fire. One finger raised, the index finger of his right hand. It would only take a single flick of his finger, and then her head would be open for him to take. Whatever power she had, he didn't really care. And why was he bothering with all of this small talk anyway? Just because? His hunger outweighed any curiosity he might have had, and he just wanted to end it all. His finger hovered over her head....but the blazing blue of her eyes made him pause. Just for a second. For a moment, the hunger paused.

So he answered instead of simple killing her (Because what fun would that be?).

"You're special," he said. "Not as special as Claire, but pretty special. You can do something, and that's all that matter." His finger hovered, waiting to cut into her forehead.

"You have a strange definition of special if special means dead!" Tabatha spat. She was running out of options and her anger showing through showed this. Her mind was the sort that calculated at amazing speeds and she was forming plans in nanoseconds. First would be to protect her head from being cut open. Her power was activated through touch. One hand touched the wood of the table. she wrote that off though. wood could still be cut though. so could seat cushion. There was an object left forgotten in her hand that gave her hope however. Her glasses. She closed her eyes and let herself absorb the properties of the metal frame. A tiny smile played across her face as her arms turned black and quickly spread through her entire body until she became the same black metal that her glasses frames were made out of. She wanted to see the look on Sylar's face when he realized that she wasn't made of soft human flesh anymore. The power of taking on the properties of something stronger than human sent a thrill through her. This was why she loved her power. She always felt it was amazing to become something else at the touch of a finger. for now though, she just hoped it would save her life.

Ah, this was going to be easy. Maybe all she did was turn pieces of paper green. Oh well. Sylar knew that her end would be swift, and then he could enjoy her power. Maybe it would be something minor like his ability to tell the history of an object by touching it...but maybe it would be something like his telekinesis. His black eyes bore into her blue, taking the brunt of her anger and sadness and...

He blinked once in surprise at the changing along her hand, then again as her skin became cold and hard like metal. His head cocked the other way at the actions, the spreading along her hands, and he was intrigued by her. By her hard skin and the way she made it like the glasses she held in her other hand. Was that her power? He suddenly wanted, more than anything else, to have that power. To be able to be as solid rock, strong as metal.

Grinning, he felt his smirk widen. Many things could metal be, but resistant to his powers it wasn't. His finger still hovered over her head, taunting. Waiting. But the brain would also be...tainted? Hmm. Sadly, he had to deal with that too. "Of course you're special. Special in that you can do things like that." He moved his finger, a bit experimentally, and her forehead began to cut.

Damn it! It seemed that Tabatha had miscalculated. Metal wasn't strong enough. she needed something that could not be cut at all. something that wasn't a solid. At least it seemed that her metal body was buying her time. He would not want to cut her open now because even her brain had taken on the properties of metal. She didn't understand why, but she could still think as a normal human no matter how she changed her body. she eyed the ceiling as best she could without moving. There were sprinklers for a fire alarm, but how was she to set them off? If only she could touch some water and then cut her as he might try, it would make no difference. she might even be able to escape whatever force he used to hold her down if it was meant to work only on solid objects. She had a toaster on a counter behind her desk where she had been toasting bread for breakfast. She was currently metal. Now if only she could get over there....

"Cutting my metal will do you no good if you want my brain. You will have to wait till I get my breakfast. You see, I can't shift back unless i consume some energy." she lied so artfully that even a master poker player could not compete. Buy my lie you stupid fool! She willed in her mind.

Sylar didn't complete the cut; her brain was metal. He could tell that continuing was a useless endeavor, as he didn't think he could read a metal brain. Metal rippled at the touch, but he didn't want to poke her metal brain. Who knew if she would even die in this state? He didn't know. He wanted her power so badly, so much that he could almost taste the hunger deep in his soul. To be able to feel her power and ability rippling over his own skin....that was the only thing that made him feel alive again. To feel a sense of power and control.

At her words, he laughed. It wasn't a warm, happy noise; it was scary and eery, almost like it shouldn't be a noise at all. The man with strong black eyes smirked down at her. Did he look stupid? Sylar had only staid alive this long because of his power and intelligence. His cutting stopped, but his hand didn't stop. Rather, he flicked his finger...and the toasted shot across from the toaster and hovered infront of her mouth. "I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone. How do I know you don't have more powers?"

Tabatha kept herself from frowning. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had seen through her lie. Well, he had brought her the toast. maybe he was less intelligent than she thought. Her elaborate plan to start a fire and set off the sprinklers seemed silly all of a sudden. No, a more direct approach would work with this man. "I only have one power," she said simply. It was true, unless you counted intelligence as a power. And she was sure Sylar didn't know the depth of her power. "Could I also have some water to wash this down?" she asked politely. "It's difficult to swallow dry toast by itself."

Sylar looked at her. This was a man who had killed his fair share of people just for their powers; he had stopped being a fool because that was what required to get somewhere. If you were a fool, you fell to the Sylars of the world, and he didn't feel like becoming a part of that again. Her eyes looked up at him. Oh, that sweet as honey questioning for water! He had met someone who could freeze water, someone who could blow up entire cities if you made him angry enough. Didn't this girl have any idea who she was dealing with? His smirk widened even more at the woman before him with toast hovering infront of her nose.

"I don't think that's a good idea either," he said. If her power was as strong as she said it was, she would probably find some way to shift into water. Which, though he could and often would hold down water if necessary, it required much more effort and he might not get all of her. Oh, how he wanted her power. So badly. He could feel the power right under his fingertips....so inviting....but alas. Would it be easier to try and figure out her power from her metal brain? So annoying...Sylar shook his head.

"Dry toast or nothing at all." Maybe he would come back another time, try to get her when she was at her home. But the power was just right there under his finger! Ugh.

Tabatha was growling in her mind. this man was too much! Part of her was awed, impressed and taken with his quick thinking and skills. She wouldn't be deluded by something stupid like that though. he may be good, but everyone had a weakness. She would find it. Even if that meant she had to stall all afternoon, not that difficult of a feat when she was metal. It would be a different story if she were water. keeping herself from splitting apart and staying together so she could return whole to her human form too effort.

"Perhaps a bit of jelly then?" she asked. "I keep some in the drawer below the toaster." Perhaps he would get bored if she resisted long enough.

His eyes never left her, but his mind had many things going on. She thought fast, and she didn't just fall apart at the first sign of trouble or danger. Not only that, she was still trying to get him to slip up and give her something so that she could shift into something that might get away. He didn't fancy trying to hold her down if she shifted again; he didn't believe that needing energy thing for a second. No way. No way did she just need some toast to shift back to human. And why would she, when he couldn't take her secrets right now.

Cocking his head the other way, he wondered over giving her the jelly. It would be a mistake, but it would be funny to think of her forming into a blob of grape jelly. Oops, he was going to laugh again. How many times was that since meeting Tabatha? Whatever. His dark eyes swept over her for a second, but he wouldn't give in to just that.

"Or," he said in response. "We could just both admit that you don't really need toast to shift back. What you're really looking for is a liquid escape. I'm wondering if you being metal would serve both of our purposes, dear Tabatha." He shifted his head the other way...and his finger was back to cutting into her. The toast was set on her desk.

Tabatha growled in her head. Sylar was quick to catch on. Much quicker than any other person she'd tried to fool. Normally people were as easy to manipulate as it was to change her form. This man though, she did have a bit of respect for. She couldn't look down on him like she did almost every other human. She considered telling him that, though she doubted flattery would stop him for more than a nanosecond. Still, a nanosecond was a nanosecond and it was better than nothing at all. She opened her mouth and was about to speak before he could cut her up, when some one knocked on the door.

Brogan knocked on his boss's door, a pile of papers in one hand. There was no response which bothered him. Tabatha was a relentless business woman. She did not close her door to the employees that constantly ran around the office building with papers, coffee refills, and other important matters. Not that it meant you were allowed to bother her whenever you felt like it. She wasn't the sort to help others with their problems. No, her door was open to others could always serve her. Thinking of the possible wrath the woman could imbue on him if he opened the door when he should, Brogan paused for a second more. Finally, his curiosity won over and he opened it, calling out.

"I have the papers you wanted--!"

The papers fell to the floor.