I do not Own Sylar or any other Heroes characters/plots/etc..
Authors Notes: Hopefully this one takes off. :) I'm not the best at this whole writing thing.. I've only ever written one other story, and even that was never finished. I'm horrible with computers... etc.. so bare with me. xD I'll try my best.
This will end up Sylaire. The first chapter is my intro, and hopefully, (if all goes well), The next episode won't completely contradict this story. xD k. (wish me luck) ... here it goes.
6:15 AM
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A tall, dark haired, man, dressed mostly in black, exits room number 4 at Super Sam's Midnight Motel.
He is shortly followed by a groggy looking kid in his late teens.
Neither of them appear to be morning people.
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Scowls firmly plastered on their faces, they seem perfectly content in each other's silence.
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The taller of the two gets in the driver's seat and starts the engine. He rubs his eyes attempting to gain focus on what's ahead.
The sun isn't up quite yet, but it's peeking out beneath the night's heavy blankets, giving just enough light to take in the surroundings.
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Sylar waited patiently in the car as Luke dropped off their keys.
His head and heart, heavy in thought.
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He met his father the night before. The sight of the old man, had repulsed him.
He was wretched, he hadn't bathed in months, he was selfish......with the firm belief that he was better than everyone else. And… above all else, he was alone.
What little he had in life, he stole from others. What little he stole, no one was left to appreciate.
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Sylar couldn't help but make the connections. He was heading down the same path.
That would be him one day. That was the path he was following.
He knew he needed to change…
but how?
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What was he willing to sacrifice?
Was it too late? Was he going to live out the rest of eternity in solitude?
Who could ever love him? Who Could he ever love?
Was he capable of love?
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He blinked out of his reverie. It was getting brighter. The sun was painting the sky a Rusty Orange.
Luke placed his complimentary motel coffee on the roof of the car, opening the door to hand Sylar a cup of his own.
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Cream, no sugar. A little on the dark side . Just as he liked it.
The kid's cup, (undoubtedly filled with at least 4 packets of sweetener), was already half empty.
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T-Rex's Cosmic Dancer was playing on the radio at a low volume.
Sylar put the car in reverse.
He wasn't sure where they were headed, but he knew he needed to keep going.
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He needed to get off the path.
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