I was rather disapointed when we didn't see much of Sylar in Five Years Gone. Sure, I know he was posing as Nathan Petrelli, but I wanted to see this baddie out in the open... and what he was up to now. I came up with a series of fanfiction stories that could have shown Sylar's future, in the eyes of another victim. Yet, this victim, has no powers and is used for something quite more horrible. And without further ado, I present "The Victim."

Warning: Not for the faint of heart, if light gore is not your thing.



"Please," the woman in the dark room pleads. She leans her head against the wall, looking straight into the man's evil eyes.

"Not after your third miscarriage."

"That's why I need to go!" she cries back, trying to steady her voice as she feels the tears falling down her face.

The man thinks for a moment, "Fine. What do you need to do?"

"Um, I don't know; a mammogram? A regular doctor's appointment? Uh-"

"And what if you're ill? What will they think of your current condition?"

The woman taps her fingers on the floor, thinking, "I can tell them I just lost my chi-ld," her voice slows as she sees the man roll his eyes, "And, uh, that I'm depressed?"

"Fine. Go with that," the man replies, "But don't leave until I tell you so."

The man leaves, and the woman shudders. Slowly, she cranks her head straight up, and she scans the room. Even after several years of being here, it had always made her nervous. The woman always thought about her family, about her next rape, or what little child she bears that Sylar might kill next.

Without any choice, Sylar had picked her off the streets of New York after the bomb. And since them, she bore three children, two stillborns, and as of last week, three miscarriages. For the three children who were born, Sylar killed them instantly, to drain any power.

Not that there wasn't any power in them- but the woman never saw what they could do, or what Sylar could do, from stealing their abilities.

The woman knew Sylar before his evil days. She always thought that was why he chose her- he had gone to high school with her, and was literally in love with her. He was a "nerd" and she was popular. But when he asked her to the senior prom, the woman, being the type who cares about the little people, accepted, and had a great time. But back then; Sylar was Gabriel Gray, a real gentleman.

Muttering under her breath, the woman said, "Not a real gentleman now, eh?"

This is a good story. YAY Sylar. I'd love to see where it goes.

Thanks for reviewing. I figured since Sylar wanted to earn the powers that "others didn't deserve", he would get addicted, in which, he already is, and find different ways to get them.

No problem I think it's very well written.

Yay! More to the story! Oh, and if anything seems a bit too "obvious"- remember, this is from the view of a person who clearly wasn't in Season One.



“So, Miss…” the doctor begins, as he checks the clipboard.

“Gray,” the woman chokes out. Sadly, the doctor does not seem to notice the difficulty of a saying.

“Oh, yes, you are Missus Lydia Gray.”

The woman, Lydia, nods solemnly- although it isn’t her true surname- as the doctor ignores her again, “I understand you’ve recently miscarried your last child, and have surgically removed the embryo, correct?”

“Yes,” she said. But in her mind, it wasn’t surgery. Sylar had cut open her abdomen, then her womb, and removed the dead fetus. And after stitching it up with some thread- in which Lydia definitely thought wasn’t sanitary- he had left the room where she normally slept, and the rest was undiscovered by Lydia.

“Well, you’re healing rather nicely. I know this may be a difficult-“

“It’s fine, really,” she replies quickly.

“Well, if it really isn’t fine,” the doctor says, staring straight into her eyes, “There are some brochures for support groups in the waiting room.”

“Um, alright.”

“Nevertheless,” he says, “You’re perfectly fine otherwise, but underweight.”

“Oh.”

“Missus Gray,” the doctor says, clearing his throat, “That may be the reason why you miscarried. At the time, were you depressed in any way?”

Lydia did not know how to answer the question. Sure, she was depressed, but that was not the reason why she was underweight.

But to avoid a question-and-answer period, she simply said, “No.”

“Has,” the doctor began again, “Your husband not been able to support you?”

Cracking her hands, Lydia then lost her temper.

“Oh, God… just shut up!” Lydia shouted, “Just shut up and leave me alone!”

“Missus-“

“I am not married! Do not call me that!” and with that, she walked out of the office.

The doctor stood there stunned.


A car was parked out in the front of the office, which Lydia did not know where it was located. Inside, Sylar waited for her.

“What did they say?” he asked, as she stepped inside.

“They said I was miscarried because I was underweight,” she replied, looking down.

Sylar stared out the window for a few moments, then put the car in drive and pulled away.


“Gabriel, when are you going to rape me next?” Lydia said quietly, as the car was driven off the Long Island Expressway. Lydia had known that to avoid anyone from disrupting his plans, whatever they were, Sylar had found a small- and old- house to live in out on Long Island, frequently going into the city and around the country to find victims.

When he ignored her, she tried again, “Gabriel?”

Pulling over on a street next to the highway, Sylar yelled at her, “Don’t call me that, you bi- uh, Lydia!”

Looking straight at him, she could see that he had almost called her something a true criminal would call her, but even in the way he had treated her, Lydia never saw him as a complete criminal. Although he raped her, and barely fed her, and hurt her- she had seen him just look at her before, with no anger in his eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking out the window, “But I wanted to know. Could you wait for me to heal?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

And while he wasn’t watching, Lydia rolled her eyes.


Several weeks later, after an infection and a re-lacing, Sylar pulled the thread out of Lydia’s abdomen, hastily throwing the blood-dampened string into the garbage.

But instead of forcing her to spawn another soon-to-be murdered infant, he said, “We are going to Las Vegas.”

“What?”

“I have tracked down Peter Petrelli.”

“Who?”

As Lydia stared at him, looking befuddled; Sylar sucked his breath in, “Never mind. Start gathering… your stuff.”

Leaving the dark room, or rather, now just a regular room lighted, Lydia sighed as she crawled around, finding the small collection of clothing she had. Reaching underneath the old bed where she slept, she pulled out a pair of jeans.

Trying to shake out all the dust that gathered on it, she sighed again as she realized she would have to ask Sylar to wash them, or perhaps all her clothes as well.

As she sat Indian-style on the floor, the ball of clothes in her lap, she stared at the white wall across from her. Squinting, she thought of why Sylar wanted to go to Las Vegas- and who was this Petrelli guy?

Thinking, she instantly remembered. He’s the president’s brother!

Startled by her energetic thoughts, Lydia accidentally rolled onto her back, looking directly up to the light. As she closed her eyes, feeling the light come through her eyes, she thought one thing:

What would Sylar want with Nathan Petrelli’s brother?

Ooh a cliffhanger sorta. The second chapter is even better than the first. Keep up the good work.