003. Video

[gabriel_gray]

[ A ragged, hollowed face appears on the screen, the eyes are pitch black in the low light, and thick shadows are cast across his face. There's hunger there, and a murderous rage reined right in until his voice sounds almost reasonable. Sylar does not blink, and he stares for several long moments, then tilts his head, and the shadows shift, and his eyes vanish, and all that is left are his lips, dry and cracked, and pulled back to reveal white teeth. The recitation is fluid, after all it has been repeated thousands of times. ]

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

[ His head tilts back to meet the brick stonework behind him, just far enough that the empty pits of his eyes are visible again. There is the briefest flash of silver at Sylar's throat--it's the collar confining his abilities, and without them, a wanted criminal, he is starving, gaunt, barely a slither of a shade rather than human. At least they'd fed him in jail, and resentment only makes him want his powers back more, to make the right people hurt for daring to take them from him in the first place. ]

You cannot know what creeping things might come in the night. Isn't that right, Peter? Don't forget to say your prayers.