I would like to apologize to all the folks, who have been supporting me. Life gets in the way of pleasure sometimes. I wanted to add this before it sat on my computer any longer. Thank You so much!
I own nothing of Heroes.

Sylar kept his head down as he walked through the streets of New York. The rain had started at 9:30pm and had become a heavy downpour. The baseball cap barely kept his head dry, but protected his eyes from the onslaught of water. It made the city smell like a sewer. Too many people in a small space can cause such a smell. It overwhelmed his nostrils. Even with the hideous smell, Sylar couldn't help, but have a giddy jump in his step. He had indulged himself only about an hour ago. His old habit came to him so naturally. Tracking down the Special he had sensed earlier was a bit more tricky than he thought it would be. But he always loved the chase.

The Special became aware of him when he followed the young man down a side street, a street that isn't normal used by walking traffic. This Special was smart and knew his surroundings too well. When he noticed Sylar stalking him, the young man took off running. Sylar felt like he was shaking off his hunting cobwebs chasing the man all the way into Chinatown. When Sylar finally got his telekinetic grip on him and slammed him into the wall, the boy began to plead. Sylar shivered at the thought of the boy's last words.

"Please, I'm not hurting anyone. Don't send me to a camp or give me the cure. I heard it can kill you. I promise, I don't bother anyone."

Sylar held him up against the wall and tilted his head.

"I'm not here to take you anywhere. I'm here to take whats yours."

Sylar felt a wave of pleasure come over him as he turned on to the street that Claire had told them to meet her on. Recalling the sound of the boy's skull opening brought back memories of his best moments. He didn't even know the boy's power, but he took it without hesitation.

He whistled softly as he came upon Peter huddled under an inlet of a building.

"Hey, Bro, Any sign of her?" Sylar tried to play off their fight earlier. Peter's words still could get under his skin.

Peter looked over him and scoffed in disgust. Peter knew Sylar's habits too well. One look and Peter could tell Sylar's misdeeds.

"So you caved? Your'e as bad as Bennet. Taking innocent lives for your own personal gain."

Sylar shrugged at the statement.

"But Who would you rather have on your side? Four Eyes or your only living relative?"

Peter became silent and shivered at the cold and wetness that was engulfing his clothes. Sylar's words still rang true.

Sylar glanced around for Claire, expecting her to drop in on them in, stealth style.

"So no sign of the Blonde Bond?"

Peter shook his head and pressed himself against the building, closing his eyes.

"Sylar, I don't know what we are getting ourselves in. Claire's intel is deeper and darker than our resistance movement. Who knows what she has been up to all these years? Why fight Hitler, if your'e just getting into to bed with Stalin?"

Sylar took the chance to lay into Peter.

"I don't mind going near a bed, when it comes to Claire."

Peter grunted.

"Do you really feel like a repeat of our discussion earlier?"

Sylar smirked.

"I am always ready for re-runs." He flashed a fireball in his hand, small enough for only Peter to see. The street was nearly deserted. Activity on the streets of New York had become limited due to the Wars, Genocide and Governmental control that had spread around the world. They were still located in a low class area and could blend easy into the suffering crowd.

Sylar glanced down the street and watched Claire approaching. She seemed unaffected by the rain, staring straight forward in their direction. Sylar nodded toward Claire and Peter pushed himself off the wall. Claire passed by them, quickly, not making eye contact. Sylar took this a silent message to follow at a distance. Claire took a harsh left, ducking into a back alley.

A muscular man stood in front of a dark doorway, with a red symbol painted on the door. It resembled the sign of Specials. Claire walked up to the muscular man, not a pinch of self-doubt. The muscular man stepped quickly aside at the sight of her, slamming his hand on the spray-painted door. The door swung open and Claire strode into a underground club, that was shaking from the sounds of heavy bass.

Sylar and Peter hustled to keep up with Claire, but the muscular man stepped in their path. Sylar, itching for a fight, instantly engulfed his own hand into a fireball. Sylar narrowed his eyes and smirked. The man returned a smirk as his skin instantly turned into a steel plate. He looked like a human robot, his skin able to flex along with his muscles. Claire appeared back from the booming club and put her hand on the bouncer's shoulder. The bouncer instantly dropped his shield, begrudgingly. He looked down at Claire, with respect, but also fear. The human steel plate feared Claire.

Sylar grunted at the bouncer as he brushed past him. He could practically feel Peter's judging eyes on his back. They followed Claire down a dark hallway, lighted by black lighted lights, coming closer and closer to the main part of the club. Just before the opening to the main dance area of the club, Claire slipped off her dark jacket, revealing a golden, sparkling top. It resembled what her hair use to shine like. She handed off her jacket to a tiny girl, who appeared out of no where. Claire barely looked in her direction. The music almost shifted as she stepped into a crowded club, that, amazingly, had high ceilings. The theme style was similar to a 1920's theme meets techno. "No Church in the Wild" played powerfully through the club. The crowd was a mixture of dark characters, all wearing dark apparel. Color was rare in this controlled world, so Claire stood out. Heads turned towards her as she passed through the crowd towards a long, bar. The bar was lit with red neon lights. The lights were shaped like the same symbol on the door. Sylar and Peter followed her, taking in the sights of crowd partying around them. Even in the hardest times, humans still found ways to party.

Sylar observed an expressionless Claire wait at the bar for the bartender's attention. A young, tipsy, punky looking girl bumped harshly into Claire. The girl, as most drunks do, whipped around to give Claire a nasty attitude. Claire, cooly and slowly, turned to make eye contact with her. The girl, who had even lifted a fist to attack Claire with, stopped dead in her tracks. Sylar and Peter watched from a distance as the girl, twice the size of Claire, apologized profusely and quickly made her way away from Claire. The girl even exited the club, with her friends in tow. Claire didn't bat an eye to see where the girl went and turned her attention to the bartender, who quickly was handing over an envelope to her.

Sylar felt a burning in the bottom of his stomach. Claire had power. A power he tasted once, when the world feared him. When she feared him. He was now just a simple baddie, on a long list of known evils. Claire seemed to rule more than he knew.

Claire, after taking the envelope, headed to the back of the club, turning into a stone hallway, where the restrooms were located. Sylar and Peter turned into the hallway, finding Claire staring at a stonewall. She looked over her shoulder at them.

"This is my club, but also my main base of operations."

The way that Claire stated that it was her club sent a shiver through Sylar.

At this, the wall in front of her shifted, leading to a stairway to a lower level. The lower level had much more advanced technology than the club. The stairs were made of steel and the next door required a hand imprint to unlock the door. The three of them headed silently down the stairs and through the door, with Claire's handprint allowing them access.

The door opened to an open room filled with advanced computers and monitors. Technology that Sylar and Peter had not seen since the war started. To the left of the room was a glass window, which looked into a interrogation room. There must have been a two-way mirror within the room. Mohinder sat in a chair, unconscious and bloody. Logan, who was standing in front of the glass window, turned slowly toward Claire as she approached him. He merely glanced up at Sylar and Peter, an unreadable look on his face. Claire and Logan shared a few whispers, before separating. Logan disappeared into a back door.

Claire finally turned towards Sylar and Peter.

"This is my form of resistance. I built an underground empire, I own a multitude clubs, drug exchanges, brothels, and even orphanages. I am gathering an army, human and specials alike. My father is no longer my goal, even though he is key to my plans. I wanted to give you both a formal offering to join."

Claire stared cooly at them, awaiting a response. Sylar was skeptical, and looked back at Peter. Who seemed willing to be apart of a stronger resistance and was mulling over combining his forces with Claire's in his mind. Sylar was slowly figuring out if there was more than what Claire was explaining.

"That's it, all this secrecy? Just to finally come to us now?"

Claire stared coldly at Sylar.


A shiver vibrated up Sylar's back. He felt himself charge at her, before he knew what he was truly doing. He slammed her against the window of the interrogation room, shouting as he did so.

"You are lying!"

Claire didn't blink an eye, nor did her heart skip a beat. Sylar missed the fear he use to be able to instill in her.

"What's wrong with you, Claire? Is your body back to feeling numb?" Sylar attempted to press his hand on her skin, but saw that it had no affect. She looked down at his hand on her bare arm. There was disappointment behind her eyes.

"I guess my feeling is truly gone, since not even you can give it back to me." Sylar let go of her and stalked away. Peter looking confused as always, shifted, crossing his arms.

"What's your real plan? Don't tip toe around me, or I'll destroy this place. Piece by piece."

Claire laughed at Sylar's threat.

"I can't get much past you. I should have just brought you, Peter. I can get things past you, but you just have to attach yourself to Sylar."

Peter looked angry for the moment, but relaxed his tense shoulders. Claire continued to speak.

"I do plan to formulate an army...to obtain a weapon. A weapon, that I plan to activate. Wipe out human life on this useless planet. Mohinder built it, I need the location. I need to strap Bennet to that weapon, and allow this planet to start over. Without the human race, special or not-special, this needs to end."

"An army, willingly to commit mass destruction and suicide? You clearly are not giving out all the details to your army."

"Would you? I am doing this for the greater good. My top leaders know the ultimate plan, I don't lie to them. So can you give me one good reason to keep the human race alive?"

"You are wiping out the earth's living creatures, to just get rid of humans?"

"This weapon...is special." Claire smirked at the phrasing. "It will wipe out only humans, giving the rest of the planet's inhabitants a chance."

Sylar looked over Claire's composure. She was so sure of her decision. Her willingness to die and take everyone with her was written in her eyes. He realized he needed to let her know, that he knew why she could no longer feel.

"I know that your plan didn't work, Claire. You tried to take the cure, to no longer be here. To rid yourself of this planet. It didn't work, but it sent your ability into hyperdrive. You can no longer feel anything, even heavy emotions. You are a walking robot, and now you are talking like one. Willing to commit the destruction of the human race, like you were programmed to do so."

Claire registered what Sylar had thrown at her. His words stung with truth. Peter looked even more baffled, trying to compute what had just transpired between the three of them.

Claire nodded her head and looked over at Sylar. He seemed staunch in his defense against her.

"You are 100% correct. I did try to take the cure, not long after Hiro was killed. My guilt overwhelmed me. A lot rested on me. Deaths and suffering have been caused just by the mere existence of me. Over the years, this emptiness grew. I can only now think in logical terms, no longer emotionally driven. This what years of living with this...black has brought me too. It's all black."

Claire looked at the two of them, seeing sympthay growing in their eyes. She just couldn't register what sympthay meant anymore.

"Are you with me?"